"Put the other back!" rapped out Gran'pa. "You're disqualified, sir." "It was an accident!" protested the old man. "They stuck to my fingers, and . . ." "Put it back!" roared Gran'pa. "I'm here to see fair play and I'll get it! . . . Oh, no, you don't. You've had your draw. We can't allow two goes. . . . Move along, please!" Flushed with shame, and still mumbling and protesting, he stepped back from the queue and the proceedings were resumed. When they were finished, Gran'pa looked into the hat, uttered an exclamation of astonishment, and said:-- "Owing to the little lapse from propriety which you witnessed a moment ago, there is a bean left over, gentlemen. Those of you who have drawn the red will be agreeably surprised to hear that the remaining one is white! I therefore suggest that the losers all place their red beans in the hat and try their luck again." Everyone cheered (with the exception of the unfortunate individual who was the cause of this fresh lease of hope) and the supplementary draw opened amidst great enthusiasm and excitement. When it was presently discovered that the first fifty-six (out of the fifty-eight losers) had all drawn reds, the tension became so great that the remaining two old men were compelled to sit down for a few moments. They were so exhausted with emotion that Dr. Martin was afraid they might collapse. "Come along!" he said. "You _must_ get this over at once!" "Toss for it!" cried Gran'pa. "That is the fairest!" So they tossed--and the man who called "Tails!" won. "I . . . I always . . . say 'Heads!'" he half sobbed. "But this time . . ." Then he fainted! A bottle of smelling salts, however, and about a quarter of a bottle of brandy worked wonders, and the moment he regained consciousness the loser shook his hand and even congratulated him. More astonishing still, all the happy possessors of the white beans were the centre of an admiring and cheerful crowd of well-wishers, none of whom showed the least signs of jealousy or resentment. "Bravo!" cried Gran'pa. "You're real sportsmen, gentlemen--every one of you! I withdraw the rash statement I made a few minutes ago, and ask your pardon." He got it--in the form of more cheers. We were beginning to congratulate ourselves on this happy and unexpected termination, when a little bald-headed man of eighty or ninety summers emitted a high-pitched wail of dismay. "My bean!" he cried. "Somebody's stolen it! . . . Stop thief! . . . _Ah-h!_" He uttered the last syllable triumphantly, having grabbed the supposed miscreant by the coat collar. There was a short scuffle, in which some half-dozen other old men took part and a yell of pain from the victim as someone bent back his clenched fist. Instead of a white bean, however, a red one fell from his open palm--a complete vindication of his innocence, which drove the loser of the bean to frenzy. "I've been robbed!" he shouted hysterically. "It is shameful! Where is the blackguard?"