Toffee swung around menacingly. "Stand your ground, Bertha," she said. "You may wind up wearing those false teeth of yours as a necklace." She turned back to the judge and smiled. "Well, here we are," she greeted airily, "wild-eyed and bushy-tailed!"
The judge made an indignant choking sound. "Now, look here...!" he said.
"I am looking there," Toffee said. "And it's a great disappointment to me."
"Young lady!" the judge roared. "Do you want to be charged with contempt of court?"
"Maybe I'd better warn you, judge," Toffee said coolly. "Don't bully me; I may forget myself and pull a zipper. That would crab your act something awful. Besides, if you charged me for all the contempt I've got for this court there wouldn't be enough money to pay the bill."
"Well!" the judge snorted. "Of all the...!"
"You're turning purple, son," Toffee observed mildly. "It's not half becoming, either."
The court audience became tensely hushed as the judge reared back in his seat and opened his mouth. But the eruption failed to come.
Just at that moment the door at the far end of the room opened and Marc, accompanied by a guard, stepped into view. His progress to a position before the bench was not marked with any noticeable tendency toward levitation. Toffee, the judge, the court spectators regarded him with undisguised interest. Marc directed his gaze self-consciously toward his toes.