Tom winked at Brent. “You like chocolate?” Brent asked.
“Sure, I can eat anything.”
“It’s great for making smutches,” said Brent. “Now, tell us all about your life and death and Christian sufferings.”
“Gee, I didn’t die yet; not so you’d notice it.”
“So they’re a fresh bunch up there at the lakes?” Tom encouraged.
“Sure,” said Arnold Henshaw, alias Spiff.
“They says I got to take lessons from those guys. To get merit badges I don’t have to take lessons. Anyway, they get merit badges and they can’t do as many things as I can. I swam across the lake one night and they wouldn’t give me a merit badge. They can chuck it in the lake for all I care.”
“So?” Tom was sitting with hands clasped around his upraised knee, listening intently. He seemed inwardly amused.
“They got the knife in me, that crowd,” said Spiff.
“You’re not understood,” Brent commented in an undertone.