sh I could offer you a drink," said Bleak, "but as you know, it
would be unconstitutional. With your permission, I shall have to have
something. My office hours begin shortly, and some one might come in."

He took up his station at the little bar behind the velvet cord, and
slid his left foot onto the miniature rail. Jerry, with the air of an
artist about to resume work on his favorite masterpiece, stood
expectant.

"A little Scotch, Jerry," said Bleak.

In the manner reminiscent of an elder day Jerry wiped away imaginary
moisture from the mahogany with a deft circular movement of a white
cloth. Turning to the gleaming pyramid of glassware, he set out the
decanter of whiskey, a small empty glass, and a twin glass two-thirds
full of water. His motions were elaborately careless and automatic, but
he was plainly bursting with joy to be undergoing such expert and
affectionate scrutiny.

Bleak poured out three fingers of whiskey, and held up the baby tumbler.

"Here's to the happy couple!" he cried, and drank it in one swift,
practiced gesture. He then swallowed about a tablespoonful of the
water. Jerry removed the utensils, again wiped the immaculate bar, and
rang the cashless cash-register. The Perpetual Souse smiled happily.

"That's how it's done," he said. "Do you remember?"

"We're just back from South America," said Quimbleton.

"Some of the boys from the old Balloon office were in here the other
day," said Bleak. "I'm afraid it was rather too much for them--in an
emotional way, I mean. I tossed off a few for their benefit, and one of
them--the cartoonist he used to be, perhaps you remember him--fainted
with excitement."

"Well, how do you like the job?" said Quimbleton.

Bleak did not answer this directly. Making an apology to Jerry and
promising to be back in a few minutes, he escorted his visitors round
the temple and gave them some of the picture postcards of himself that
were sold to souvenir hunters at five cents each. He showed them the
cafeteria for the convenience of visitors, the Hostess House (where
they found Mrs. Bleak comfortably installed), the ice-making machinery,
the private brewery, and the motor-truck used to transport supplies. In
a corner of the garden they found the children playing.

"It's a good thing the children enjoy playing with empty bottles," said
Bleak. "It's getting to be quite a problem to know what to do with
them. I'm using some of them to make a path across the lawn, bu