Being again assured of safety, he went on: “Well, my son, I’ll tell you ’bout this yer thing. Has you got any boys in yer employ? No. Got two girls have you? One of dem girls is light-haired and de other is dark—the light one is de one who comes in your room in your boarding-house every morning when you’se gone away—’cause you lives in a boardin’ house, I sees that—can see it in the cards, can always tell razackly. If you make a fuss about dat article you make your landlady feel bad. You has accused somebody of taking that article, but you ’cused de wrong person. The light-haired girl is who’s got that article. Can’t help it, my son, must tell you—de light-haired girl is de person. Mebbe she’s put it back, my son, I’ll see.”
Here he cut the cards carefully, and continued:
“There’s trouble ’bout dat article, my son, can’t help it, must tell you—but you’ll get the article, but you’ll have disappointment. Whenever you see dat card you may know there’s disappointment comin’—dat card is always disappointment—can’t help it, my son, must tell you.” Here he exhibited the nine of spades, to the malignant influence of which he attributed the future woes of his hearer.
“When you go home look in your bed between the mattresses and see if the article is there, for mebbe she’ll put it back—if it aint there you must go to her and ’cuse her of it, ’cause it’s in the house and she’s got it—can’t help it, my son, must tell you.”
It is perhaps needless to say that the customer had met with no loss of property, and that all this was entirely gratuitous on the part of Mr. Grommer. Having, however, settled the matter to his satisfaction, that gentleman turned his attention to other things, and in the intervals of repeated shufflings and cuttings of the cards he said:
“Dere is a journey for you soon—and dis journey is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you—but dere is a little disappointment first—can’t help it, my son, must tell—here you can see for yourself,” and out came the malicious nine of spades again. “You will get money from beyond sea, my son—lots of money, lots of money, my son—here it is, you can see for yourself,” and he exhibited the cheerful faces of the eight, nine, and ten of diamonds. “You will have disappointment before you get this money,” and up came the hateful visage of the nine of spades once more. “You was born under a good star, my son—under a morning star—you was born under the planet Jupiter, my son, at 28 minutes past four in the morning—lucky star, my son, very lucky star. You are going to make a great change in your business, my son, which will be good; you will always be successful in business, but I think there is a little disappointment first; can’t help it, must tell you.” Here the listener looked for the nine of spades again, but it didn’t come. “After a little while you turns your back on trouble; here, you can see for yourself—see, this is you.”
The king of clubs was the Individual at that instant, and the troubles upon which he turned his back are, as nearly as he can remember, the knave of clubs, the nine of spades, and the deuce of diamonds.
The sage went on. “I’m comin’ now to your marriage. You’se goin’ to be married, but you’ll have some disappointment first—can’t help it, my son, must tell you. You see, here is a dark-complected lady that you like, and she has a heart for you, but her father don’t like you—he prefers a young man of lighter complexion—see, here you all are, my son. This is you,” and he showed the king of clubs—“and this is her.” The “her” of whom he spoke so irreverently, was the queen of clubs. “This is the heart she has for you,” and he exhibited the seven of that amorous suit. “This is her father”—the obstinate and cruel “parient” here displayed, was the king of spades—“and dis yer is de young man her father likes,” and he placed before the eyes of the customer a hated rival in the shape of the knave of diamonds. “You see how it is, my son, dere is trouble between you—can’t help it. You may possibly marry de dark-complected lady yet, but don’t you do it, my son, don’t you do it—now mind I tell you, don’t you do it—she is not the lady for you—can’t help it, must tell you; if you marry dat lady you will be sorry dat you ever tie de knot. See, here is the knot,” and he showed the ace of diamonds. “See, this is the lady you ought to marry,” and he produced the queen of diamonds; “and she will be your second wife if you do marry de dark-complected lady, but you’d better marry her first if you can get her, and let de dark-complected lady go for ebber; dat’s so, my son, now mind I tell you.”
He condescended no more, and the Cash Customer disbursed his dollar and departed, all the grandchildren gathering on the bank to give him three cheers as a parting salute.