by Ring Lardner
Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive)
Gullible's Travels, Etc.
_By_ RING W. LARDNER
_Author of_ You Know Me, Al, etc.
_Illustrated by_ MAY WILSON PRESTON
INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
COPYRIGHT 1917 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOK MANUFACTURERS BROOKLYN, N. Y.
"Please see that they's some towels put in 559."]
CONTENTS
CARMEN
THREE KINGS AND A PAIR
GULLIBLE'S TRAVELS
THE WATER CURE
THREE WITHOUT, DOUBLED
Gullible's Travels, Etc.
CARMEN
We was playin' rummy over to Hatch's, and Hatch must of fell in a bed offour-leaf clovers on his way home the night before, because he playsrummy like he does everything else; but this night I refer to youcouldn't beat him, and besides him havin' all the luck my Missus playedlike she'd been bought off, so when we come to settle up we was plainseven and a half out. You know who paid it. So Hatch says:
"They must be some game you can play."
"No," I says, "not and beat you. I can run two blocks w'ile you'restoopin' over to start, but if we was runnin' a foot race between eachother, and suppose I was leadin' by eighty yards, a flivver'd prob'lycome up and hit you in the back and bump you over the finishin' lineahead o' me."
So Mrs. Hatch thinks I'm sore on account o' the seven-fifty, so shesays:
"It don't seem fair for us to have all the luck."
"Sure it's fair!" I says. "If you didn't have the luck, what would youhave?"
"I know," she says; "but I don't never feel right winnin' money atcards."
"I don't blame you," I says.
"I know," she says; "but it seems like we should ought to give it backor else stand treat, either one."
"Jim's too old to change all his habits," I says.
"Oh, well," says Mrs. Hatch, "I guess if I told him to loosen up he'dloosen up. I ain't lived with him all these years for nothin'."
"You'd be a sucker if you did," I says.
So they all laughed, and when they'd quieted down Mrs. Hatch says:
"I don't suppose you'd feel like takin' the money back?"
"Not without a gun," I says. "Jim's pretty husky."
So that give them another good laugh; but finally she says:
"What do you say, Jim, to us takin' the money they lose to us andgettin' four tickets to some show?"
Jim managed to stay conscious, but he couldn't answer nothin'; so myMissus says:
"That'd be grand of you to do it, but don't think you got to."
Well, of course, Mrs. Hatch knowed all the w'ile she didn't have to, butfrom what my Missus says she could tell that if they really give us theinvitation we wouldn't start no fight. So they talked it over betweenthemself w'ile I and Hatch went out in the kitchen and split a pint o'beer, and Hatch done the pourin' and his best friend couldn't say hegive himself the worst of it. So when we come back my Missus and Mrs.Hatch had it all framed that the Hatches was goin' to take us to a show,and the next thing was what show would it be. So Hatch found theafternoon paper, that somebody'd left on the street-car, and read us offa list o' the shows that was in town. I spoke for the Columbia, but theMissus give me the sign to stay out; so they argued back and forth andfinally Mrs. Hatch says:
"Let's see that paper a minute."
"What for?" says Hatch. "I didn't hold nothin' out on you."
But he give her the paper and she run through the list herself, and thenshe says:
"You did, too, hold out on us. You didn't say nothin' about theAuditorium."
"What could I say about it?" says Hatch. "I never was inside."
"It's time you was then," says Mrs. Hatch.
"What's playin' there?" I says.
"Grand op'ra," says Mrs. Hatch.
"Oh!" says my Missus. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
"What do you say?" says Mrs. Hatch to me.
"I think it'd be grand for you girls," I says. "I and Jim could leaveyou there and go down on Madison and see Charley Chaplin, and then comeback after you."
"Nothin' doin'!" says Mrs. Hatch. "We'll pick a show that everybodywants to see."
Well, if I hadn't of looked at my Missus then we'd of been O. K. But myeyes happened to light on where she was settin' and she was chewin' herlips so's she wouldn't cry. That finished me. "I was just kiddin'," Isays to Mrs. Hatch. "They ain't nothin' I'd like better than grandop'ra."
"Nothin' except gettin' trimmed in a rummy game," says Hatch, but hedidn't get no rise.
