To this
enchanted isle would stroll dance-weary couples and famishing scouts to
regale themselves in this dim, detached, earthly paradise.
"Wait a minute, oh, just wait a minute!" cried Minerva in the spell of
such an inspiration as comes only once in a lifetime. "Oh, just wait
_one minute_."
She hurried across the lawn, returning presently with a huge, spotless
apron with strings of goodly dimension which, in a very glow of
inspired joy, she tied around the waist of Pee-wee Harris. It was
necessary to shorten it by a series of pokes and pushes by which it was
tucked up under its own strings and lifted clear of the adventurous
feet of the scout. Nor was that all, for somewhere out of the
mysterious depths of the house, Minerva had brought a starched and
snowy chef's cap with which she crowned our hero.
"You be right here when they begin coming down," Minerva said, "and
stand close to the traffic sign and if any boy stays here too long turn
the STOP sign on him."
"And turn it on yourself if necessary," said Townsend.
"I won't let anybody eat more than about--about--five helpings.
That'll be enough for them, hey?" said Pee-wee.
"Goodness gracious, yes," said Dora Dane Daring.
"You're the steward, remember," said Minerva. "Do you know what a
steward is?"
"He's--he's named after a stew," said Pee-wee, hitching up his
spreading apron. "You leave the people to me, I'll handle them."
CHAPTER XX
GONE
The steward (or the stew, as Townsend thenceforth called him) did not
attend the party.
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