been so impudent as to adopt the tactics of your Early Christian Martyrs! Even if we were invited to your Corporate feast — which, I understand, we most warmly are not!— I am afraid we should not be able to attend. You see, we believe in only one Dictator, God, and I am afraid we cannot see Mr. Windrip as a rival to Jehovah!”
“Aah, that’s all baloney!” murmured one of the learned gunmen, and Macgoblin shouted, “Oh, can the two-dollar words! There’s just one thing where we agree with the dirty, Kike-loving Communists — that’s in chucking the whole bunch of divinities, Jehovah and all the rest of ’em, that’ve been on relief so long!”
The Rabbi was unable even to answer, but little Dr. Schmidt (he had a doughnut mustache, a beer belly, and black button boots with soles half-an-inch thick) said, “Macgoblin, I suppose I may talk frank wit’ an old student, there not being any reporters or loutspeakers arount. Do you know why you are drinking like a pig? Because you are ashamt! Ashamt that you, once a promising researcher, should have solt out to freebooters with brains like decayed liver and —”
“That’ll do from you, Prof!”
“Say, we oughtta tie those seditious sons of hounds up and beat the daylight out of ’em!” whimpered one of the watchdogs.
Macgoblin shrieked, “You highbrows — you stinking intellectuals! You, you Kike, with your lush-luzurious library, while Common People been starving — would be now if the Chief hadn’t saved ’em! Your c’lection books — stolen from the pennies of your poor, dumb, foot-kissing congregation of pushcart peddlers!”
The Rabbi sat bespelled, fingering his beard, but Dr. Schmidt