Well, the Missus let loose of her lips so's she could smile and her andMrs. Hatch got all excited, and I and Hatch pretended like we wasexcited too. So Hatch ast what night could we go, and Mrs. Hatch saysthat depended on what did we want to hear, because they changed the billevery day. So her and the Missus looked at the paper again and found outwhere Friday night was goin' to be a big special night and the bill wasa musical show called _Carmen_, and all the stars was goin' to sing,includin' Mooratory and Alda and Genevieve Farr'r, that was in themovies a w'ile till they found out she could sing, and some fella theycalled Daddy, but I don't know his real name. So the girls both saysFriday night was the best, but Hatch says he would have to go to lodgethat evenin'.
"Lodge!" says Mrs. Hatch. "What do you care about lodge when you got achance to see Genevieve Farr'r in _Carmen_?"
"Chance!" says Hatch. "If that's what you call a chance, I got a chanceto buy a thousand shares o' Bethlehem Steel. Who's goin' to pay for mychance?"
"All right," says Mrs. Hatch, "go to your old lodge and spoileverything!"
So this time it was her that choked up and made like she was goin' toblubber. So Hatch changed his mind all of a sudden and decided todisappoint the brother Owls. So all of us was satisfied except fifty percent., and I and the Missus beat it home, and on the way she says hownice Mrs. Hatch was to give us this treat.
"Yes," I says, "but if you hadn't of had a regular epidemic o'discardin' deuces and treys Hatch would of treated us to groceries for aweek." I says: "I always thought they was only twelve pitcher cards inthe deck till I seen them hands you saved up to-night."
"You lose as much as I did," she says.
"Yes," I says, "and I always will as long as you forget to fetch yourpurse along."
So they wasn't no come-back to that, so we went on home without no moredialogue.
Well, Mrs. Hatch called up the next night and says Jim had the ticketsboughten and we was to be sure and be ready at seven o'clock Fridaynight because the show started at eight. So when I was down-town Fridaythe Missus sent my evenin' dress suit over to Katzes' and had it pressedup and when I come home it was laid out on the bed like a corpse.
"What's that for?" I says.
"For the op'ra," she says. "Everybody wears them to the op'ra."
"Did you ask the Hatches what was they goin' to wear?" I says.
"No," says she. "They know what to wear without me tellin' them. Theyain't goin' to the Auditorium in their nightgown."
So I clumb into the soup and fish, and the Missus spent about a hourputtin' on a dress that she could have left off without nobody knowin'the difference, and she didn't have time for no supper at all, and Ijust managed to surround a piece o' steak as big as your eye and spillsome gravy on my clo'es when the bell rung and there was the Hatches.
W
ell, Hatch didn't have no more evenin' dress suit on than a kewpie. Icould see his pants under his overcoat and they was the same old baypants he'd wore the day he got mad at his kid and christened himKenneth. And his shoes was a last year's edition o' the kind that'ssupposed to give your feet a chance, and if his feet had of been thekind that takes chances they was two or three places where they could ofgot away without much trouble.
I could tell from the expression on Mrs. Hatch's face when she seen ourmake-up that we'd crossed her. She looked about as comf'table as aBelgium.
"Oh!" she says. "I didn't think you'd dress up."
"We thought you would," says my Frau.
"We!" I says. "Where do you get that 'we'?"
"If it ain't too late we'll run in and change," says my Missus.
"Not me," I says. "I didn't go to all this trouble and expense for asplash o' gravy. When this here uniform retires it'll be to make roomfor pyjamas."
"Come on!" says Hatch. "What's the difference? You can pretend like youain't with us."
"It don't really make no difference," says Mrs. Hatch.
And maybe it didn't. But we all stood within whisperin' distance of eachother on the car goin' in, and if you had a dollar for every word thatwas talked among us you couldn't mail a postcard from Hammond to Gary.When we got off at Congress my Missus tried to thaw out the party.
"The prices is awful high, aren't they?" she says.
"Outrageous," says Mrs. Hatch.
Well, even if the prices was awful high, they didn't have nothin' on ourseats. If I was in trainin' to be a steeple jack I'd go to grand op'raevery night and leave Hatch buy my ticket. And where he took us I'd ofbeen more at home in overalls and a sport shirt.
"How do you like Denver?" says I to the Missus, but she'd sank for thethird time.
"We're safe here," I says to Hatch. "Them French guns can't never reachus. We'd ought to brought more bumbs."
