"I say it's bitter," repeated Andrews sulkily. And lifted his voice
again. "_Malcolm!_ Where _are_ you?"
"You called me, sir?" said Malcolm, moving into the room. He nodded
politely to the others. "Good morning, Mrs. Andrews ... Miss
Andrews ... Mr. Breadon...."
"Oh, sit down!" snapped J. Foster. "Sit down here and stop bobbing your
head like a teetotum! Had your breakfast? The honey's no good; it's
bitter." He glared at his sister challengingly. "Where have you been,
anyway? What kind of secretary are you? Have you been up to the radio
turret? How's the market today? Is Galactic up or down?"