Lansdowne Crescent: Chapter 9
Jean Day gives an idea of the imaginative family entertainments of a century ago.
To read earlier chapters of Jean’s account of neighbours living in Worcester at the beginning of the Twentieth Century please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/lansdowne_crescent/
We thoroughly enjoyed Charlie’s home-coming for the holidays from college, and now from his school, and great are the games we have during the long summer days in the garden, and in the winter evenings either intellectual games such as ‘the poetry game’ or ‘telegrams.’ Charlie and Pete are very amusing in their productions at these games, Charlie especially shining at topical allusions. He has, by the way, a keen sense of humour, and wrote one or two quite funny things.
The following skit on bridge he wrote when at college, and presented it to mother last Christmas with the following rhyme:
*
A little sketch before you I would bring,
For which no doubt my praises you will sing,
It tells of just a simple game of bridge.
No doubt papa will chant it clear and loud
When round the Christmas fire we all crowd
To listen to this noble work start.
And old and young, the tender and the tough,
Should profit from the lesson of this muff,
And follow my example, clever me,
Your loving son and brother, Charles James Tree.
‘THE ELEVEN RULE’
It was all Matilda's fault.
Not until we were already speeding on our way to dine with Mrs. C. did she tell me that I should be expected to play bridge afterwards. This was a ghastly thought; my head reeled as I strove to recall the golden rules of the game.
‘Whatever you do, don't forget the Eleven Rule,’ Matilda warned me as we pulled up at the door.
‘The Eleven Rule,’ I murmured helplessly.
‘Yes, lead the fourth highest of your longest suit. You mustn't forget that.’
After dinner the worst happened.
‘You both play auction, of course?’ said Mrs. C. brightly.
My moral courage deserted me. I nodded a silent lie, Mrs. C. was my partner.
‘Do you echo?’ she inquired carelessly.
‘Echo?’ I said, unconsciously answering in the affirmative.
‘Yes, you echo, don't you?’
‘Well, no, as a matter of fact I generally revoke-at least-that is-I-let me see-it's your deal, isn't it, Matilda?’
Matilda dealt and briefly diagnosed her hand.
‘One heart,’ she announced.
By a curious chance I also had one heart. This seemed a heaven-sent opportunity of pleasing Mrs. C.
‘One heart,’ I echoed.
‘Not enough,’ said Frederick tersely.
‘Well, that's not my fault,’ I replied. ‘I didn't deal the things.’ I felt I had put my case strongly.
‘I 'm afraid you must go two hearts,’ said Mrs. C.
‘Two hearts,’ I said - they seemed to expect it.
‘Double,’ said Frederick promptly. At the card table he is a man of few words.
‘That's four,’ I said with a rapid effort. After all I wasn't getting on so badly.
But I cannot give a detailed account of that night¬mare. Let me say at once that after an hour's agony Mrs. C. and myself were 1800 to the bad.
It was my turn to deal. I had an inspiration - the Eleven Rule! I had forgotten all about it. Never mind, I'd show them now! Confidently I picked up my cards. My hand did not seem very strong. But Matilda's words rang in my ears, and I took courage. ‘The fourth highest of your longest suit.’ My suit was hearts, four of them, l0, 9, 8, 7. ‘Seven hearts,’ I said in clear, bell-like tones.
‘Double,’ said Frederick briefly.
Mrs. C. does not speak to me now. But as I said, it was all Matilda's fault.
*
Charlie had at one period discussed the question of reading for the Bar, but eventually he decided in favour of education, and last September after he came down from Cambridge, he took a post at a large preparatory school at East Grinstead in Sussex. He finds this work very congenial, and evidently quickly won the affection of his boys.
