"I bet you wondered who it was," says I.
"I thought it was Mrs. Hatch or somebody," says the Wife. "So I run to the phone and it was Mrs. Messenger. So the first thing she says was to explain who she was—just like I didn't know. And the next thing she ast was did I play bridge."
"And what did you tell her?" says I.
"What do you think I'd tell her?" says the Missus. "I told her yes."
"Wasn't you triflin' a little with the truth?" I ast her.
"Certainly not!" she says. "Haven't I played twice over to Hatches'? So then she ast me if my husband played bridge, too. And I told her yes, he did."
"What was the idear?" I says. "You know I didn't never play it in my life."
"I don't know no such a thing," she says. "For all as I know, you may play all day down to the office."
"No," I says; "we spend all our time down there playin' post-office with the scrubwomen."
"Well, anyway, I told her you did," says the Missus. "Don't you see they wasn't nothin' else I could tell her, because if I told her you didn't, that would of ended it."