“Play, man, play, if you never played before!” cried Rasmus.
“That’s too costly,” whimpered Salmand, taking his turn.
“Then I’ll put on my seven and another seven,” said Jens.
Sören turned the trick.
“And then nine of trumps,” Jens went on, leading.
“Then I’ll have to bring on my yellow nag,” cried Salmand, playing two of hearts.
“You’ll never stable it,” laughed Sören, covering with four of spades.
“Forfeit!” roared Rasmus Squint, throwing down his cards. “Forfeit with two of hearts, that’s a good day’s work! Nay, nay, ’tis a good thing we’re not goin’ to play any more. Now let them kiss the cards that have won.”
They began to count the tricks, and while they were busy with this, a stout, opulently dressed man came in. He went at once to the folding-table, let it down, and took a seat nearest the wall. As he passed the players, he touched his hat with his silver-knobbed cane, and said: “Good even to the house!”
“Thanks,” they replied, and all four spat.