“Very well,” replied George, “you owe me” (and he named a considerable sum). “I’ll play you one game double or quits.”
The tailor pondered for some moments, and then replied:
“Look here, Captain Hay, I have a wife and four children, and I can’t afford to go ‘sudden death,’ but I’ll play you the best out of three, double or quits.”
Failing to catch the subtlety of this logic, George consented, and the result was again against the tailor.
“Now,” said this noble punter, “I’ve complied with all your requests. Nature won’t permit me to continue, but I’ll tell you what I will do,” and ringing the bell, he ordered the waiter to bring in the list of members.
Scanning the names and counting the number, he again addressed the tailor:
“Look here. We have, I see, fifty-four members; but old Crutchley and the Chaplain needn’t count. You shall make every member of the club a black velvet knickerbocker suit with scarlet hose, and a cap, and henceforth we are quits.”
Prudes and strict sticklers for propriety may argue that the man was a gambler, and consequently heartless and good for nothing; but after events proved that although dire calamity overtook him, he was of a noble, generous nature.
Despite the above incident, the Pindee Club played a very strict game, and every member before sitting down carefully adjusted a pair of green spectacles.