You Should Worry Says John Henry Part 11

When friend wife got a flash of this letter she made a kick to the effect that it was some kind of a cypher, possibly the beginning of a secret correspondence.

It was up to me to hand Gladys the frosty get-back, so this is what I said:

Respected Madam:--I'm a slob on that auction bridge thing, plain poker being the only game with cards that ever coaxes my dough from the stocking, but I'll do the advice gag if it chokes me:

Auction bridge is played with cards, just like pinochle, with the exception of the beer.

Not enough cards is a misdeal; too many cards is a mistake; and cards up the sleeve is a slap on the front piazza, if they catch you at it.

When bidding don't get excited and think you're attending an auction of s.h.i.+rt-waists at a fire-sale. It distresses your partner terribly to hear you say, "I'll bid two dollars!" when what you meant was two spades. Much better it is that you smile across the table at him and say, "I bid you good evening!"

You shouldn't get up and dance the Kitchen Sink dance every time you take a trick. It looks more genteel and picturesque to do the Castle Walk.

When your opponent has not followed suit it is not wise to pick out a loud tone of voice and tell him about it. Reach under the table and kick him on the s.h.i.+ns. If it hurts him he is a cheater; if it doesn't hurt him always remember that you are a lady.

When you are dummy the new rules permit you to call a revoke. When you see your partner messing up a sure "going-outer" you may also call the police; then get out your calling cards and call your partner down, being, of course, particular and ladylike in your selection of adjectives.

Don't forget what is trumps more than eighteen times during one hand. The limit used to be twenty-six times, but since the outbreak of the Mexican war the best auction bridge authorities have put the limit down to eighteen.

It isn't wise to have a conniption fit every time you lose a trick.

Nothing looks so bad as a conniption fit when it doesn't match the complexion, and generally it delays the game.

When your partner has doubled a no-trump call and you forget to lead his suit the best plan is to hurry out the front door, take a street car to the end of the line; then double back in a taxi to the nearest railway station; get the first train going West and go the limit--then take a steamer, sail for j.a.pan and don't come back for seven years. Your partner may forget about it in that time. If he doesn't, then you must continue to live in j.a.pan. All authorities agree on this point.

When the game is close, don't get excited and climb up on the table. It shows a want of refinement, especially if you are not a quick climber.

While running a grand slam to cover, the best authorities, including Bob Carter, claim that you should breathe hoa.r.s.ely through the front teeth, pausing from time to time to recite brief pa.s.sages from Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Never whistle while waiting for someone to play. Whistling is not in good taste. Go over and bite out a couple of tunes on the piano.

When your opponent trumps an ace don't ever hit him carelessly across the forehead with the bric-a-brac. Always remember when you are in Society that bric-a-brac is expensive.

If your partner bids five spades and you get the impression that he is balmy in the bean don't show it in your face. Such authorities as Fred Perry and d.i.c.k Ling claim that the proper thing to do is to arise gracefully from your chair and sing something plaintive, in minor chords. This generally brings your partner back to earth, because nine times out of ten he is only temporarily crazy with the heat.

Don't lead the ten of clubs by mistake for the ace of trumps and then get mad and jump seventeen feet in the air because they refuse to let you pull it back.

In order to jump seventeen feet in the air you would have to go through the room upstairs, and how do you know whose room it is?

There, Gladys, if you follow these rules I think you can play the game of auction bridge without putting a bruise on the law regulating the income tax.

P. S. When you play for money always bite the coin to see if it means as much as it looks.

I hope Gladys wasn't offended.

She hasn't sent me even a postal card containing thanks and a view of Chestnut Street.

CHAPTER IX

YOU SHOULD WORRY ABOUT GETTING THE GRIP

Say! did you ever put on the goggles and go joy-riding with an attack of grip?

It has all other forms of amus.e.m.e.nt hushed to a lullaby--take it from Uncle Hank.

As a Bad Boy the grip has every other disease slapped to a sobbing stand-still.

It's dollars to pretzels that the grip germ is the brainiest little bug that was ever chased by a doctor.

I was sitting quietly at home reading Maeterlinck on Auction Bridge when suddenly I began to sneeze like a Russian regiment answering roll call.

Friend wife was deep in the mysteries of Ibsen's latest achievement, "The Rise and Fall of the Hobble Skirt," but she politely acknowledged my first sneeze with the customary "Gesundheit!"

Then she trailed along bravely with her responses for ten or fifteen minutes, but it was no use--I had more sneezes in my system than there are "Gesundheits!" in the entire German nation, including princ.i.p.alities, possessions across the sea, and the Musical Union.

"John," she ventured after a time, "you are getting a cold!"

"I'm not getting it," I sniffed; "I have it now."

What a mean, contemptible little creature a grip germ must be.

Absolutely without any of the finer instincts, it sneaks into people's systems disguised as an ordinary cold. It isn't on the level, like appendicitis or inflammatory rheumatism, both of which are brave and fearless and will walk right up to you and kick you on the s.h.i.+ns, big as you are.

n.o.body ever knows just what make-up the grip germs will put on to break into the human system, but once they get a foothold in the epiglottis nothing can remove them except inward applications of dynamite.

The grip germ hates the idea of race suicide.

I discovered shortly after I had sneezed myself into a condition of pale blue profanity that a newly married couple of grip germs had taken a notion to build a nest somewhere on the outskirts of my solar plexus, and two hours later they had about 233 children attending the public school in my medusa oblongata; and every time school would let out for recess I would go up in the air and hit the ceiling with my Lima.

Before daylight came all these grip children had graduated from school and, after tearing down the school-house, the whole bunch had married and had large families of their own, and all hands were out paddling their canoes on my alimentary ca.n.a.l.

By nine o'clock that morning there must have been eighty-five million grip germs armed with self-loading revolvers all trying to shoot their initials over the walls of my interior department.

It was fierce!

When Doctor Leiser arrived on the scene I was carrying enough concealed weapons to start something in Mexico.

The good old pill-pusher threw his saws behind the sofa, put his dip-net on the mantelpiece, and took a fall out of my pulse.

"Ah!" he said, after he had noted that my tongue looked like a currycomb.

"The same to you, Doc," I said.

"Ah!" he said, looking hard at the wall.

"Say, Doc!" I whispered; "there's no use to cut off my leg because the germs will hide in my elbow."