He had a dim and sneaking Recollection that he had given
his address and Phone Number to the whole Tribe and begged them to
look him up.
"Not any more in Mine," said he, as he held a Towel under the Faucet.
"Not for all of Morgan's would I look at any more of that Essence of
Trouble. I wonder if I'll live through the Morning."
That Day he lived on Bromo and Ice, and the only Satisfaction this
Life offered was the Fact that he was a Reformed Man.
On the Second Day he could look at Solid Food without having a Spasm.
His Hair stopped pulling and he began to speak to the People he met.
When asked to step out for a little while, he lost his Temper and
made a little Talk on the Subject, proving conclusively that there was
Nothing in it.
[Illustration: _Never Again!_]
As he walked homeward in the Dusk he passed the Clubs and Cafes where
those who Drank were rounding up and he felt sorry for them.
"Why can't they pass it up, the same as I do?" he asked himself. "Ah,
if only they knew how much more Fun it is to be Respectable."
It was an actual Mystery to him that any one could dally with a Dry
Martini while there was a Hydrant on every Corner.
On the third Day he was cracking his Whip and begging People to get
up on the Wagon with him. And he said it was a Queer Thing, but he
couldn't bear the Sight of it.
While on the fourth Evening he confessed to some nice People he met at
a Church Social that at one time he had allowed himself to be coaxed
into taking an occasional Nip but he reasoned it all out and decided
it was a Bad Thing and simply Chopped it right off.
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