Fish. Nothing. I’m going to be happy, anyways [he looks at his watch]—for almost an hour.
They go out through the garden gate.
And now President Jerry Frost himself is seen to leave his window and in a minute he emerges from the Executive Mansion. He wears a loose-fitting white flannel frock coat, and a tall white stovepipe hat. His heavy gold watch-chain would anchor a small yacht, and he carries a white stick, ringed with a gold band.
After rubbing his back sensuously against a porch pillar, he walks with caution across the lawn and his hand is on the gate-latch when he is hailed from the porch by Mr. Jones.
Jones. Mr. President, where are you going?
Jerry [uneasily]. I thought I’d go down and get a cigar.
Jones [cynically]. It doesn’t look well for you to play dice for cigars, sir.
Jerry sits down wearily and puts his hat on the table.
Jones. I’m sorry to say there’s trouble in the air, Mr. President. It’s what we might refer to as the Idaho matter.
Jerry. The Idaho matter?