the other conspirators were acting in much the same manner he was able to hold his own. Hemstead looked grave, as cards were brought out, but without remark he sat down with his aunt at a table on the opposite side of the hearth. Lottie perched on a chair a little back of them, so that while she saw their side faces they must turn somewhat to see her. When they did so she was quietly stitching at her fancy-work, but the rest of the time was telegraphing with her brilliant eyes all sorts of funny messages to the party opposite, so that they were in a state of perpetual giggle, not in keeping with whist. Mr. Dimmerly soon bustled in, and, looking wistfully at the game in progress, was about to propose that they form one likewise at their table, for an evening without cards was to him a mild form of purgatory. But Lottie anticipated him. Giving a signal to the others and drawing down her face to portentous length, she said to Hemstead, "I fear you do not approve of cards." "You are correct, Miss Marsden," he replied, stiffly. As he turned away, she glanced at the card-players with a look of horror, as if they were committing sacrilege, and Harcourt had to improvise another poor joke to account for their increasing merriment. But Mr. Dimmerly looked at his nephew in dismay and some irritation. "What under heaven can I now do, this long evening," he thought, "but gape and talk theology?" But Lottie, in the purpose to draw out and quiz her victim, continued: "Really, Mr. Hemstead, you surprise me. Cards are the staple amusement of a quiet evening in New York. I fear I have been doing wrong all my life without knowing it." "If you did not know you were wrong, you were not very guilty," he replied, smiling. "Yes, but now I do know, or at least from one who will be an authority on such matters--pardon me--who is one now, I am assured that this old custom is wrong. In questions of right and wrong, I suppose a minister should guide." "No, Miss Marsden, that is not Protestantism. Your conscience, instructed by the Bible, should guide." "But I see no more harm in whist than in a sleigh-ride." "Perhaps your conscience needs instruction." "O, certainly, that is it! Please instruct it." He turned quickly, but saw a face serious enough for an anxious seat in an old-time revival. "Yes," said Mr. Dimmerly, testily. "My conscience needs instruction also. What harm is there in a quiet game of whist?" "Well, I do not know that there is anything wrong in a 'quiet game of cards,' per se" commenced Hemstead, didactically. "'Per' who?" asked Lottie, innocently. Just then the party at the other table seemed to explode, but they made it appear as if the cause came from themselves. "Yes, yes, nephew, speak English. You may find some reasons in Latin, but none in English, the only language of sound sense."