"Two spades," says Mrs. Collins.
Well, sir, they wasn't a spade in my hand, and I seen that if Mrs.
Collins got it we was ruined on account o' me not havin' a trump. And
w'ile I wanted Mrs. Collins to win I was goin' to do my best to not let
her. So I says:
"Two without."
"You know what you're doin', do you?" says Mrs. Garrett.
"What do you mean, know what I'm doin'?" I says.
"No talkin' acrost the boards," says Messenger.
"All right," I says; "but you can depend on me, pardner, not to throw
you down."
Well, Messenger passed and so did Mrs. Garrett; but Mrs. Collins wasn't
through.
"Three spades," she says.
"Three without," says I.
"I hope it's all right," says Mrs. Garrett.
"I'll tell you one thing," I says; "it's a whole lot all-righter than if
she played it in spades."
Messenger passed again and ditto for my pardner.
"I'll double," says Mrs. Collins, and we let it go at that.
Man, oh, man! You ought to seen our genial hostess when I laid down my
cards! And heard her, too! Her face turned all three colors o' Old
Glory. She slammed her hand down on the table, face up.
"I won't play it!" she hollers. "I won't be made a fool of! This poor
idiot deliberately told me he had spades stopped, and look at his hand!"
"You're mistaken, Mrs. Garrett," I says. "I didn't say nothin' about
spades."
"Shut your mouth!" she says. "That's what you ought to done all
evenin'."
"I might as well of," I says, "for all the good it done me to keep it
open at dinner."
Everybody in the room quit playin' and rubbered. Finally Garrett got up
from where he was settin' and come over.
"What seems to be the trouble?" he says. "This ain't no barroom."
"Nobody'd ever suspect it o' bein'," I says.
"Look what he done!" says Mrs. Garrett. "He raised my no-trump bid over
three spades without a spade in his hand."
"Well," says Mr. Garrett, "they's no use gettin' all fussed up over a
game o' cards. The thing to do is pick up your hand and play it out and
take your medicine."
"I can set her three," said Mrs. Collins. "I got seven spades, with the
ace, king and queen, and I'll catch her jack on the third lead."
"And I got the ace o' hearts," says Messenger. "Even if it didn't take a
trick it'd make aces easy; so our three hundred above the line gives
Mrs. Collins a score of about ten more'n Mrs. Garrett."
"All right, then," says Garrett. "Mrs. Collins is entitled to the lady's
prize."
"I don't want to take it," says Mrs. Collins.
"You got to take it," says Garrett.
And he give his wife a look that meant business. Anyway, she got up and
went out o' the room, and when she come back she was smilin'. She had
two packages in her hand, and she give one to Messenger and one to Mrs.
Collins.
"There's the prizes," she says; "and I hope you'll like 'em."
Messenger unwrapped his'n and it was one o' them round leather cases
that you use to carry extra collars in when you're travelin'. Messenger
had told me earlier in the evenin' that he hadn't been outside o'
Chicago in six years.
Mrs. Collins' prize was a chafin'-dish.
"I don't blame Mrs. Garrett for bein' so crazy to win it," I says to her
when they couldn't nobody hear. "Her and Garrett both must get hungry
along about nine or ten P.M."
"I hate to take it," says Mrs. Collins.
"I wouldn't feel that way," I says. "I guess Mrs. Garrett will chafe
enough without it."
When we was ready to go I shook hands with the host and hostess and says
I was sorry if I'd pulled a boner.
"It was to be expected," says Mrs. Garrett.
"Yes," I says; "a man's liable to do most anything when he's starvin' to
death."
The Messengers and Collinses was a little ways ahead of us on the stairs
and I wanted we should hurry and catch up with 'em.
"You let 'em go!" says the Missus. "You've spoiled everything now
without doin' nothin' more. Every time you talk you insult somebody."
"I ain't goin' to insult them," I says. "I'm just goin' to ask 'em to go
down to the corner and have a drink."
"You are not!" she says.
But she's just as good a prophet as she is a bridge player. They
wouldn't go along, though, sayin' it was late and they wanted to get to
bed.
"Well, if you won't, you won't," says I. "We'll see you all a week from
to-night. And don't forget, Mrs. Collins, that I'm responsible for you
winnin' that chafin'-dish, and I'm fond o' welsh rabbits."
I was glad that we didn't have to go far to our buildin'. The Missus was
pleasant company, just like a bloodhound with the rabies. I left her in
the vestibule and went down to help Mike close up. He likes to be
amongst friends at a sad hour like that.
At breakfast the next mornin' the Wife was more calm.
"Dearie," she says, "they don't neither one of us class as bridge
experts. I'll admit I got a lot to learn about the game. What we want to
do is play with the Hatches every evenin' this week, and maybe by next
Tuesday night we'll know somethin'."
"I'm willin'," I says.
"I'll call Mrs. Hatch up this forenoon," she says, "and see if they want
us to come over there this evenin'. But if we do go remember not to
mention our club or tell 'em anything about the party."
Well, she had news for me when I got home.
"The San Susies is busted up," she says. "Not forever, but for a few
months anyway. Mrs. Messenger called up to tell me."
"What's the idear?" I says.
"I don't know exactly," says the Missus. "Mrs. Messenger says that the
Collinses had boxes for the opera every Tuesday night and the rest
didn't feel like goin' on without the Collinses, and they couldn't all
o' them agree on another night."
"I don't see why they should bust it up on account o' one couple," I
says. "Why didn't you tell 'em about the Hatches? They're right here in
the neighborhood and can play bridge as good as anybody."
"I wouldn't think o' doin' it," says she. "They may play all right, but
think o' how they talk and how they dress!"
"Well," I says, "between you and I, I ain't goin' to take cyanide over a
piece o' news like this. Somehow it don't appeal to me to vote myself
dry every Tuesday night all winter--to say nothin' o' two dollars a week
annual dues to help buy a prize that I got no chance o' winnin' and
wouldn't know what to do with it if I had it."
"It'd of been nice, though," she says, "to make friends with them
people."
"Well," I says, "I'll feel a little more confident o' doin' that if I
see 'em once a year--or not at all."