“Nice work!” I says to the Missus. “You’re the Philadelphia Athletics of auction bridge.”
“What was you biddin’ no trump on?” she says. “I thought, o’ course, you’d have one high heart and some suit.”
“You don’t want to start thinkin’ at your age,” I says. “You can’t learn an old dog new tricks.”
Mrs. Nap’s husband cut in.
“O’ course,” he says, “it’s a man’s privilege to call your wife anything you feel like callin’ her. But your Missus don’t hardly look old to me.”
“No, not comparatively speakin’,” I says, and he shut up.
They moved on and along come Garrett and Mrs. Messenger. I and Mrs. Messenger was pardners and I thought for a w’ile we was goin’ to win. But Garrett and the Missus had a bouquet o’ four-leaf clovers in the last two deals and licked us. Garrett wasn’t supposed to be as smart as his wife, but he was fox enough to keep biddin’ over my Missus, so as he’d do the playin’ instead o’ she.
It wasn’t till pretty near the close o’ the evenin’s entertainment that I got away from that table and moved to Number Two. When I set down there it was I and Mrs. Collins against her husband and Mrs. Sleeper.
“Well, Mrs. Collins,” I says, “I’ll try and hold some good hands for you and maybe I can have two helpin’s o’ the meat when we come to your house.”
The other lady opened her eyes long enough to ask who was winnin’.
“Oh, Mrs. Garrett’s way ahead,” says Mrs. Collins. “She’s got a score o’ somethin’ like three thousand. And Mr. Messenger is high amongst the men.”
“Who’s next to the leadin’ lady?” I ast her.
“I guess I am,” she says. “But I’m three hundred behind Mrs. Garrett.”
Well, the luck I’d just bumped into stayed with me and I and Mrs. Collins won and moved to the head table. Waitin’ there for us was our darlin’ hostess and Messenger, the two leaders in the pennant race. It was give out that this was to be the last game.
When Mrs. Garrett realized who was goin’ to be her pardner I wisht you could of seen her face!
“This is an unexpected pleasure,” she says to me. “I thought you liked the third table so well you was goin’ to stay there all evenin’.”
“I did intend to,” I says; “but I seen you up here and I heard you was leadin’ the league, so I thought I’d like to help you finish in front.”
“I don’t need no help,” she says. “All I ast is for you to not overbid your hands, and I’ll do the rest.”
“How many are you, Mrs. Garrett?” ast Mrs. Collins.
“Thirty-two hundred and sixty,” she says.
“Oh, my!” says Mrs. Collins, “I’m hopeless. I’m only twenty-nine hundred and forty-eight. And how about you, Mr. Messenger?”
“Round thirty-one hundred,” he says.
“Yes,” says Mrs. Garrett, “and I don’t believe any o’ the rest o’ the men is within five hundred o’ that.”
“Well, Messenger,” I says, “if the men’s prize happens to be a case o’ beer or a steak smothered in onions, don’t forget that I’m payin’ you thirty-five a month for a thirty-dollar flat.”
Now, I’d of gave my right eye to see Mrs. Collins beat Mrs. Garrett out. But I was goin’ to do my best for Mrs. Garrett just the same, because I don’t think it’s square for a man to not try and play your hardest all the time in any kind of a game, no matter where your sympathies lays. So when it come my turn to bid on the first hand, and I seen the ace and king and four other hearts in my hand, I raised Mrs. Collins’ bid o’ two diamonds, and Mrs. Garrett made it two no trump and got away with it. On the next two deals Messenger and Mrs. Collins made a game, and Mrs. Garrett got set a trick once on a bid o’ five clubs. The way the score was when it come to the last deal, I figured that if Mrs. Collins and Messenger made another game and rubber, the two women’d be mighty close to even.
Mrs. Garrett dealt ’em, and says: “One without.”
“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
