“Yes, Bowser.”
From the theater of war, where Mr. Bowser battled with himself, came a news bulletin which leaped from mouth to mouth:
“J. S. B. is going into the Quiet Room.”
“The Chief is going into the Quiet Room.”
“Mr. Bowser is going into the Quiet Room.”
They saw him, hands clasped behind him, chin resting on necktie, eyes oblivious to things mundane, stride down the corridor and into the Quiet Room. As noiselessly as if it were the cobweb door to ghostland the gray door purred shut behind him. From basement to roof in the vast Bowser Building breaths were held.
In the Quiet Room Mr. Bowser set up on racks four cards, in groups of two. The first card bore the words:
SMELLY-WELLY
Dirt-devourer
The second card had inscribed on it: