Brent said, “Well, I can’t help it; that’s the way I feel. I envy that convict. I long to languish in a dungeon cell and file away the bars in the dead of night and kill three keepers and escape in an airplane. That’s living.”
“Good night,” I said, “not for the three keepers.”
Harry said, “Well, all things come round to him that waits. My ambition is to be wrecked at sea. How about you, Roy?”
I said, “My ambition is to foil old Major Grumpy and make him fall for the scouts.”
“No pep to it,” Brent said; “a dark and dismal dungeon with rats poking around on the stone floor, that’s my speed.”
Cracky, that fellow’s awful funny.
“You’d never get any dessert,” Pee-wee shouted.
Brent said, “Who wants dessert when he can get a crust of bread and a mug of water?”
“I do,” the kid shouted. “I want two helpings.”
That was his ambition.