CHAPTER XI
IT'S A LONG WORM THAT HAS NO TURNING
Bishop Chuff sat sourly in his office and sighed for more worlds tocanker. Round the room stood the tall filing cases containing cardindexes of prohibited offences, and he looked gloomily over the crowdeddrawers in the vain hope of finding something that had been overlooked.He pulled out a drawer at random--Schedule K-36, Minor SocialOffenses--and ran his embittered eye over a card. It was markedConversational Felonies, and began thus:
Arguing Blandishing Buffoonery Contradicting Demurring Ejaculating Exaggerating Facetiousness Giggling Hemming and Hawing Implying Insisting Jesting
Each item also referred to another card on which the penalty was notedand legal test cases summarized.
"No," he brooded, "there is nothing left."
Even the most loyal of the Bishop's Staff admitted that he was far fromwell, and it was decided that he ought to take a vacation. He himselfconcurred in this, and as the home resorts were no longer places ofmirth and glee, he determined to go to Europe. This would have theadded advantage of enabling him to spend some time conferring withprohibition leaders abroad as to ways and means of converting Europe tohis schemes of reform. Everyone in the office showed genuineunselfishness in making plans for the Bishop's vacation, and he wasurged to stay away as long as he felt he could be spared. Europe, too,was much excited over the prospect of his coming, and the British primeminister was questioned on the subject in the House of Commons. For hisentertainment on the voyage a set of twelve beautiful folio volumes,bound in black morocco, were prepared. They contained a digest ofprohibition legislation which Chuff had been instrumental in having puton the statutes. For the first time in years the Bishop was cheered ashe passed about the streets, and he realized that he had never knownhow popular he was until it was announced that he was going away.
But still he was not content. One morning, not long before the date setfor his sailing, he sat gloomily at his desk. He was engaged in makinghis will, and had found to his secret bitterness that after bequeathinga few personal trinkets to the office staff there was really no one towhom he could leave the bulk of his misfortune. Theodolinda, of course,he had quite cut off from his estate. He only knew that she was livingsomewhere with the degraded Quimbleton, carrying on a little psychictavern which no laws could reach, in a state of criminal happiness.
From the street, far beneath his open window, he heard the clamor of apolice patrol and leaned eagerly over the sill in the hope of seeingsomething that would cheer his black mood. But it was only a man beingarrested for leaning against a lamp-post--a rather common offence atthat time, for most of the normal occupations of the citizens had beenprohibited, and they mooned about the highways in a state of listlessdiscontent. But then, farther down the channel of the street, he sawsomething that caught his eye. A group of people were marching withflags and signs toward the railway station. SATURDAY SCHOOL PICNIC TOSOUSE TEMPLE, he read on a banner. He noticed that in spite of all thelaws against smiling in public, these people bore a look of suppressedmerriment. They were obviously out for a good time. A sudden thoughtstruck him.
That afternoon, in impenetrable disguise, the Bishop paid his firstvisit to the Temple of Dunraven Bleak.
The next morning, when his subordinates came to see him about the finalplans for his departure, they were horrified to find him sitting at hisdesk wearing in the recesses of his beard what would have been called(on any other man) a smile.
"I have changed my mind," he said. "I am not going away."
They cried out in amazement, and pointed out to him how sorely in needof relaxation he was.
"I am planning relaxation," he said, and that was all they could getout of him.
Later in the day a confidential messenger was dispatched to the privateprinting press of the Chuff Organization, bearing the text of a posterwhich was found broadcast over the whole country a few days later. Itran thus:
AT THE NEXT ELECTION
For Perpetual Souse
VOTE FOR CHUFF
The People's Friend
THE END
In the Sweet Dry and Dry Page 11