“Not hash, but ashes,” returned Bobby, joining in the laugh of the rest of the boys. “You know, ashes—what falls out of the stove, wood ashes, coal ashes.”
Joe’s face resembled that of a graven image.
“No unnerstan,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with an air of perplexity.
In the face of his determination, the boys saw that it was of no use to prolong the conversation.
“You’re a good actor, Joe,” said Bobby, half vexed, half amused, as the boys turned to go.
Joe showed his teeth again in an engaging smile that embraced all the party and waved them a cordial good-bye.
“How sweetly the old rascal smiles at us!” grinned Mouser.
“Laughs at us, you mean,” snorted Fred. “He’s tickled to death inside to think of the way he’s got the best of us.”
“I bet if we asked him if he’d like to have us give him five dollars, he’d understand, all right,” laughed Sparrow.
“He couldn’t grab the money too quick,” agreed Skeets.