Thus adjured, Alf plunged into his story, omitting only his adventure with the aeroplanes, which he considered would be safer hidden even from Bill.
That gentleman heard him to the end without comment.
"I b'lieve it's up to me to take yer to the M.O.," he said at last seriously.
Alf was annoyed.
"Don't be a idjit. This is a real spook, I tell yer!"
"Garn! You bin sleepin' on yer back an' dreamt it all. Why, this 'ere Aladdin you talk about—there never was no sich feller. 'E's just a bloke in a fairy story."
"Dreamt it!" repeated Alf indignantly. "Dream be blowed. I couldn't dream meself pink all over, could I?"
"No, but you could catch scarlet fever an' 'ave delirious trimmings on top of it," said Bill caustically. "But you can't make me see this blessed spook o' yours, any'ow."
This was a direct challenge, and Alf rubbed his Button. Bill's tin hat fell off.