"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. "How about little Dick
Winters and his sister?"
"Fine!" cried Bob. "And I know a couple more I could pick up. Now let's see! That makes—Gee, how many is it?"
"About five;" Joe figured for him. "That's enough, isn't it."
"Y-yes," said Bob doubtfully. "Only your friend, the old war veteran, might not like to be squeezed in with a lot of kids, that way."
"I can fix that easily," said Jimmy, importantly. "What's the matter with asking Aunty Bixby?"
"Who's she?" asked Bob, with interest.