"I don't get you at all," complained Jimmy, finally deciding that he
really should have left that last doughnut alone, there was beginning
to be a mighty uncomfortable sensation somewhere in the center of his
being. "Radio probably would be a fine thing for cripples but, gee,
we're not cripples--yet."
"Who said anything about us?" demanded Bob, disgruntled. "I never
said we were cripples, did I?"
"Well, spill the rest of it," groaned Jimmy as he shifted from one
side to the other in the hope of relieving the pain that gnawed at
his vitals. "What's the big idea?"
"I was wondering," said Bob, sitting up and growing excited as his
vague plan began to take shape, "if we couldn't get some of these
poor folks together and give 'em the time of their lives."
The boys stared at him and Herb shook his head sorrowfully.
"Gone plain loco," he explained to the other boys, with a significant
tap on his forehead. "They say life's pretty hard inside that asylum,
too."
"Loco, nothing!" cried Joe, beginning to understand Bob's idea and
growing excited in his turn. "You're the one that's loco, you poor
fish, only you haven't sense enough to know it. Where would we give
this entertainment, Bob? At your house?" he asked, turning to his
chum while Herb grinned at the suffering Jimmy.
"Now, they've both got it," he said dolefully.
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