“Oh, I don’t know. Anything short of breaking him somewhere. Joking aside, fellows, let’s mosey out and shoot up something. Let’s have some excitement. I’ve been as good and quiet as a little woolly lamb ever since I struck this outfit, and now I’ve just got to spread myself a bit. Leon, you think of something.”
“Yes, Leon, let that ardent southern nature of yours loose for a spell,” Jimmy seconded. “Unfurl—er—unleash your vivid imagination. We hang on your words.”
“We might break something,” answered Leon thoughtfully. “A couple of windows.”
“With rocks?” asked Monty doubtfully. “Oh, I know! With baseball bats! Great! Come on!”
“Call that sub-tile?” scoffed Jimmy. “You fellows have no more imagination than a—than a—a hen! You’re just naughty little boys with your breaking windows stuff. Think up something artistic, original.”
“I don’t hear you coming across with any big ideas,” said Monty, scornfully. “Say, what do you fellows do here when you want some fun?”
“Oh, we go up to the society rooms and play pool or chess,” replied Jimmy sweetly. “Or we gather about the piano downstairs and sing glees. Don’t you just love to sing glees? And rounds? Know that charming thing about the Three Blind Mice? Shall we go down and sing it?”
“You make me sick,” groaned Monty.
“I’m going home to do some studying,” said Leon with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. “What time is it?”