Two hours before, Frink had completed a newspaper lyric beginning: 

“I sat alone and groused and thunk, and scratched my head and sighed and wunk, and groaned, There still are boobs, alack, who’d like the old-time gin-mill back; that den that makes a sage a loon, the vile and smelly old saloon!  I’ll never miss their poison booze, whilst I the bubbling spring can use, that leaves my head at merry morn as clear as any babe new-born!”

Babbitt drank with the others; his moment’s depression was gone; he perceived that these were the best fellows in the world; he wanted to give them a thousand cocktails.  “Think you could stand another?” he cried.  The wives refused, with giggles, but the men, speaking in a wide, elaborate, enjoyable manner, gloated, “Well, sooner than have you get sore at me, Georgie—­”

“You got a little dividend coming,” said Babbitt to each of them, and each intoned, “Squeeze it, Georgie, squeeze it!”

When, beyond hope, the pitcher was empty, they stood and talked about prohibition.  The men leaned back on their heels, put their hands in their trousers-pockets, and proclaimed their views with the booming profundity of a prosperous male repeating a thoroughly hackneyed statement about a matter of which he knows nothing whatever.

“Now, I’ll tell you,” said Vergil Gunch; “way I figure it is this, and I can speak by the book, because I’ve talked to a lot of doctors and fellows that ought to know, and the way I see it is that it’s a good thing to get rid of the saloon, but they ought to let a fellow have beer and light wines.”

Howard Littlefield observed, “What isn’t generally realized is that it’s a dangerous prop’sition to invade the rights of personal liberty.  Now, take this for instance:  The King of—­Bavaria?  I think it was Bavaria—­yes, Bavaria, it was—­in 1862, March, 1862, he issued a proclamation against public grazing of live-stock.  The peasantry had stood for overtaxation without the slightest complaint, but when this proclamation came out, they rebelled.  Or it may have been Saxony.  But it just goes to show the dangers of invading the rights of personal liberty.”

“That’s it—­no one got a right to invade personal liberty,” said Orville Jones.

“Just the same, you don’t want to forget prohibition is a mighty good thing for the working-classes.  Keeps ’em from wasting their money and lowering their productiveness,” said Vergil Gunch.

“Yes, that’s so.  But the trouble is the manner of enforcement,” insisted Howard Littlefield.  “Congress didn’t understand the right system.  Now, if I’d been running the thing, I’d have arranged it so that the drinker himself was licensed, and then we could have taken care of the shiftless workman—­kept him from drinking—­and yet not ’ve interfered with the rights—­with the personal liberty—­of fellows like ourselves.”

They bobbed their heads, looked admiringly at one another, and stated, “That’s so, that would be the stunt.”