I can tell you the rest of it in about a minute. The Missus had became resigned and everything was goin’ along smooth till last Tuesday evenin’. They was a new Chaplin show over to the Acme and we was on our way to see it. At the entrance to the buildin’ where the Messengers lives we seen Mr. and Mrs. Hatch.
“Hello, there!” says the Wife. “Better come along with us to the Acme.”
“Not tonight,” says Mrs. Hatch. “We’re tied up every Tuesday evenin’.”
“Some club?” ast the Missus.
“Yes,” says Mrs. Hatch. “It’s a bridge club—the San Susie. The Messengers and Collinses and Garretts and us and some other people’s in it. Two weeks ago we was to Collinses’, and last week to Beardsleys’; and tonight the Messengers is the hosts.”
The Missus tried to say somethin’, and couldn’t.
“I been awful lucky,” says Mrs. Hatch. “I win the prize at Collinses’. It was a silver pitcher—the prettiest you ever seen!”
The Missus found her voice.
“Do you have dinner, too?” she ast.
“I should say we do!” says Mrs. Hatch. “And simply grand stuff to eat! It was nice last week at Beardsleys’; but you ought to been at Collinses’! First, they was an old-fashioned beefsteak supper; and then, when we was through playin’, Mrs. Collins made us welsh rabbits in her chafin’ dish.”