mance, he whistled painfully.

His lordship regarded his guest with annoyance.

"That looks frightfully exciting," he said, disparagingly. "What are
you playing at? Patience?"

Hargate nodded again, this time without looking up.

"Oh, don't sit there looking like a frog," said Lord Dreever,
irritably. "Talk, man."

Hargate gathered up the cards, and proceeded to shuffle them in a
meditative manner, whistling the while.

"Oh, stop it!" said his lordship.

Hargate nodded, and obediently put down the deck.

"Look here." said Lord Dreever, "this is boring me stiff. Let's have
a game of something. Anything to pass away the time. Curse this
rain! We shall be cooped up here till dinner at this rate. Ever
played picquet? I could teach it you in five minutes."

A look almost of awe came into Hargate's face, the look of one who
sees a miracle performed before his eyes. For years, he had been
using all the large stock of diplomacy at his command to induce
callow youths to play picquet with him, and here was this--admirable
young man, this pearl among young men, positively offering to teach
him the game. It was too much happiness. What had he done to deserve
this? He felt as a toil-worn lion might feel if some antelope,
instead of making its customary bee-line for the horizon, were to
trot up and insert its head between his jaws.

"I--I shouldn't mind being shown the idea," he said.

He listened attentively while Lord Dreever explained at some length
the principles that govern the game of picquet. Every now and then,
he asked a question. It was evident that he was beginning to grasp
the idea of the game.

"What exactly is re-piquing?" he asked, as his, lordship paused.

"It's like this," said his lordship, returning to his lecture.

"Yes, I see now," said the neophyte.

They began playing. Lord Dreever, as was only to be expected in a
contest between teacher and student, won the first two hands.
Hargate won the next.

"I've got the hang of it all right now," he said, complacently.
"It's a simple sort of game. Make it more exciting, don't you think,
if we played for something?"

"All right," said Lord Dreever slowly, "if you like."

He would not have suggested it himself, but, after all, dash it, if
the man really asked for it--It was not his fault if the winning of
a hand should have given the fellow the impression that he knew all
there was to be known about picquet. Of course, picquet was a game
where skil