"I'm hagreeable for hanythink," remarked Honey, amiably.
"What do you say to a quiet game of 'draw'?" suggested Wildfen.
The idea suited Rutherford; Honey knew a little about the game and liked it; and Plowden, though he had some doubt about his ability to play it, upon learning that it was not in the least like whist said he would try. So Sam, when he came in with another load of fire-wood, was despatched to capture a pack of cards from his master's room and a box of gun-wads from the closet where Rutherford's sporting paraphernalia were kept.
The game was not a lively one, and a gloomy despondency seemed to spread its shadow over the table.
"This is very far, my friends," remarked Rutherford, "from the pleasant evening I hoped to give you."
"No matter," sighed Plowden, resignedly; "even this is better than being hanged for bigamy."
"Oh, pshaw, man! that is not a hanging offence. And you're not even convicted yet. Don't give way so. You'll come out all right."
"Yes, I suppose we all will—if we don't starve meanwhile," grumbled Wildfen.
"Oh, no fear of that," laughed Rutherford. "Sam will see to it that we at least sit at the second table."
"That's what I've been used to," remarked Honey, unthinkingly; and then, recalling himself, seemed to listen for a sharp voice saying in reproof, "William!" After a moment he went on confusedly, "Well, gents. I don't pretend I'm equal to my position among you. Hit was 'er has dragged me hinto hit; I didn't want ter come. But that's hall hover an' done for. She's a good woman, honly I cawn't stand 'er hallways ha-naggink hat me hafore folks, hand ha pickink me hup habout my haitches. Why, hafore she married me, hif I'd ha' dropped ha bushel hof 'em she wouldn't ha' said nothink. Marriage, gents, 'as been a werry big disappintment to yours trewly."