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?”