Part 12

I have very carefully thought over the little problem which you were good enough to submit to me for solution. It seems to me that when you have a knave alone, it is often a wise plan to discard him, but holding, as you do, a knave and two little ones, it would seem the better part of discretion not to discard him.

I am, my dear Mrs. ——, yours, etc.

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A well-known widow in London was a guest at a large house party. She was an enthusiastic bridger. She took the game very seriously—so seriously that she frequently dreamed about it, and even, her maid declared, talked about it in her sleep.

Everybody had been playing fairly late and the ladies had gone to their rooms and “turned in” at about twelve o’clock. The men had played until about two. Shortly after this, the housekeeper, in making her final round of the house, was startled to hear the widow’s voice addressing somebody in an agonized and supplicating way.

As the door of the widow’s room was ajar, the housekeeper paused in some alarm, only to hear her call out: “My diamonds, my diamonds, why didn’t I protect them? I am lost, absolutely lost!”

The housekeeper, not knowing the intricacies of bridge and thoroughly alarmed by the idea of a burglar in the widow’s room, rushed to the host’s door and hastily summoned him to the rescue. After a somewhat noisy consultation between them, as a result of which some of the disrobing bachelors were attracted to the scene of conflict, a united descent was made upon the unfortunate widow’s stronghold. The net result of the sortie was that the widow was greatly annoyed, the host was unmercifully chaffed, and the housekeeper received her first lesson in bridge.

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“It was,” said the Knickerbocker bridge fiend, “at the Hotel Splendide-Royale in Aix-les-Bains. I was playing twenty-cent points, which is just double my usual limit. I had lost six consecutive rubbers. I had cut, each rubber, against a peculiarly malevolent-looking Spaniard, who had a reputation at cards which was none too savory. There had been trouble about him only the day before at the Casino des Fleurs, where he had been mixed up in a somewhat unpleasant baccarat scandal. He was a crafty and sullen bridge player and I had conceived a most cordial dislike to him.

“Finally—it was hideously late and the card-room waiter was snoring in the service closet—my time for revenge arrived. It was my deal, and I saw at a glance that I had dealt myself an enormous hand. I could hardly believe my eyes. I held nine spades with the four top honors, the bare ace of clubs, the bare ace of hearts, and the king and queen of diamonds. Here was a certainty of eleven tricks at no trumps and very possibly twelve or thirteen. I looked at the Spaniard, whose turn it was to lead, and I smiled exultantly.

“‘No trumps,’ I said, the note of triumph quite perceptible in my voice. Quick as a flash the Spaniard had doubled—and quick as another I had redoubled.

“When, however, he had jacked it up to 96 a trick, I hesitated, but of course went at him again with 192. ‘Ah, ha!,’ I said to myself, ‘Mr. bird of ill omen, you are my prey, my chosen victim for the sacrifice.’

“The price per trick had soon sailed up to 1,536, and I ventured to look at my partner. He was chalky white about the gills and his eyes seemed to stare idiotically into space. His expression prompted me to take pity on him and say ‘enough.’

“Suddenly I had a terrible feeling of alarm. Had I mistaken the queen of diamonds for the queen of hearts? If so, my king of diamonds was bare and the mysterious Spaniard might run off twelve diamond tricks before I could say ‘Jack Robinson.’ With a sinking heart I looked at my hand again—all was well! The queen was surely a diamond. I glanced at the olive-skinned gentleman and begged him to lead a card. I felt a great joy welling up within me.

“At this moment the Spaniard led a card and I looked at it nervously. As soon as my eyes beheld it my heart seemed to stop beating. He had opened the ace of a strange green suit, a suit which I had never seen before, a suit all covered with mysterious figures and symbols. I felt strangely giddy but discarded a low spade. I looked at my partner, who was the picture of despair. He said, mechanically and as though life had lost all beauty for him, ‘Having no hyppogryphs?’ to which icy inquiry I answered in a strange whisper, ‘No gryppolyphs.’

“The leader followed with another green card, a king this time, and again I sacrificed another beautiful spade. The Spaniard smiled a mahogany smile and proceeded to run off his entire suit of thirteen green cards. He then nonchalantly scored up a grand slam, the game, and a rubber of 10,450 points or $2,090. I felt my brain reeling and fainted away with my head on the card table. Very soon, however, I thought I felt the Spaniard tugging at my coat sleeve. My anger at this was beyond all bounds. I opened my eyes, prepared to strike the crafty foreigner in his wicked face, and saw—my servant standing by my bed with my breakfast tray in his hands and my bathrobe on his arm.”

THE THEATER

THE THEATER

At the theater it is smart to “roast the show.” Do not be afraid of wounding the feelings of your host and hostess. It is an even chance that they are more bored than you. If the actors seem to object to your conversation or show annoyance or impatience, try to remember that they are not, as a rule, well bred, and are ignorant of all the graceful little social conventions.

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On leaving the opera with ladies, do not go into the draughty side corridors with them, or you will surely be forced to look out for their carriage, a tedious and bothersome occupation. The wisest thing to do is to say that you have an appointment, and merge yourself with the rabble who are leaving by the front door, allowing the ladies to remain in the side corridors, where their footmen will sooner or later discover them.

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Never give a theater party in stalls. Boxes are obligatory. In seats, the men cannot go out for refreshment, and the ladies are forced to remove their hats, a tragedy usually accompanied by the most distressing and ignominious disclosures.

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Ladies who have opera boxes given them at the last moment should “get on the job” at once and offer it to such of their friends as they know to be either out of town or engaged for that evening. A box has been known, under such circumstances, to pay off a dozen obligations in a single day.

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In New York a theater party is often a very boring and tedious form of revelry. It is always wise to send a “feeler” before accepting a lady’s invitation to dine and go to the play. The following is a safe model for such a missive: