“They went over to some town thirty or forty miles away, yesterday, and haven’t got back,” I replied.
“I tell you, that girl knows how to circumvent these stupid Sundays, don’t she, though? And she takes old Dives along wherever she wants to go. I believe she would take him where the other Dives went, if she was disposed to take a trip there herself. But, holy Jerusalem! what are we to do to get through the rest of the day. No company, no billiards, no fishing. Confound the prejudices of society. I tell you, it is just such women as that mother-in-law of yours that keep society intimidated, as it were, into artificial proprieties. Now where’s the harm of a pleasant game on a Sunday, more than sitting here and grumbling and cursing because there’s nothing to do?”
I made no reply, and Fred lighted another cigar. He was evidently thinking of something. “Look here, old fellow,” he said at length in an undertone, something very unusual with him, “come up to my room. You haven’t seen it. Lib won’t be back till teatime, and perhaps we can find something to amuse ourselves.”
He led the way and I followed, thinking no harm. His room was up stairs and on the back of the house, looking up the great hill that stretched back to the clouds. As we entered, I found he had brought a good many things with him, and given the room much the air of the quarters of a bachelor in the city. His sleeping-room was separate from that, and formed a sort of boudoir for his wife. He motioned me to an easy-chair, set a box of fine cigars on the table, and going to the closet brought out a decanter of sherry and some glasses.
“In these cursed places, you can get nothing to drink,” he said, “unless on the sly, and I hate that; so I bring along my own beverages, you see.”
I saw and tasted, and found it very good. He was still fumbling about the closet, with profane ejaculations, and finally emerged with something in his hand that I at first took for a small book. But he unblushingly put on the table that pasteboard volume sometimes called the Devil’s Bible. “Come,” he said, “where’s the harm? Let us have a quiet game of Casino or California Jack, or something else. It is better than perishing of stupidity.”
I demurred. I was not over-scrupulous, but I had sufficient of my early breeding left to have a qualm of conscience at the thought of playing cards on Sunday.
“Oh, nonsense!” said Fred, carelessly, as he proceeded to deal the cards for Casino. “There, you have an ace and little Casino right before you. Go ahead, old man!”
I made a feeble show of protesting, but took up my cards, and, finding that I could capture the ace and little Casino, took them. From that the play went on; I became quite absorbed, and dismissed my scruples, when, as the sun was getting low, a shadow passed the window.
“Great Jupiter!” I exclaimed, looking up. “Does that second-story piazza go all the way round here?”