A Book o' Nine Tales.

by Arlo Bates

Mrs. V. Well, never mind. Let me draw one. That will do just as well.

Mr. T. Diamonds? Can’t you draw again? I haven’t—

Miss V. I don’t think it was diamonds. I am almost sure it was spades.

Mrs. V. No, diamonds suits me, and of course you can’t change it now; can she, Colonel Graham?

Colonel G. It isn’t customary, I believe, unless we are to play Auction Pitch, and bid for the trump.

Miss V. Oh, now you are going to be sarcastic! I don’t think that’s fair.

Mrs. V. Do you put your trumps at one end of your hand, Colonel Graham?

Colonel G. No, I do not, but some people find it a convenience.

Mr. T. Is it my lead?