“Is that it?” cried Gamp, who was astonishingly green for a Yale man. “Well, dud-dud-darned if that ain’t fuf-fuf-fuf-funny! A-haw! a-haw! a-haw!”
He had a laugh that was like the braying of a mule, and a passing pedestrian dodged so suddenly that he jumped from under his hat, while an old lady with an umbrella turned and cried:
“Shoo! Git away! Don’t you bite me!”
She waved her umbrella in Gamp’s direction and peered fearfully over her spectacles, as if she fully expected to see some fierce wild beast rushing upon her.
That caused all the other boys to laugh again, while Joe paused, with his huge mouth wide open, and stared in surprise at the excited and trembling old lady.
“Hey?” he cried.
“Mercy!” gasped the old lady. “I thought so. I thought it was a horse whickerin’ for hay.”
Then she hurried on, while the boys, with the exception of Gamp, were convulsed with merriment.
Joe stared after the old lady’s retreating form, gasping for breath.
“First tut-tut-tut-time I ever was took for a hoss!” he exclaimed.