“Oh, yes, you can, if you try—if I ask you to try! I’ll take that one, and that one!”
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. This one did you say? And this one?”
“Yes, please. Will you wrap them up in a neat parcel, and send them? Good morning.”
AT THE BRIDGE TABLE
“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Sevier, I’m going to play at this table. Where do I sit? Here? Perhaps you’d rather have this seat, with your back to the light, don’t you know? Cut for partners? Ace low. Why, isn’t that funny! I always thought the ace was the highest card of all, if you don’t use a joker. And you don’t in Bridge. Do you? No; I haven’t played very much, but I’m quick at catching on. I always say Bridge is for those who are too old or too married to flirt. Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Sevier, of course you’re not either! Well, I know you’ve been married twice, but that isn’t much nowadays. I’m perfectly sure I never shall be married at all. Of course, I’m only nineteen, but I think I look older. No? Well, one can’t tell about one’s looks. Mother says very few sensible men would want to marry me! But I tell her very few would be enough. Now, you needn’t laugh at that, Mr. Chapman, it’s quite true. Are you my partner? No? Oh, I play with Mr. Ritchie, and you play with Mrs. Sevier. Very well, let’s begin.”
“Shall we play Lilies?”
“Play Lilies? Why, Mr. Chapman, I thought we were to play Bridge! I took half a dozen lessons a year ago. I haven’t played since, but I’ve a marvelous memory. Oh, I see, you’re just chaffing me, because my name is Lilly! You mean you’ll play Lilly’s game. Now, you’ll excuse me, won’t you, if I sort my cards face down, on the table? Why, I seem to have five suits! I declare, my hand is a perfect rubbish heap! Oh, Mrs. Sevier, have you joined that new City Beautiful Club? I’m on the Rubbish Committee, and I have to read a paper on the æsthetic decoration of ash cans, or Art in Rubbish. It’s such fun! I love women’s clubs. I’m going to join another. I forget what it’s called, but they want poor, dumb animals to have a vote, or something like that. Well, come on, people, let’s play Bridge. Oh, don’t look like that, Mr. Ritchie! Gay and festive, please! Is it my deal? Well, you just deal for me. I always come out wrong.
“What are my conventions? Really, I haven’t any. I’m the most unconventional person you ever saw. Why, mother says—but speaking of conventions, our Federated Clubs are going to have a stunning convention next week. That’s where I’m going to read my paper. I’ve a screaming new costume—and a hat! Well, if I began to tell you about that hat it would interrupt our game. Wait till I’m Dummy, Mrs. Sevier, and I’ll tell you. I expect these men wouldn’t really care to—Oh, my discard? Yes, indeed—I—why, yes, of course I always discard spades. They count the least, you know.”
“Unless they’re lilies.”