“GOOD DAY, FRIEND,” SAID PEACE, TO THE HOST OF THE “CARVED LION.”
Peace had by this time become familiar and on friendly terms with many of those who were assembled in the skittle-ground. The young fellow who had been playing when we first made the acquaintance of this establishment, asked Peace to have a game.
“Don’t ’ee play wi’ him, master,” said Nelly; “he be’s too much for any on ’em here, and ye won’t ha’ much chance wi’ him unless you are a good hand at the game.”
“I’m not much of a player,” returned Peace, “but what matters that? We are only going to play for amusement or for a mug of beer. It don’t much matter who wins or loses.”
“Please yourself, then—it aint any business of mine.”
“Let ’em alone, Nell—there arnt no skittle sharpers here,” said a man at one of the tables. “Let ’em be, lass.”
Nell shrugged her shoulders, and sat herself down on one of the forms.
The players went to work in good earnest. Peace succeeded in knocking all the pins down at one go.
This exploit was greeted with loud bravos.
His antagonist, however, was equally successful, and the game resulted in a draw. Another game was played; this Peace lost.