After my exhibition, I waited on the ice while being presented with a cut-glass bowl. Suddenly, an orange was flung out of the audience, landed on the ice, and skidded past my skates. What I had feared would happen, in light of the unrest, was apparently starting. It could only be a Czech form of the American raspberries. There was little that I could do, so I picked up the orange and threw it back into the crowd. But soon, another, and still another, orange fell on the ice, rolling helter-skelter over the slippery surface.
Before I threw these back, I looked at one more closely. It was neatly wrapped in cellophane, and printed on one side were the words "Good luck, Mr. Button."