"What did the seats cost?" I says to Hatch.
"One-fifty," he says.
"Very reasonable," says I. "One o' them aviators wouldn't take you morethan half this height for a five-spot."
The Hatches had their overcoats off by this time and I got a look attheir full costume. Hatch had went without his vest durin' the hotmonths and when it was alongside his coat and pants it looked like twodifferent families. He had a pink shirt with prune-colored horizontalbars, and a tie to match his neck, and a collar that would of took careof him and I both, and them shoes I told you about, and burlap hosiery.They wasn't nothin' the matter with Mrs. Hatch except she must ofthought that, instead o' dressin' for the op'ra, she was gettin' readyfor Kenneth's bath.
And there was my Missus, just within the law, and me all spicked andspanned with my soup and fish and gravy!
Well, we all set there and tried to get the focus till about a half-hourafter the show was billed to commence, and finally a Lilliputhian with amatch in his hand come out and started up the orchestry and they playeda few o' the hits and then the lights was turned out and up went thecurtain.
Well, sir, you'd be surprised at how good we could hear and see after wegot used to it. But the hearin' didn't do us no good--that is, the wordspart of it. All the actors had been smuggled in from Europe and theywasn't none o' them that could talk English. So all their songs was gavein different languages and I wouldn't of never knew what was goin' ononly for Hatch havin' all the nerve in the world.
After the first act a lady that was settin' in front of us droppedsomethin' and Hatch stooped over and picked it up, and it was one o'these here books they call a liberetto, and it's got all the wordsthey're singin' on the stage wrote out in English.
So the lady begin lookin' all over for it and Hatch was goin' to give itback because he thought it was a shoe catalogue, but he happened to seeat the top of it where it says "Price 25 Cents," so he tossed it in hislap and stuck his hat over it. And the lady kept lookin' and lookin' andfinally she turned round and looked Hatch right in the eye, but hedropped down inside his collar and left her wear herself out. So whenshe'd gave up I says somethin' about I'd like to have a drink.
"Let's go," says Hatch.
"No," I says. "I don't want it bad enough to go back to town after it. Ithought maybe we could get it sent up to the room."
"I'm goin' alone then," says Hatch.
"You're liable to miss the second act," I says.
"I'd never miss it," says Hatch.
"All right," says I. "I hope you have good weather."
So he slipped me the book to keep for him and beat it. So I seen thelady had forgot us, and I opened up the book and that's how I come tofind out what the show was about. I read her all through, the part thatwas in English, before the curtain went up again, so when the second actbegin I knowed what had came off and what was comin' off, and Hatch andMrs. Hatch hadn't no idear if the show was comical or dry. My Missushadn't, neither, till we got home and I told her the plot.
* * * * *
_Carmen_ ain't no regular musical show where a couple o' Yids comes outand pulls a few lines o' dialogue and then a girl and a he-flirt sings asong that ain't got nothin' to do with it. _Carmen's_ a regular play,only instead o' them sayin' the lines, they sing them, and in for'nlanguages so's the actors can pick up some loose change offen the saleo' the liberettos. The music was wrote by George S. Busy, and it must ofkept him that way about two mont's. The words was either throwedtogether by the stage carpenter or else took down by a stenographeroutdoors durin' a drizzle. Anyway, they ain't nobody claims them. Everyoncet in three or four pages they forget themself and rhyme. You got toread each verse over two or three times before you learn what they'rehintin' at, but the management gives you plenty o' time to do it betweenacts and still sneak a couple o' hours' sleep.
The first act opens up somewheres in Spain, about the corner o' ChicagoAvenue and Wells. On one side o' the stage they's a pill mill where theemployees is all girls, or was girls a few years ago. On the other sidethey's a soldiers' garage where they keep the militia in case of astrike. In the back o' the stage they's a bridge, but it ain't over nowater or no railroad tracks or nothin'. It's prob'ly somethin' the catdragged in.
