"Wait a minute!" I butts in. "Since when have you been able to speak Eyetalian?"
"What?" he snorts. "Another one, eh? Ain't Miss Vincent been teachin' me English, French, Eyetalian and what to do with the oyster fork?"
"Is she?" I comes back. "That's all new to me. The last flash I got you was just takin' up how to enter a room!"
"Well, I'm past that," he explains, "and next week I begin on manners. Anyhow, I see this boob standin' there, and I says to myself, here's a chance to pull a little Eyetalian. So with that I stands in front of him and says, 'Bomb Germo, Senorita—a vostrican salute!'"
The Kid stops and bangs his fist down on the table.
"What d'ye think the big hick said?" he asks me.
I passed.
"He grins at me, waggles his shoulders and pipes, 'No spika da Engleesh!"
"'What d'ye mean English!' I says. 'That ain't English, that's Eyetalian, Stupid! Bomb Germo Senorita!'
"'No spika da Engleesh,' he pipes again.