"That's what you think!" sneers the butter-in. "I was on the runnin' board of this boiler before it stopped. Run along, I'm busy. This here taxi's engaged!"
"Try and get it!" snaps Hazel, fit to be tied.
"Try and stop me!" grins this modern Chesterfield.
"If you were a gentleman," says Hazel, curling her cheery lip, "you wouldn't argue with a lady!"
"People which lives in gasoline tanks shouldn't throw matches," comes back our opponent coolly. "If you was a lady you wouldn't butt in where you wasn't invited!"
Meanwhile the taxi driver is a neutral but much interested audience. Covered from head to foot by the British equivalent of a slicker, the rain meant nothing in his young life! He was likewise nobody's fool. With great presence of mind he shoves the meter over to "Waiting Time" so that no matter who wins the argument he won't be the loser!
"You're nothing but a little English cur!" says Hazel calmly to the other occupant of the taxi.
He immediately busts out laughing. "Ha, ha!" he chortles. "The funny part is that I ain't English at all!"
It was our turn to grin.
"But you admit being a cur?" asks Hazel scornfully.
"I don't admit nothin'!" says the little fellow warily.
