And immediately Smart fell off his chair with a thud.
“Don’t feel so bad over it, my little man,” said Buckhart, as he patted Ted on the head. “You’re a bright little fellow. You’re a wonderfully witty little chap.”
“Say, Texas,” chirped Ted, looking up, “bet you can’t tell what makes every one sick save the one who swallows it.”
“I am not good at guessing,” said Brad. “What is it?”
“Flattery,” answered Smart, and cheered up at once.
Catching Billy’s eye, Ted winked at him and nodded. Billy fancied he saw his opportunity.
“Hi have a beautiful conundrum, don’t y’ ’now,” he declared, and immediately received the attention of every one. “What’s the ’ardest kind hof soap?”
When all professed their inability to answer this conundrum and demanded the answer from him, the Cockney youth threw out his chest.
“Why,” he said, “that’s heasy. The ’ardest kind hof soap his cast-hiron soap, hof course.”
Having told this, he fetched his knee a resounding crack and then clung to his sides, as he doubled up with laughter. When he straightened up and looked around he was astonished to see a lot of blank faces, for no one save himself was laughing. Ted Smart had crammed his handkerchief into his mouth to keep from shouting.