"
But a roar of protest from the other boys drowned his voice.
"Gag him, some one, can't you?" Joe's voice was heard above the
uproar. "The last joke he tried to work off on us was so old it
had false teeth."
"Gee," cried Herb, finally released and disgruntled. "It's plain
to be seen real humor is wasted on this gang."
The boys let it go at that and eagerly plunged into a discussion
of the proposed concert.
"Who do we know that we can invite?" Joe asked practically. "The only
'shut in' I know is poor old Joel Banks. He's a fine old boy--went
all through the Civil War with colors flying. He's awfully old now,
and so crippled with rheumatism he can't leave the house."
"Fine!" crowed Herb irrepressibly. "Here's the first of our lame
lucks."
"Joel Banks isn't any lame duck! I'll have you know that right now,"
cried Joe hotly. "He's one of the finest old gentlemen you ever want
to see, and a hero at that. My dad says he would take his hat off
to him any day in the week."
"All right, all right," said Herb quickly. "Don't go off the handle.
I didn't know you were so strong for the old boy. Who's next on the
list?" he asked, turning to Bob.
"Why," said Bob uncertainly, "I know quite a few poor kids who were
crippled in that infantile paralysis epidemic--"
"Sure, so do I," broke in Jimmy, interested.
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