'Well, you are a sniggler, Madge,' said her brother, becoming very angry. 'You play for not a single thing but the cushion. I didn't think you cared so much for twopence-halfpenny in coppers.' 'How can I play out when you follow?' said Madge; but even that flattery of his skill was unavailing. 'Wait a bit,' said he; 'I'll catch you. You can't always sniggle successfully. Even Roberts himself--I beg your pardon Mr. Roberts, it was the other Roberts I meant--couldn't always get under the cushion. Wait a bit.' There was no doubt that Madge was a most provoking and persistent sniggler. She would play for nothing, and the consequence was that Frank King, to his own intense astonishment, found himself possessed of his original three lives, while everybody else's lives were slowly dwindling down. She played with such judgment, indeed, that Mr. Tom at length got seriously angry, and began to hit wildly at the green ball in the savage hope of fluking it, the inevitable result being that he ran in himself twice, and departed from the game, and from the room too, saying he was going to smoke a cigar. Then these four diverged into various varieties of the game, in all of which Madge was Frank King's champion and instructress; and he was very grateful to her, and tried to do his best, though he was chiefly engaged in thinking that her clear blue-gray eyes were so singularly like Nan's eyes. Indeed, Madge had now to put forth all her skill, for he and she were playing partners against the other two, and it was but little help she got from him. 'I am very sorry,' he said to her, after making a fearfully bad shot. 'I ought to apologise.' 'At all events, don't always leave the red ball over a pocket,' she said, sharply; but that may have been less temper than an evidence that she was really in earnest about the game. Moreover, they came out victors after all, and she was greatly pleased; and she modestly disclaimed what he said about her having done all the scoring, and said she thought he played very well considering how few opportunities he must have had of practising. As she said so--looking frankly towards him--he thought that was just the way Nan would have spoken. The pleasant and refined expression of the mouth was just the same, and there was the same careless grace of the fair hair that escaped from its bonds in fascinating tangles. He thought her face was a little less freckled than Nan's--perhaps she did not brave the sunlight and the sea air so much. The evening passed with a wonderful rapidity; when Mr. Tom came back again into the room, followed by a servant bringing seltzer-water and things, they found it was nearly eleven. 'I must bid your mamma good-night and be off,' said Frank King to Madge. 'Oh,' she said, 'it is unnecessary; mamma goes to her room early. She will make her excuses to you to-morrow.' In an instant the pale, pretty face had flushed up.