Well, the soldiers stands out in front o' the garage hittin' up somebarber shops, and pretty soon a girl blows in from the hero's home town,Janesville or somewheres. She runs a few steps every little w'ile andthen stops, like the rails was slippery. The soldiers sings at her andshe tells them she's came to look for Don Joss that run the chop-sueydump up to Janesville, but when they shet down on him servin' beer hequit and joined the army. So the soldiers never heard o' the bird, butthey all ask her if they won't do just as good, but she says nothin'doin' and skids off the stage. She ain't no sooner gone when theChinaman from Janesville and some more soldiers and some alley ratscomes in to help out the singin'. The book says that this new gang o'soldiers was sent on to relieve the others, but if anything happened towear out the first ones it must of took place at rehearsal. Well, one o'the boys tells Joss about the girl askin' for him and he says: "Oh, yes;that must be the little Michaels girl from up in Wisconsin."
So pretty soon the whistle blows for noon and the girls comes out o' thepill mill smokin' up the mornin' receipts and a crowd o' the unemployedcomes in to shoot the snipes. So the soldiers notices that GenevieveFarr'r ain't on yet, so they ask where she's at, and that's her cue. Sheputs on a song number and a Spanish dance, and then she slips herbouquet to the Chink, though he ain't sang a note since the whistleblowed. But now it's one o'clock and Genevieve and the rest o' the girlsbeats it back to the coffin factory and the vags chases down to the Loopto get the last home edition and look at the want ads to see if they'sany jobs open with fair pay and nothin' to do. And the soldiers moseyinto the garage for a well-earned rest and that leaves Don all alone onthe stage.
But he ain't no more than started on his next song when back comes theMichaels girl. It oozes out here that she's in love with the Joss party,but she stalls and pretends like his mot
her'd sent her to get thereceipt for makin' eggs _fo yung_. And she says his mother ast her tokiss him and she slips him a dime, so he leaves her kiss him on thescalp and he asks her if she can stay in town that evenin' and see anickel show, but they's a important meetin' o' the Maccabees atJanesville that night, so away she goes to catch the two-ten and Donstarts in on another song number, but the rest o' the company don't likehis stuff and he ain't hardly past the vamp when they's a riot.
It seems like Genevieve and one o' the chorus girls has quarreled over asecond-hand stick o' gum and the chorus girl got the gum, but Genevieverelieved her of part of a earlobe, so they pinch Genevieve and leaveJoss to watch her till the wagon comes, but the wagon's went out to thenight desk sergeant's house with a case o' quarts and before it getsround to pick up Genevieve she's bunked the Chink into settin' her free.So she makes a getaway, tellin' Don to meet her later on at Lily andPat's place acrost the Indiana line. So that winds up the first act.
Well, the next act's out to Lily and Pat's, and it ain't no Y.M.C.A.headquarters, but it's a hang-out for dips and policemans. They's acabaret and Genevieve's one o' the performers, but she forgets the wordsto her first song and winds up with tra-la-la, and she could of forgotthe whole song as far as I'm concerned, because it wasn't nothin' you'dwant to buy and take along home.
Finally Pat comes in and says it's one o'clock and he's got to close up,but they won't none o' them make a move, and pretty soon they's a liveone blows into the joint and he's Eskimo Bill, one o' the butchers outto the Yards. He's got paid that day and he ain't never goin' home. Hesings a song and it's the hit o' the show. Then he buys a drink andstarts flirtin' with Genevieve, but Pat chases everybody but theperformers and a couple o' dips that ain't got nowheres else to sleep.The dips or stick-up guys, or whatever they are, tries to get Genevieveto go along with them in the car w'ile they pull off somethin', butshe's still expectin' the Chinaman. So they pass her up and blow, andalong comes Don and she lets him in, and it seems like he'd been in jailfor two mont's, or ever since the end o' the first act. So he asks herhow everything has been goin' down to the pill mill and she tells himthat she's quit and became a entertainer. So he says, "What can you do?"And she beats time with a pair o' chopsticks and dances the ChineseBlues.
After a w'ile they's a bugle call somewhere outdoors and Don says thatmeans he's got to go back to the garage. So she gets sore and tries tobean him with a Spanish onion. Then he reaches inside his coat and pullsout the bouquet she give him in Atto First to show her he ain't changedhis clo'es, and then the sheriff comes in and tries to coax him with arazor to go back to his job. They fight like it was the first timeeither o' them ever tried it and the sheriff's leadin' on points whenGenevieve hollers for the dips, who dashes in with their gats pulled andit's good night, Mister Sheriff! They put him in moth balls and they askJoss to join their tong. He says all right and they're all pretty welllit by this time and they've reached the singin' stage, and Pat can'tget them to go home and he's scared some o' the Hammond people'll put ina complaint, so he has the curtain rang down.
