"What do you know about cards, John?" asked Mrs. Pedagog, severely.
The Idiot laughed.
"Did you ever hear that pretty little song of Gilbert and Sullivan's, Mr. Poet, 'Things are seldom what they seem'?" he asked.
"Why shouldn't I know about playing-cards?" said Mr. Pedagog, acridly. "Mr. Whitechoker seems to be aware that a pack holds fifty-two cards—if he, why not I?"
"I—ah—I of course have to acquaint myself with many vicious things with which I have very little sympathy," observed Mr. Whitechoker, blandly. "I regard cards as an abomination."
"So do I," said Mr. Pedagog—"so do I. But even then I know a full house—I should say a full pack from a—er—a—er—"
"Bob-tail flush," suggested the Idiot.
"Sir," said Mr. Pedagog, "I am not well up in poker terms."
"Then you ought to play," said the Idiot. "The man who doesn't know the game has usually great luck. But I am sorry, Mrs. Pedagog, that you are so strongly opposed to cards, for I was going to make a suggestion which I think would promote harmony in our little circle on waffle days. If you regard cards as wholly immoral, of course the suggestion is without value, since it involves two complete packs of cards—one cardboard pack and one waffle pack."
"I don't object to cards as cards, Mr. Idiot," said the landlady. "It is the games people play with cards that I object to. They bring a great deal of unnecessary misery into the world, and for that reason I think it is better to avoid them altogether."