Now that God has taken care of the Crooked Springs, Indiana dance hall it’s up to the town’s ladies to do something about the infernal card parlor.
“Lulu, your phone’s ringin’ off the hook off in the kitchen,” Margaret Owens interrupted. “Ain’tcha gonna answer it?”
“I reckon so,” Lulu sighed, hoisting her rather hefty bulk from the easy chair, “but I’m skeert I know who it is.”
With the hostess out of earshot Jenny Winslow whispered loud enough for the others to hear, ”I wonder how much she paid those county fair judges to win a blue ribbon for this batch of peach preserves.”
“Hee, hee,” giggled Minnie, the fire chief’s wife. “I was thinking the same thing. Not near enough sugar…and these biscuits…where on earth did she find that recipe…at the feed store?”
That brought laughter throughout the living room which quickly died down as Lulu returned. “Just as I thought. It was my youngest daughter up in the city. Her man got fired ag’in for drinkin’ on the job.” She was wringing her hands and about to cry. “She wants to bring the baby and come back home but I told her, sweetheart, yore daddy ain’t havin’ any of it. He done tol’ you he ain’t raisin’ no more young’uns in this household.”
There was a moment of commisserating before Helen tapped her teaspoon gavel on a coffee cup. “Let’s
bring this here meetin’ back to order and see what we can do about the dang card parlor.”
Jennifer Allgood was the youngest member of the Friendly Circle Club, unmarried, cuter than a speckled pup and attending junior college in the next door county. She had sat quietly throughout the meeting until now. ‘You ladies have stronger feelings about the card parlor than I but since I am a member of this organization I feel it is my duty to be of some value.”
Seventeen older women looked at Jennifer as if she had farted.
“Ladies, I have a foolproof plan.”
To be continued.
Uh-oh! Not sure who to be worried about–the menfolk’s and their card game, or how all this is gonna come back on the ladies social circle. 
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