“That be h-hanged for a tale. Wha-what’s to prevent him saying he’s done it, whether he has or not?”
The Strollers looked uncomfortable. However, it was Jimmy’s affair.
“Why, you’d get your dinner in any case,” said Jimmy. “A dinner from any host would smell as sweet.”
Willett persisted with muddled obstinacy.
“Thash—thash not point. It’s principle of thin. Have thish thing square and ’bove-board, I say. Thash what I say.”
“And very creditable to you being able to say it,” said Jimmy cordially. “See if you can manage ‘Truly rural.’”
“What I say is this. Jimmy’s a fakir. And what I say is, what’s prevent him saying he’s done it when hasn’t done it?”
“That’ll be all right,” said Jimmy. “I’m going to bury a brass tube with the Stars and Stripes in it under the carpet.”
“Thash quite shfactory,” said Willett, with dignity.
“Or, a better idea,” said Jimmy, “I’ll carve a big J on the inside of the front door. Well, I’m off home. Anybody coming my way?”