"Shut-ins," he repeated impatiently. "People who can't get out and have fun like us fellows."
"Oh, you mean cripples like Joel Banks," said Herb with relief.
"Gee, did you just find that out?" murmured Jimmy, turning over on his stomach and wondering if he really ought to have eaten that last doughnut. "Some folks are awful stupid."
Herb showed a strong desire to avenge this insult, but Joe quelled the threatened riot.
"Cut out the rough stuff, can't you, fellows?" he asked disgustedly.
"Give Bob a chance."
"Well," Bob continued during the temporary quiet that ensued, "I was just thinking what a mighty fine thing it would be for these poor folks who never have any fun if they could have a radio attachment in their own houses so that no matter how crippled they were, they could listen to a concert or the news, or any old thing they wanted to, without going outside their houses."
"It sure would be fine," said Joe, a little puzzled as to what Bob was driving at but loyally certain that, whatever the idea, his chum was sure to be in the right.
"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?"