"That is not the Deraaama," cried Gimp. "That's a pollution," his filmy eyes rolled and he jerked his head backwards in what was apparently the dramatic conception of indignation.
"Fancy that, an' me not knowin' it," was Bindle's comment.
"Haaa!" said Gimp.
"Won't you say one o' your pieces for us, sir?" enquired Bindle. "I'd like to 'ear real drama."
Gimp looked blankly at Bindle.
"J.B. means won't you recite," explained Dare in even tones.
Gimp was on his feet instantly, vowing that he was delighted. For a moment he was plunged in deep thought, his chin cupped in his left hand, the elbow supported by the palm of his right hand. It was extremely effective. Suddenly he gave utterance to the inevitable "Haaa!" and we knew that the gods had breathed inspiration upon him.
Straightening himself, he shot his hands still further through his already short coat sleeves, and gazed round. Raising his left hand he cried—
"Haaa! Shakespeare."
Then he broke out into