alt.

"They don't know one card from another over at Deacon Smith's," observed
Sarah, sorting her hand. "I never knew such stupid people."

"What is that,--a knave or a king?" inquired Lizzie, holding up one of
her cards.

"Don't you know better than to show your hand?" cried James, who was her
partner. "It's a knave, of course. The king has no legs."

"You needn't be so cross about it!" murmured Lizzie.

"If you don't know how to play," retorted her brother, "you'd better let
Hepsy take your place."

"Children!" cried Mrs. Royden, "if you can't get along without
quarreling, I will burn every card I find in the house. Now, do you mark
my word!"

To keep peace, Chester proposed to take Lizzie for his partner; a new
hand was dealt, and the play went on.

"I wish," said Mrs. Royden, as her husband entered the room, "I wish you
would make the children give up their whist for this evening."

But Mr. Royden liked to have his family enjoy themselves; and, as long
as cards kept them good-natured, he was glad to see them play. He sat
down by the side-table, opened a fresh newspaper he had brought from the
village, adjusted his glasses on his nose, and began to read.

IV.

THE OLD CLERGYMAN.

In a little while, Hepsy came in from the kitchen, having finished her
work, and, timidly drawing a chair near the whist-table, sat down to
watch the game.

"I don't want Hepsy looking over my shoulder!" exclaimed Lizzie, with an
expression of disgust.

"If you would let her tell you a little about the game, you would get
along full as well," observed James, sarcastically.

"I don't want _her_ to tell me!"

"Hepsy," spoke up Mrs. Royden, "why don't you take your sewing? You
won't do any good there."

"Do let her look on, if it interests her," said Mr. Royden, impatiently
putting down his paper, and lifting his glasses. "Don't keep her at work
all the time."

But Hepsy, the moment Lizzie spoke, had shrank away from the table, with
an expression of intense pain on her unattractive face.

"Come here, Hepsy," said Chester, drawing a chair for her to his side;
"you may look over my shoulder. Come!"

The girl hesitated, while the big tears gathered in her eyes; but he
extended his hand, and, taking hers, made her sit down. After he had
played his card, he laid his arm familiarly across the back of her
chair. Her face burned, and seemed to dry up the tears which had
glistened, but did not fall.

Mr. Royden took