As Toffee gazed on this fine new catch, whole vistas of fresh achievement spread themselves before her. "Hail! Hail!" she said. "Deck the halls with poison ivy!"
The President, having had his little joke, had since fallen into a mood for a bit of tribute from what he considered his official flunkies—or straight men. As he waited for the Congress to rise in his honor—without result—an expression of petulance swept over his features. It wasn't as though they weren't aware of his presence; he made himself known surely. Then why didn't the clods snap into it?
He stepped imperiously to the head of the aisle, from whence there issued low sounds of displeasure and suddenly, with a start, found himself faced with a shattering view of a whole row of upturned bottoms.
"Here, now!" he exclaimed. "What sort of greeting is this? If you men have some personal criticism to make against me there must be a nicer way of expressing it!" He swung about to the Chair. "Just who is responsible for this insulting...!"
The words jammed together in his throat at the sight of the Chair whose sightless eyes peered down at him with every evidence of complete loathing. He seemed to snarl. In fact, as the President watched, the Chair actually did bare his fangs and snarl.
"Now, just a minute!" the President cried, taken aback. "Maybe we do have our little differences now and again, but there's no need to get obstreperous about it. Now stop slavering at the mouth in that extraordinary way and tell those old fools in the aisle to turn around right end up."
The Chair only snarled again.
"Oh, very well," the President said coolly. "If that's the attitude you want to take...."
"I don't think you're really going to get anywhere with him," Toffee put in mildly.