Then they's a relapse of it don't say how long, and Don and Genevieveand the yeggs and their lady friends is all out in the countrysomewheres attendin' a Bohunk Sokol Verein picnic and Don starts whinin'about his old lady that he'd left up to Janesville.
"I wisht I was back there," he says.
"You got nothin' on me," says Genevieve. "Only Janesville ain't farenough. I wisht you was back in Hongkong."
So w'ile they're flatterin' each other back and forth, a couple o' thegirls is monkeyin' with the pasteboards and tellin' their fortunes, andone o' them turns up a two-spot and that's a sign they're goin' to singa duet. So it comes true and then Genevieve horns into the game and theyplay three-handed rummy, singin' all the w'ile to bother each other, butfinally the fellas that's runnin' the picnic says it's time for the fatman's one-legged race and everybody goes offen the stage. So theMichaels girl comes on and is gettin' by pretty good with a song whenshe's scared by the noise o' the gun that's fired to start the race forthe bay-window championship. So she trips back to her dressin'-room andthen Don and Eskimo Bill put on a little slap-stick stuff.
When they first meet they're pals, but as soon as they get wise that theboth o' them's bugs over the same girl their relations to'rds each otherbecomes strange. Here's the talk they spill:
"Where do you tend bar?" says Don.
"You got me guessed wrong," says Bill. "I work out to the Yards."
"Got anything on the hip?" says Don.
"You took the words out o' my mouth," says Bill. "I'm drier than St.Petersgrad."
"Stick round a w'ile and maybe we can scare up somethin'," says Don.
"I'll stick all right," says Bill. "They's a Jane in your party that'sknocked me dead."
"What's her name?" says Don.
"Carmen," says Bill, Carmen bein' the girl's name in the show thatGenevieve was takin' that part.
"Carmen!" says Joss. "Get offen that stuff! I and Carmen's just like twopavin' bricks."
"I should worry!" says Bill. "I ain't goin' to run away from norat-eater."
"You're a rat-eater yourself, you rat-eater!" says Don.
"I'll rat-eat you!" says Bill.
And they go to it with a carvin' set, but they couldn't neither one o'them handle their utensils.
Don may of been all right slicin' toadstools for the suey and Billprob'ly could of massacreed a flock o' sheep with one stab, but they wasall up in the air when it come to stickin' each other. They'd of did itbetter with dice.
Pretty soon the other actors can't stand it no longer and they come onyellin' "Fake!" So Don and Bill fold up their razors and Bill invitesthe whole bunch to come out and go through the Yards some mornin' andthen he beats it, and the Michaels girl ain't did nothin' for fifteenminutes, so the management shoots her out for another song and she singsto Don about how he should ought to go home on account of his old ladybein' sick, so he asks Genevieve if she cares if he goes back toJanesville.
"Sure, I care," says Genevieve. "Go ahead!"
So the act winds up with everybody satisfied.
The last act's outside the Yards on the Halsted Street end. Bill's astthe entire company to come in and watch him croak a steer. The sceneopens up with the crowd buyin' perfume and smellin' salts from the guysthat's got the concessions. Pretty soon Eskimo Bill and Carmen drive in,all dressed up like a horse. Don's came in from Wisconsin and is hidin'in the bunch. He's sore at Carmen for not meetin' him on the Elevatedplatform.
He lays low till everybody's went inside, only Carmen. Then he bracesher. He tells her his old lady's died and left him the laundry, and hewants her to go in with him and do the ironin'.
"Not me!" she says.
"What do you mean--'Not me'?" says Don.
"I and Bill's goin' to run a kosher market," she says.
Just about now you can hear noises behind the scenes like the cattle'sgettin' theirs, so Carmen don't want to miss none of it, so she makes abreak for the gate.
"Where you goin'?" says Joss.
"I want to see the butcherin'," she says.
"Stick round and I'll show you how it's done," says Joss.
So he pulls his knife and makes a pass at her, just foolin'. He missesher as far as from here to Des Moines. But she don't know he's kiddin'and she's scared to death. Yes, sir, she topples over as dead as theFederal League.
It was prob'ly her heart.
