e he has not
a single other chance of a trick in his hand).--"Really, Squire, we had
better give up playing if you put out my partner in this extraordinary
way,--jabber, jabber, jabber!"

SQUIRE.--"Well, we must be good children, Harry. What!--trumps, Barney?
Thank ye for that!" And the squire might well be grateful, for the
unfortunate adversary has led up to ace king knave, with two other
trumps. Squire takes the parson's ten with his knave, and plays out ace
king; then, having cleared all the trumps except the captain's queen
and his own remaining two, leads off tierce major in that very suit of
spades of which the parson has only one,--and the captain, indeed, but
two,--forces out the captain's queen, and wins the game in a canter.

PARSON (with a look at the captain which might have become the awful
brows of Jove, when about to thunder).--"That, I suppose, is the
new-fashioned London play! In my time the rule was, 'First save the
game, then try to win it.'"

CAPTAIN.--"Could not save it, sir."

PARSON (exploding)--"Not save it!--two ruffs in my own hand,--two tricks
certain till you took them out! Monstrous! The rashest trump."--Seizes
the cards, spreads them on the table, lip quivering, hands trembling,
tries to show how five tricks could have been gained,--N.B. It is short
whist which Captain Barnabas had introduced at the Hall,--can't make out
more than four; Captain smiles triumphantly; Parson in a passion, and
not at all convinced, mixes all the cards together again, and falling
back in his chair, groans, with tears in his voice.--"The cruellest
trump! the most wanton cruelty!"

The Hazeldeans in chorus.--"Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha!" The captain, who
does not laugh this time, and whose turn it is to deal, shuffles the
cards for the conquering game of the rubber with as much caution and
prolixity as Fabius might have employed in posting his men. The
squire gets up to stretch his legs, and, the insinuation against his
hospitality recurring to his thoughts, calls out to his wife, "Write to
Rickeybockey to-morrow yourself, Harry, and ask him to come and spend
two or three days here. There, Mrs. Dale, you hear me?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Dale, putting her hands to her ears in implied rebuke
at the loudness of the squire's tone. "My dear sir, do remember that I'm
a sad nervous creature."

"Beg pardon," muttered Mr. Hazeldean, turning to his son, who having
got tired of the caricatures, had fished out for himself the