"Ain't it?" said Dick good-naturedly. "Well, it's fun, anyway."
He took an unconscionably long time to decide on the trump, clutching his cards tightly, and wrinkling his forehead in imitation of his indignant opponent.
"Oh, do make it something!" Mrs. Pickens urged him.
"Very well, hearts!" cried Dick, "Hearts, the best suit in the pack."
He broke into exaggerated praise of the quite ordinary hand Hertha spread out for him. He loved the careful way in which she put each card in sequence.
"The King of my suit!" he cried. "Didn't I know you had it! Saw it with my poker eye. Ever play poker, Miss Hertha?"
He had asked the question before, and she did not trouble to answer him. Not that he cared whether he was answered or not. He felt elated at his day and at the evening that was bringing him such good fortune.
Talking steadily as he threw down his cards, he won a finesse, for by this time Miss Wood had lost all track of the game.
"What did I tell you?" he cried to Hertha boisterously. "This is the time we're going under and over both. Just you wait. Count the tricks! One, two, three, four, five, six—only four more and the rubber's ours. Watch me now! Just watch yours truly haul in the goods. Watch me——"
"Oh, stop talking, Dick," said Mrs. Pickens good-humoredly, "and play."