I looked about, trying to decide whether the auditorium held 1300 people or 1500 people. There is a big difference–at least, to this professor there is.
Whatever the number, though, this professor was fairly certain that the place would be filled to the brim in another five minutes or so.
Gen. T. Brishwasher was to speak today, and the professor was slightly interested. I was more interested in the spectacle of the people, I suppose.
I was still looking about when I was tapped upon the shoulder.
The professor spun around.
Standing behind me was one of Mr. Ratherquite’s Ladies–the red-haired one.
“Sir,” she squeaked, “why are you turning your head about like a loon?”
“A loon?” I must say, her statement depressed the professor a bit. A loon isn’t a favorable comparison.
She nodded and giggled.
I decided to ignore the comment. “I’m trying to decide how many people this auditorium holds.”
“1400?” I asked. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because my Mr. Ratherquite told me.”
I might have been a bit flustered at this point. You see, I was quite positive that the number was either 1300 or 1500. 1400 just didn’t fit into the equation.
“Now, sir,” the red-haired lady continued. “Kindly point me in the direction of my Mr. Ratherquite.”
“How am I supposed to know where he is?”
Her eyes opened very widely in disbelief. “How couldn’t you know where someone as important as Mr. Ratherquite is?”
“How couldn’t you?”
She grew red in the face. “You’re rude and crude–”
“I know the routine. You might as well save it. If I was you, I’d look for Mr. Ratherquite in the facilities.”
And then I turned away.