He took an unconscionably long time to decide on the trump, clutching his cards tightly, and wrinkling his forehead in imitation of his indignant opponent. "Oh, do make it something!" Mrs. Pickens urged him. "Very well, hearts!" cried Dick, "Hearts, the best suit in the pack." He broke into exaggerated praise of the quite ordinary hand Hertha spread out for him. He loved the careful way in which she put each card in sequence. "The King of my suit!" he cried. "Didn't I know you had it! Saw it with my poker eye. Ever play poker, Miss Hertha?" He had asked the question before, and she did not trouble to answer him. Not that he cared whether he was answered or not. He felt elated at his day and at the evening that was bringing him such good fortune. Talking steadily as he threw down his cards, he won a finesse, for by this time Miss Wood had lost all track of the game. "What did I tell you?" he cried to Hertha boisterously. "This is the time we're going under and over both. Just you wait. Count the tricks! One, two, three, four, five, six--only four more and the rubber's ours. Watch me now! Just watch yours truly haul in the goods. Watch me----" "Oh, stop talking, Dick," said Mrs. Pickens good-humoredly, "and play." She was very fond of this southern lad, her one man boarder, and was quite ready herself to frolic. But, seeing the thundercloud on her partner's face, she endeavored to bring some seriousness into the occasion. "Well, here goes!" cried the young man. "My trump card!" and he flung down the ace of hearts. The deuce, tray and four spot fell upon it. "One, two, three, four!" he called out. "Kiss the dealer!" Leaning far over the table, his lips came within an inch of Hertha's own. She drew back, blushing crimson, her body stiff with antagonism. Mrs. Pickens, to relieve the situation, put her arm around the youth's neck and, drawing down his head, gave him the asked-for kiss. But she could not resist murmuring, "A poor substitute." "Three tricks more," Dick called, and dashed through the hand. He won the game and the rubber, but he had reduced his partner to a state of frigidity excelling even Miss Wood's. "We won't play any more," she said to that lady, "I know you are tired at our noise." And with a general good-night she went out of the room, leaving the box of candy behind her. Miss Wood added the score conscientiously, pronounced her partner and herself the winners, professed indignation at Dick's offer to pay anything he might owe, and, accompanied by Mrs. Pickens, left the young man to himself.