ask him about the button; why he was
wearing it now that Harding and Coolidge were in office? He would blush,
he could not tell them.

He hoped that they would not notice him for he knew he could not talk to
them, that his voice would shake and that he would go to pieces. Now
that he saw them, joyous, uproarious, bantering, wearing badges on their
sleeves, he realized that what _he_ had done was nothing at all. He
heard Scoutmaster Ned humorously belittling the exploits of his own
heroes. No, Peter Piper would not step rashly into that bantering throng
with that one exploit of his own.

So he stood in the bay window, half concealed by the old-fashioned
melodeon, and watched them. Just gazed at them....

And when they all crowded out he lingered behind and whispered to the
music-master of the milk cans, "Don't tell them, Ham; please don't tell
them anything--about me."

And so the party made their way along the dark road and Peter followed
and heard the flattering comments and fraternal plans involving the
little hero from Bridgeboro. Evidently they were going to keep Scout
Harris with them and have him patented, from what Peter overheard.

When they came to Peter's little home, Scoutmaster Ned discovered and
spoke to him while Pee-wee was making an enthusiastic pronouncement
about Jim Burton's Packard car.

"You live here, sonny?"

"Y--yes, sir," stammered Peter, quite taken aback.

"Well, now, I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to roll
this stalled car a little way into your yard to get it off the road. All
right?"

"Y--yes, sir."

"Then we're going on to where that little fellow lives. I have to see
his folks and he has to get some scout duds and junk and stuff and then
we're coming back. We ought to be here early in the morning."

"Y--yes, sir."

"You just keep your eye out for that car, will you? It has a way of
disappearing."

"Y--yes, sir."

"I don't mean to watch it all the time, but just sort of have an eye
out. I'm taking this little jigger out of the distributer, so no one
could run the old bus anyway. But you just have an eye out, will you?"

"Y--yes, sir," said Peter anxiously.

"That's the boy, and some fine day you'll have a couple of autos of your
own to worry about."

Peter smiled bashfully, happily. That was a wonderful joke. And a real
scoutmaster, just like the pictures, had said it to _him_. He thought
that, with the exception of Theodore Roosevelt, Scoutmaster N