le of sandwiches the same as motorists carry extra
tires.

And while he ate he talked. "Gee whiz, I'm crazy to see that picture,"
he said.

"We usually go for the educational films," said Mrs. Bartlett.

"I don't like anything that's got education in it," Pee-wee said. "Even
when I go to vaudeville I don't like educated monkeys and cats and
things. I like bandits and things like that. What's your favorite
thing?"

"Well, I like scouts," said Mr. Bartlett.

"Mine's ice cream cones," said Pee-wee. "Is this a new car? I bet I know
what kind it is, it's a Hunkajunk. I like hot frankfurters too. I can
tell all the different kinds of cars because a scout is supposed to be
observant. Do you like gumdrops? I'm crazy about those."

"But where did you get that sweater?" Mrs. Bartlett asked.

"Do you want me to tell you about it? It belongs to the man that takes
care of our furnace; he's got a peach of a tattoo mark on his arm. My
mother told me I had to wear a sweater so I grabbed that as I went
through the back hall. I always go out through the kitchen, do you know
why?"

"I think I can guess," said Mr. Bartlett.

"And the cap?" Mrs. Bartlett asked.

"You know the burglar that came to our house?"

"No, I never met him," said Mrs. Bartlett.

"I bet you don't like burglars, hey? He left this cap. He didn't get
anything and I got the cap so that shows I'm always lucky. My mother
doesn't want me to wear it. Gee whiz, she hates burglars. Anyway, it's
good and comfortable. My father says if he comes back for it I have to
give it to him."

"Well, you certainly don't look like Walter Harris, the boy scout I have
always known," said Mrs. Bartlett.

"Don't you care," said Pee-wee. "If you're a scout you're a scout, no
matter if you don't wear anything."

"Oh, how dreadful," said Mrs. Bartlett.

"I know worse things than that," said Pee-wee.

"Well, tell us about the scouts," Mr. Bartlett encouraged him.

"Shall I tell you all about them?"

"Surely, begin at the beginning."

"That's law one, it's about honor; do you know what that is?"

"I've heard of it," said Mr. Bartlett.

"A scout has to be honorable, see? That comes first of all."

"Before eating?"

"Eating is all the way through it."

"Oh, I see."

"A scout has to be so--kind of--you know, so honorable that nobody could
suspect him, see? If you're a scout that means that everybody knows
you're all right. There are a lot of other laws too."

"Well,