§ 236 Between the Cloves and the Hiccough
Before prohibition the bar in the Lambs’ Club—now given over to soft drinks, confectionery and vain regrets—was a famous place. I think more quick humor originated there than on any other spot of similar size on this hemisphere.
I remember one night when a distinguished comedian in a groggy condition was clinging to the rail. Only a few days before, he had announced that he was off the stuff forever. A fellow-actor entered.
“Why, Jack,” he said, “I thought you’d taken the pledge and now here you are with a bun on. How did you get it?”
The inebriated one raised his head, revealing a happy, dreamy smile.
“Drink by drink,” he murmured softly. “Drink by drink.”
But, to my way of thinking, the honors for repartee at the Lambs’ bar should go to Hap Ward, of the old team of Ward and Vokes. Hap, one day, was acting as host to a group of thirsty Lambs. A newcomer joined the party, bringing with him as a guest a gentleman of a serious aspect. When introductions had been completed, Hap addressed the stranger.
“What will you have, sir?”
The visitor drew himself up.
“I have never indulged in the habit of imbibing strong drink in my life,” he said.
“My friend,” said Ward, “I can teach you in three easy lessons.”