Mr. Galloway was in chat with his kinsman, Mr. Chew. The younger women, in a group, were making themselves merry with my friend Jack, who was a bit awkward in a fine suit I had plagued him into buying. And what a beauty he was, as he stood, half pleased with the teasing, blushing now and then, and fencing prettily in talk, as I knew by the laughter! At the tables the elder women were gambling and intent on their little gains and losses, while the vast play of a nobler game was going on in the greater world of men.
To my surprise, I saw among the guests an English lieutenant. I say “to my surprise,” for the other officers had gone of their own accord, or had been ordered to leave by the Committee of Safety. This one, and another, were, as I learned afterward, on their way through the town to join General Gage. There was evidently some dispute as to the cards. I heard high-pitched voices, and “spadille,” “basto,” “matador”—all the queer words of quadrille, their favoured game.
The lieutenant was bending over Mrs. Perguson’s chair. He was a fellow I had seen before and never liked, a vulgar-featured man, too fat for his years, which may have been some twenty-eight. He played the best hand of all of them, and, as my aunt declared, that was quite enough; for the rest she could keep any man in order. I held back in the gloom of the hall, looking at their busy gaiety, and wondering what they would say to my news.
As I went in I heard Woodville, the lieutenant, say, “The king—play the king, Mrs. Ferguson.”
“No advice!” cried Mrs. Galloway.
“But I am betting,” said he. “The king forever! We have won, madam. The king is always in luck.”
I could not resist saying, “The king has lost, ladies.”
My aunt turned, and knew I meant something. I suppose my face may have been more grave than my words. “What is it, Hugh?”
“I have strange news, Aunt Gainor.”
“News? and what?” As she spoke the talk ceased, and every one looked up.