make the infected parties more set on gettin’ each other. This here case was somethin’ delicate, and if a man didn’t handle it exactly right you wouldn’t never get over bein’ sorry.
So, instead o’ me quarrelin’ with the Wife and Bess, and raisin’ a fuss at Bishop spendin’ eight evenin’s a week with us, I kept my clam closed and tried to be pleasant, even when I’d win a hand o’ rummy and see this guy carelessly lose a few of his remainin’ face cards under the table.
We had an awful spell o’ heat in July and it wasn’t no fun playin’ cards or goin’ to pitcher shows, or nothin’. Saturday afternoons and Sundays, I and the Missus would go over to the lake and splash. Bess only went with us a couple o’ times; that was because she couldn’t get Bishop to come along. He’d always say he was busy, or he had a cold and was afraid o’ makin’ it worse. So far as I was concerned, I managed to enjoy my baths just as much with them two stayin’ away. The sight o’ Bessie in a bathin’ suit crabbed the exhilaratin’ effects o’ the swim. When she stood up in the water the minnows must of thought two people was still-fishin’.
It was one night at supper, after Bessie’d been with us about a month, when the idear come to me. Bishop was there, and I’d been lookin’ at he and Bess, and wonderin’ what they’d seen in each other. The Missus ast ’em if they was goin’ out some place.
“No,” says Bessie. “It’s too hot and they ain’t no place to go.”
“They’s lots o’ places to go,” says the Wife. “For one thing, they’re havin’ grand opera out to Ravinia Park.”
“I wouldn’t give a nickel to see a grand opera,” says Bess, “unless it was Ada , that Elmer took us to last winter.”
So they went on talkin’ about somethin’ else. I don’t know what, because the minute she mentioned Ada I was all set.