"Oh, the deuce with his Majesty," said the old gentleman, testily. "What do you want to see him for? He's an old fossil."
"Granted," said I. "Still, I'm interested in old fossils."
The old gentleman roared with laughter at this apparently simple remark. I didn't see the fun of it myself, and his mirth irritated me.
"Excuse me, my dear sir," I said, trying to control my impatience. "But you don't seem to understand my position. I can't stay here and talk to you while the ruler of Olympus waits. Can't you see that?"
"No, I can't," he replied. "Can't see it at all, and I'm a pretty good seer as a general thing, too. If you didn't wish to see me, you had no business to come into my room. Now that you are here, I'm going to keep you for a little while. Take off that absurd-looking tile and sit down."
At this I grew angry. I wasn't responsible for the helmet I wore, and I had felt all along that I looked like an ass in it.
"I'll do nothing of the sort, you confounded old meddler," I cried. "I've come here on invitation, and, if I've got into the wrong room, it isn't my fault. That jackass of a Major Domo told me this was the place. Let me out."
I strode to the doorway, and the old gentleman turned to his desk and opened a drawer.
"Cigar or cigarette?" he said, calmly.
"Neither, you old fool," I retorted, turning the knob and tugging upon it. "I have no time for a smoke."