Lyttleton leaned over the table, preparing their monthly report.
As Zack eased himself through the doorway without pomp or parade, the Colonel looked up, "Zack, did you chuck those infernal buttons into the river?"
"Yas suh, yas suh." Lyttleton and McDonald glanced at Zack, smiling silently; each of them wore a Spottiswoode badge pinned to his dinner jacket. That's what made Zack grin. Both the Britishers snickered, and Colonel Spottiswoode flushed. "Haven't you fellows got tired of laughing?"
Lyttleton looked very serious. "That's McDonald laughing. He's not clever, you know—just a wild ass of a bachelor."
The Colonel laid down his book. "Gentlemen," he said. "I might as well get done with it and explain. Some misguided friends of mine were going to elect me Governor, in a whirl—and, they didn't. Had to call it off. I couldn't go around begging people for votes, and couldn't have been elected anyhow. My friends ordered about four tons of those fool buttons. I made Zack throw bushels of them into the Mississippi River. He says he mistook that last box for a box of number ten shells, and packed it in my chest Are you satisfied with the story? All gone, are they, Zack?"
