At first his hearers did not grasp the full force of the misapplication of the parable. Mr. Price could not refrain from laughing. The others joined with him when the humor of the reply dawned upon them. Pointing scornfully at the fat Sheriff, they shouted gleefully, while Slim blushed through his tan.
"Now, if you'll kindly show me where—" began Mr. Price.
"Sure. All the liquor's in the kitchen—" said Sage-brush, expanding with hospitality.
Slim pushed Sage-brush back into his chair, and Parenthesis tapped the minister on the shoulder to distract his attention.
"Thanks. I meant to ask for a place to change clothes."
"Sure you mustn't mind Sage-brush there," apologized Parenthesis; "he's allus makin' breaks. Let me tote your war-bag. Walk this way."
"Good day, gentlemen," smiled Mr. Price. "When you are up my way, I trust you will honor my church with your presence—" adding, after a pause—"without waiting to lose an election bet."
The entrance of a Greaser to refill glasses diverted the attention of the guests until the most important function for them was performed. With "hows" and "here's to the bride," they drank the toast. Slim, as majordomo of the feast, felt it incumbent upon himself to keep the others in order. Turning angrily upon Sage-brush, he said. "Why did you tell the Sky Pilot where the liquor was?"
"I was just tryin' to do the right thing," answered Sage-brush defiantly.
"Embarrassin' us all like that. You ought to know that parsons don't hit up the gasoline—in public," scolded Slim.