Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1935-03-03

Mrs. Benner. OF course MIR. Badger
is not to 60. MIR. McGash and were
comforting about that, just as you
came in
The reformers marched beamingly
out, in time to meet Bat Badger on
the steps.
You bad man. you get right out
of town! And you're not going to
Europe with us! rejoiced Mrs.
Benner.
Three jackasses, all in a row.
'Tain't true. Jus mother mirage!
Visyums like this hard on pore lone
prospector! said Mr.. Badger.
He entered the office. after some
difficulty in finding on which side of
the door post the door was. Cordwood
hailed him with dubious heartiness.
well. well, if it amt old Bat!
Well, well - well"'
Mr.. Badger fumblingly sank into
chair. He said not word. He merely
shook his wicked old head - his
greasy cap and sunset nose and brush
wood-scattered chin - shook it slowly
and rebukingly. and wagged know
ing but smeary forefnger.
Come up to the house and have a
drink. old fella!' said Cordwood,
hollowly.
MIR. Badger went on shaking his
head and his forefinger in saddened
disillusion. looking at this viper he
had now thrust forth from his bosom.
"How's your daughter and your
son-in-law? Folks all fine?" croaked
Cordwood.
Then MIR. Badger gloomily gave
voice: "Phar
who's Pharisee?"
who's Phar' see? You're Phar' seew
ME? A Pharisee!'
"Yes. you! Whaz Good Book say?
Proggie Son comes home. Whaz he
get? Gets fatted leg of lamb. I'm
Proggie Son. What do | get? Get
Maybelle Benner! Phar'see Quit
drinking. that's what you done.
Snooty to old friend Bat. Pore old
Bat Badger!
And Mr.. Badger shook his palsied
head again. gently weeping.
mo. no. Bat! That's dog gone lie.
I'm just as good a drinker as ever
was. Come on up home. I'll prove it.
I'm no Pharisee. I'm good drinking
man."
He got Bat into the back of the
limousine. where Bat lighted the butt
of a cigar and looked loftily out at
the canaille. winking at the girls.
while Cordwood meekly drove in
front. At the mansion. Bat suddenly
exhibited the most offensive trick in
all his amiably contrary career. He
wouldn't, no. no matter how much his
host begged him. he wouldn't take a
single drink Of CordwoOd's excellent
whisky. This was as unexpected as
Hitler's refusing an Imperial crown.
and the not unresOurceful Cordwood
was helpless. In the style of small
boy running to his mother with hurt
finger. Cordwood thought of telephon-
ing for Percy. for good old Colonel
Blight. But he felt too helpless, under
the spell of Bat. who was slumped in
leather armchair accusingly shaking
his head and muttering. "Phar'see!
Never drink Phar' sees ticker. Not if I
starve!'
Look. old man! I'll show you how
much of a Pharisee l am! Lookit. the
way l drink" Cordwood poured out
half a tumblerful of rye and tossed it
off. ''See? Now come on! Drink up!
And / got swell new story for you.
Mrs. Benner? Why. she hates me like
rat poison. Come on now. drink up!'
''Phar'see
''Oh. come on! -uh Il been
too busy lately to do much drinking.
but with an old buddy. like you
Look, I'm taking anotherv'
So it was that Percy returned, with
Colonel Blight, to find Cordwood
completely passed out, while Bat still
sat soberIy croaking at the near
corpse, "Phar'see! Benners! All Phar'
sees!'
Percy and the colonel gently led
Bat outside. Expertly frisking him.
the colonel found that Bat had not
carried his prejudice against the false
wine cups of the Pharisee too far. He