So now the whole crowd comes dashin' out because they's been a reportthat the place is infested with the hoof and mouth disease. They tellDon about it, but he's all excited over Carmen dyin'. He's delirious andgets himself mixed up with a Irish policeman.
"I yield me prisoner," he says.
Then the house doctor says the curtain's got to come down to prevent theepidemic from spreadin' to the audience. So the show's over and thecompany's quarantined.
* * * * *
Well, Hatch was out all durin' the second act and
part o' the third, andwhen he finally come back he didn't have to tell nobody where he'd been.And he dozed off the minute he hit his seat. I was for lettin' him sleepso's the rest o' the audience'd think we had one o' the op'ra basssingers in our party. But Mrs. Hatch wasn't lookin' for no publicity, onaccount of her costume, so she reached over and prodded him with ahatpin every time he begin a new aria.
Goin' out, I says to him:
"How'd you like it?"
"Pretty good," he says, "only they was too much gin in the last one."
"I mean the op'ra," I says.
"Don't ask him!" says Mrs. Hatch. "He didn't hear half of it and hedidn't understand none of it."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," says I. "Jim here ain't no boob, and theywasn't nothin' hard about it to understand."
"Not if you know the plot," says Mrs. Hatch.
"And somethin' about music," says my Missus.
"And got a little knowledge o' French," says Mrs. Hatch.
"Was that French they was singin'?" says Hatch. "I thought it was Wop orostrich."
"That shows you up," says his Frau.
Well, when we got on the car for home they wasn't only one vacant seatand, o' course, Hatch had to have that. So I and my Missus and Mrs.Hatch clubbed together on the straps and I got a earful o' the realdope.
"What do you think o' Farr'r's costumes?" says Mrs. Hatch.
"Heavenly!" says my Missus. "Specially the one in the second act. It wasall colors o' the rainbow."
"Hatch is right in style then," I says.
"And her actin' is perfect," says Mrs. Hatch.
"Her voice too," says the Wife.
"I liked her actin' better," says Mrs. H. "I thought her voice yodeledin the up-stairs registers."
"What do you suppose killed her?" I says.
"She was stabbed by her lover," says the Missus.
"You wasn't lookin'," I says. "He never touched her. It was prob'lytobacco heart."
"He stabs her in the book," says Mrs. Hatch.
"It never went through the bindin'," I says.
"And wasn't Mooratory grand?" says the Wife.
"Splendid!" says Mrs. Hatch. "His actin' and singin' was both grand."
"I preferred his actin'," I says. "I thought his voice hissed in thedown-stairs radiators."
This give them a good laugh, but they was soon at it again.
"And how sweet Alda was!" my Missus remarks.
"Which was her?" I ast them.
"The good girl," says Mrs. Hatch. "The girl that sung that beautifularia in Atto Three."
"Atto girl!" I says. "I liked her too; the little Michaels girl. Shecame from Janesville."
"She did!" says Mrs. Hatch. "How do you know?"
So I thought I'd kid them along.
"My uncle told me," I says. "He used to be postmaster up there."
"What uncle was that?" says my wife.
"He ain't really my uncle," I says. "We all used to call him our unclejust like all these here singers calls the one o' them Daddy."
"They was a lady in back o' me," says Mrs. Hatch, "that says Daddydidn't appear to-night."
"Prob'ly the Missus' night out," I says.
"How'd you like the Tor'ador?" says Mrs. Hatch.
"I thought she moaned in the chimney," says I.
"It wasn't no 'she'," says the Missus. "We're talkin' about thebull-fighter."
"I didn't see no bull-fight," I says.
"It come off behind the scenes," says the Missus.
"When was you behind the scenes?" I says.
"I wasn't never," says my Missus. "But that's where it's supposed tocome off."
"Well," I says, "you can take it from me that it wasn't pulled. Do youthink the mayor'd stand for that stuff when he won't even leave themstage a box fight? You two girls has got a fine idear o' this hereop'ra!"
"You know all about it, I guess," says the Missus. "You talk French sogood!"
"I talk as much French as you do," I says. "But not nowheres near asmuch English, if you could call it that."
That kept her quiet, but Mrs. Hatch buzzed all the way home, and she wasscared to death that the motorman wouldn't know where she'd beenspendin' the evenin'. And if there was anybody in the car besides methat knowed _Carmen_ it must of been a joke to them hearin' her chatter.It wasn't no joke to me though. Hatch's berth was way off from us andthey didn't nobody suspect him o' bein' in our party. I was standin'right up there with her where people couldn't help seein' that we wastogether.
