Whist!

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Mrs. Henry Blink decides to give a whist party and does so. The guests arrive and are soon occupied in this most profound sport. Suddenly from across the courtway comes the crashing, ear-splitting crescendos from Schopheimer or somebody's melody in G flat. It happens to be Professor Porfiro, an earnest student of the piano, polishing up the ivories. The first strains bring groans from the whist players, and all agree that the pianist across the hall is a nuisance. Blink resolves to put a stop to it, and arming himself with a few choice Havanas steps around the corridor to the professor's room. The others across the court watch with interest the animated discussion and sigh relievedly when the musician accepts the weeds, lights one and settles down with his back to the piano. Silence reigns again and the game has progressed to where Blink is about to sweep the board clear when, horror of horrors, a sound like the wailing of a lost soul drags itself out on the night air! Blink again rises and again goes to reconnoiter. He locates the clatter at last, which comes from the trombone of Willie Wilts, another occupant across the court. In much the same manner Willie is silenced, and the whist players to on with their game. There are other repetitions of musical interruptions when Fritz Spielhouser, a clarinetist, and lastly Sandy McPherson, a short stout Scotchman, starts the "Blue Bells of Scotland" on their squeaky instruments. Sandy absolutely refuses to lay aside his beloved Instrument for the cigars and indicates that he prefers his pipe. Blink scratches his head and tells Sandy he'll be back with something he may like. In a short time he returns with a bottle of Scotch whiskey, and Sandy's eyes light. In a short time, with a glass between them, they have become most agreeable, while Blink, under the warming influence of the Scotch, has quite forgotten his social duties. Blink finally suggests that they find the other musicians and organize an orchestra. This is effected, and the whist players, who have despaired of Blink ever returning, and who have returned to their cards, are suddenly startled by the blaring of brass, the thrumming of stringed instruments and the squeaking of reeds and wind pipes. The catastrophe comes when Mrs. Blink, suspicious of what may have happened to her spouse, hurries with resolute step to the apartment of Professor Porfiro. Her suspicions are confirmed, Blink is not under the table, but on it, with a glass of Scotch in one hand, the bottle in the other, and an "Ip-i-yaddy-i-ay" on his lips. A description of her treatment of Blink will be reserved until you see the film.