Minutes afterward she flung a handful of sand at an innocent darning needle that was treading air directly in front of her.
"Oh, say something!" she cried.
"You'd censor it, Mlle. Secretary."
"I wouldn't!"
Pete lifted his eyes to the heavens and swore horribly.
"That's better," she said. "But you needn't do it any more. Now what are we going to do?"
"Wait for the commander-in-chief to get over his practical joke, I suppose."
"Then, this is your idea of a joke, is it?"
"Not mine; his," said Pete. "And it's not so bad, at that."