ickly that I will defy any of you to tell which is the ace.
Do you see? Now, I would like to bet the wine for the company that no
gentleman here can turn up the ace. All I want is a little sport.
Something to pass away the evening and amuse the company. Who will bet
the wine? The Scripture says that the hand is quicker than the eye, and
I warn you that if you bet, you will probably lose." And here he turned
the cards back, with their faces up, and the card which everybody felt
sure was the ace proved apparently to be that card. Most of the
on-lookers regretted that they had not bet, seeing that they would
certainly have won. Again the cards were put face down, and the company
was bantered to bet the wine. Nobody would bet.

[Illustration: A NICE LITTLE GAME.]

After a good deal of fluent talk, and much dexterous handling of the
cards, in a way that seemed clear enough to everybody, and that showed
that everybody's guess was right as to the place of the ace, the
near-sighted gentleman, who had drunk with Norman, offered to bet
five dollars.

"Five dollars!" returned Parkins, laughing in derision, "five dollars!
Do you think I'm a gambler? I don't want any gentleman's money. I've got
all the money I need. However, if you would like to bet the wine with
me, I am agreed."

The near-sighted gentleman declined to wager anything but just the five
dollars, and Parkins spurned his proposition with the scorn of a
gentleman who would on no account bet a cent of money. But he grew
excited, and bantered the whole crowd. Was there no _gentleman_ in the
crowd who would lay a wager of wine for the company on this interesting
little trick? It was strange to him that no gentleman had spirit enough
to make the bet. But no gentleman had spirit enough to bet the wine.
Evidently there were no gentlemen in the company.

However, the near-sighted man with the white hat adorned with crape now
proposed in a crusty tone to bet ten dollars that he could lift the ace.
He even took out a ten-dollar bill, and, after examining it, in holding
it close to his nose as a penurious man might, extended his hand with,
"If you're in earnest, let's know it. I'll bet you ten."

At this Parkins grew furious. He had never been so persistently badgered
in all his life. He'd have the gentleman know that he was not a gambler.
He had all the money he wanted, and as for betting ten dollars, he
shouldn't think of it. But now that the gentleman--he said _gentleman