Jones. Why, I suppose you might say yes.
Jerry. Well, you tell him that the sailor had no instructions to do any such thing. Demand the sailor’s resignation.
Jones. And Major-General Pushing has been waiting to see you for some time. Shall I tell him to come out here?
Jerry. All right.
Jones goes into the White House and returns, announcing: “Major-General Pushing, U. S. A.”
Out marches General Pushing. He is accompanied at three paces by a fifer and drummer, who play a spirited march. When the General reaches the President’s table the trio halt, the fife and drum cease playing, and the General salutes.
The General is a small fat man with a fierce gray mustache. His chest and back are fairly obliterated with medals, and he is wearing one of those great shakos peculiar to drum-majors.
Jerry. Good morning, General Pushing. Did they keep you waiting?
General Pushing [fiercely]. That’s all right. We’ve been marking time—it’s good for some of the muscles.
Jerry. How’s the army?