He tapped the music-stand sharply, raised his baton, and then went on talking.
“Here, you!” he cried. “Smithson, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you say?”
“Smithson, sir.”
“How dare you!” yelled the bandmaster, scarlet now with passion, for the men burst out laughing again. “Don’t you try to crack your miserable, contemptible jokes on me, sir!”
“That was no joke, sir,” said Dick.
“No, sir, it was not!” said the bandmaster, sharply. “You’ll find jokes dangerous things to crack here, sir!”
There was a murmur of acquiescence, and the little man smiled approval.
“Thought you were alluding to my name, sir,” said Dick, apologetically.