“Sure thing. What’s the word?”
“Hit—hit’s grins,” fluttered Bradley. “Hif you doubt hit, you’ll find there is a mile between the first and last letters. Hi can thrash hanybody who doesn’t see the point!”
Then, as nobody laughed, he began to tear off his coat, truly fighting mad.
“You hare a lot hof blawsted thick-’eaded Yankees!” he raged. “Hover hin hold Hengland——”
“Dear! dear!” said Smart. “Don’t disgrace yourself, Sir William, by thrashing such dummies. It really takes the English to see the point of a joke. Now, when I get a good thing I always take it to you, for I know you will be so quick to catch on!”
This appeased Bradley somewhat, but he returned:
“Hi don’t believe they want to see hit! They never want to see hanything when Hi tell hit.”
“It’s very shameful,” said Ted, winking at the others behind Billy’s back. “Any one should be able to see in a minute that there is a mile between the first and last letters of smiles.”
Then, for the first time, the boys on which Billy had tried to spring the joke saw the point in it. Immediately they began to laugh, which disgusted the Cockney lad more than ever.
“Look hat that!” he cried. “When Hi say hit nobody laughs; when you say hit they hall catch hon him a minute. Hit’s a put hup job!”