Susan never took her eyes off the King and Ace which she still held. She was fascinated. She had even forgotten about her new bonnet. She said in a dreamy, half-conscious sort of way,—
“I believe it must be in the playing the wickedness is. I would like to see what it is. Will you show me—so that I may avoid it?”
Never in her life did Mrs. Gillison comply more willingly with a request.
“Of course, my dear, of course. Sit down opposite me there. Pick ’em all up. That’s right. Now hand ’em to me. This is the way we shuffle. D’ye see? And that’s the way we cut. There’s no harm in that, is there? Now run an’ fetch the cribbage board off my chest of drawers. It’s a long board with ivory in it, an’ a lot of little holes at the side. Run along.”
In another half hour Susan had begun to master the intricacies of the game, and was pegging away with an ardour which astonished even Mrs. Gillison, who was delighted at this new departure. The last words she said to herself as she turned into bed were,—
“What a treasure that girl is to be sure!”
Strange to relate the following evening found Mrs. Gillison and Susan Copeland sitting at the same table with the same cribbage board between them, evincing the same determined interest in the game. Susan had quite made up her mind that she had not yet arrived at the sinful phase of card playing.
“I suppose,” she ventured on this occasion, “that the sin of it is when you play for money.”
“I don’t see no sin in playin’ for money. Me an’ my husband always played sixpence a game.”
“Suppose—suppose,” said Susan, doubtfully, “that we try—just to see.”