PEPSY'S SECRET "Sally Knapp says we ought to have some barrels to put the money in," said Pepsy as they were decorating their little wayside booth on the day of the grand opening.

"I don't care what she says." She was feeling encouraged, and cheerful for indeed the little summer-house looked gay and attractive in its bunting drapery and flaunting pennants.

Failure could not lurk in such festal array, the tin dishpan full of greasy doughnuts, the homemade rolls and fresh sausages (which were better than any common wayside frankfurters) would certainly lure the hungry thither.

The world would seek these things out.

And were not the people of the grand carnival at Berryville to pass here that very day, followed, no doubt, by gay pleasure seekers?
To be sure there were no auto accessories yet, for there was no capital, but there was lemonade and candy and cider and homemade ice cream and there was Scout Harris wearing a kitchen apron ten times too big for him, tied with a wonderful, spreading bow in back, and a paper hat spotlessly white.
The advertising department had not reported but no doubt the woods were calling to the wayfarers in glaring red and black, or would as soon as the wayfarers put in an appearance.