fles in
squads of four. This is an ideal breakfast, Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog."
"I am glad you are pleased," said the landlady, graciously. "My one aim
is to satisfy."
"You are a better shot than most women," said the Idiot. "I wonder why
it is," he added, "that waffles are so generally modelled after
playing-cards, and also why, having been modelled after playing-cards,
there is not a full pack?"
"Fifty-two waffles," said Mr. Whitechoker, "would be too many."
"Fifty-three, including the joker," said Mr. Pedagog.
"What do _you_ know about cards, John?" asked Mrs. Pedagog, severely.
The Idiot laughed.
"Did you ever hear that pretty little song of Gilbert and Sullivan's,
Mr. Poet, 'Things are seldom what they seem'?" he asked.
"Why shouldn't I know about playing-cards?" said Mr. Pedagog, acridly.
"Mr. Whitechoker seems to be aware that a pack holds fifty-two cards--if
he, why not I?"
"I--ah--I of course have to acquaint myself with many vicious things
with which I have very little sympathy," observed Mr. Whitechoker,
blandly. "I regard cards as an abomination."
"So do I," said Mr. Pedagog--"so do I. But even then I know a full
house--I should say a full pack from a--er--a--er--"
"Bob-tail flush," suggested the Idiot.
"Sir," said Mr. Pedagog, "I am not well up in poker terms."
"Then you ought to play," said the Idiot. "The man who doesn't know the
game has usually great luck. But I am sorry, Mrs. Pedagog, that you are
so strongly opposed to cards, for I was going to make a suggestion which
I think would promote harmony in our little circle on waffle days. If
you regard cards as wholly immoral, of course the suggestion is without
value, since it involves two complete packs of cards--one cardboard pack
and one waffle pack."
"I don't object to cards as cards, Mr. Idiot," said the landlady. "It is
the games people play with cards that I object to. They bring a great
deal of unnecessary misery into the world, and for that reason I think
it is better to avoid them altogether."
"That is quite true," said the Idiot. "They do bring about much
unhappiness. I know a young woman who became a victim of insomnia once
because in a series of ten games of old maid she got the odd card seven
times. Of course it wasn't entirely the cards' fault. Superstition had
something to do with it. In fact, I sometimes think the fault lies with
the people who play, and not with the cards. I owe much to the game of
whist. It
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