Further, Bud declined to have it in for the Boss simply because he was the Boss. And at every session of the Rappers’ League he was as open about it as a woman with a secret.
All these things Burra Boss quietly eyed-in from time to time, as Bosses have the lowdown habit of doing.
And so one bright Spring Morning about eleven minutes past ten he called Bud into the Throne Room.
“Young man,” quoth he, “you have been for several years sitting in with a bunch of office beadles without becoming one of them.
“It is no simple cinch for a young man to hold himself aloof from the piffle and puff of Office Politics and to evolve ideas in an intellectual graveyard. I take this occasion to congratulate you, my boy.”
“Thank you sir,” quoth Bud, wondering if he was in for something more negotiable than a congratulation.
“And furthermore,” quoth on the Boss, “I have decided to promote you to the sales-managership of this hustling hive at twice the salary we have been smothering you with heretofore.”
Bud attempted to quoth back, but there wasn’t a quoth left in his quothary.
Too full for coherent utterance, he merely made various motions indicating large appreciation, such as bowing, tapping his shirt bosom, winding his watch, and so on.