“It’s a coffin for somebody,” he said solemnly; and then, as he carefully cremated the cinder in the most glowing portion of the fire, the couple sighed, resumed their places, and sat listening as the voice of Renée singing to Captain Millet once more came down to where they sat.
It was “Ye banks and braes” this time, and when the pathetic old air was ended Salome sighed.
“Ah, poor dear, yes—‘My false lu-huv has plu-ucked the ro-az, and le-heft the the—horn be-hi-hind with me,’” said and sang Salome, in a little piping plaintive voice. “I hope it isn’t for her!”
“It may mean only trouble,” said Vidler, with his head on one side. “I have known coffins pop out of the fire and no one die.”
“Oh dear no,” said Salome. “There’s not a minute passes but someone dies.”
“No,” said Vidler slowly, as if the great problem propounded required much consideration; “but so long as it isn’t anyone here, why, it don’t matter.”
“Quite so much,” said Salome correctively. “Let me see; it was three for a run. I shall beat you this time. You want fourteen.”
“Yes,” said Vidler, chuckling; “but it’s my first show. You want sixteen.”
“Yes,” said Salome, pegging one for a “go,” “but I’ve got hand and crib. Now then.”
“Sixteen,” said Vidler triumphantly, as he threw down his cards and stuck a peg in the winning hole.