would sit from noon until supper."

"I had money then," said I.

"And you have a little now, or I am cursed badly mistook. Oons! what do
you fear?" he exclaimed, "you that have played with March and Fox?"

"I fear nothing, doctor," I answered, smiling. "But a man must have a
sorry honour when he will win fifty pounds with but ten of capital."

"One of Dr. Franklin's maxims, I presume," says he, with sarcasm.

"And if it were, it could scarce be more pat," I retorted. "'Tis Poor
Richard's maxim."

"O lud! O my soul!" cries Tom, with a hiccup and a snigger; "'tis time
you made another grand tour, Courtenay. Here's the second Whig has got
in on you within the week!"

"Thank God they have not got me down to osnabrig and bumbo yet," replies
the doctor. Coming over to me by the fire, he tapped my sleeve and added
in a low tone: "Forbearance with such a pair of asses is enough to make a
man shed bitter tears. But a little of it is necessary to keep out of
debt. You and I will play together, against both the lambs, Richard.
One of them is not far from maudlin now."

"Thank you, doctor," I answered politely, "but I have a better way to
make my living." In three years I had learned a little to control my
temper.

He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Eh bien, mon bon," says he, "I dare
swear you know your own game better than do I." And he cast a look up
the stairs, of which I quite missed the meaning. Indeed, I was wholly
indifferent. The doctor and his like had passed out of my life, and I
believed they were soon to disappear from our Western Hemisphere. The
report I had heard was now confirmed, that his fortune was dissipated,
and that he lived entirely off these young rakes who aspired to be
macaronies.

"Since your factor is become a damned Lutheran, Tom," said he, returning
to the table and stripping a pack, "it will have to be picquet. You
promised me we could count on a fourth, or I had never left Inman's."

It was Tom, as I had feared, who sat down unsteadily opposite. Philip
lounged and watched them sulkily, snuffing and wheezing and dipping into
the bowl, and cursing the house for a draughty barn. I took a pipe on
the settle to see what would come of it. I was not surprised that
Courtenay lost at first, and that Tom drank the most of the punch. Nor
was it above half an hour before the stakes were raised and the tide
began to turn in the doctor's favour.

"A plague of you, Courtenay!" cries Mr. Tom, at length,