I didn't want them to think she was my wife. So I kept smilin' at her.And when it finally come time to get off I hollered out loud at Hatchand says:
"All right, Hatch! Here's our street. Your Missus'll keep you awake therest o' the way with her liberetto."
"It can't hurt no more than them hatpins," he says.
Well, when the paper come the next mornin' my Missus had to grab it upand turn right away to the place where the op'ras is wrote up. Under thearticle they was a list o' the ladies and gents in the boxes and whatthey wore, but it didn't say nothin' about what the gents wore, only theladies. Prob'ly the ladies happened to have the most comical costumesthat night, but I bet if the reporters could of saw Hatch they would ofgave him a page to himself.
"Is your name there?" I says to the Missus.
"O' course not," she says. "They wasn't none o' them reporters tallenough to see us. You got to set in a box to be mentioned."
"Well," I says, "you don't care nothin' about bein' mentioned, do you?"
"O' course not," she says; but I could tell from how she said it thatshe wouldn't run down-town and horsewhip the editor if he made a mistakeand printed about she and her costume; her costume wouldn't of et up allthe space he had neither.
"How much does box seats cost?" I ast her.
"About six or seven dollars," she says.
"Well," I says, "let's I and you show Hatch up."
"What do you mean?" she says.
"I mean we should ought to return the compliment," says I. "We shouldought to give them a party right back."
"We'd be broke for six weeks," she says.
"Oh, we'd do it with their money like they done it with ours," I says.
"Yes," she says; "but if you can ever win enough from the Hatches to buyfour box seats to the op'ra I'd rather spend the money on a dress."
"Who said anything about four box seats?" I ast her.
"You did," she says.
"You're delirious!" I says. "Two box seats will be a plenty."
"Who's to set in them?" ast the Missus.
"Who do you think?" I says. "I and you is to set in them."
"But what about the Hatches?" she says.
"They'll set up where they was," says I. "Hatch picked out the seatsbefore, and if he hadn't of wanted that altitude he'd of boughtsomewheres else."
"Yes," says the Missus, "but Mrs. Hatch won't think we're very polite toplant our guests in the Alps and we set down in a box."
"But they won't know where we're settin'," I says. "We'll tell them wecouldn't get four seats together, so for them to set where they was thelast time and we're goin' elsewheres."
"It don't seem fair," says my wife.
"I should worry about bein' fair with Hatch," I says. "If he's ever leftwith more than a dime's worth o' cards you got to look under the tablefor his hand."
"It don't seem fair," says the Missus.
"You should worry!" I says.
So we ast them over the followin' night and it looked for a minute likewe was goin' to clean up. But after that one minute my Missus begancollectin' pitcher cards again and every card Hatch drawed seemed likeit was made to his measure. Well, sir, when we was through the luckystiff was eight dollars to the good and Mrs. Hatch had about broke even.
"Do you suppose you can get them same seats?" I says.
"What seats?" says Hatch.
"For the op'ra," I says.
"You won't get me to no more op'ra," says Hatch. "I don't never go tothe same show twicet."
"It ain't the same show, you goof!" I says. "They change the bill everyday."
"They ain't goin' to change this eight-dollar bill o' mine," he says.
"You're a fine stiff!" I says.
"Call me anything you want to," says Hatch, "as long as you don't goover eight bucks' worth."
"Jim don't enjoy op'ra," says Mrs. Hatch.
"He don't enjoy nothin' that's more than a nickel," I says. "But as longas he's goin' to welsh on us I hope he lavishes the eight-spot whereit'll do him some good."
"I'll do what I want to with it," says Hatch.
"Sure you will!" I says. "You'll bury it. But what you should ought todo is buy two suits o' clo'es."
So I went out in the kitchen and split a pint one way.
But don't think for a minute that I and the Missus ain't goin' to hearno more op'ra just because of a cheap stiff like him welshin'. I don'thave to win in no rummy game before I spend.
We're goin' next Tuesday night, I and the Missus, and we're goin' to setsomewheres near Congress Street. The show's _Armour's Do Re Me_, a newone that's bein' gave for the first time. It's prob'ly named after somesoap.
