"London Bridge"
when she was quite small, she and Timothy and the little darkies from
the washer-woman's cabin, and they had all liked it very much as a
game; but they had never thought of calling it just "bridge."

"I used to play London Bridge when I was little, but of course I don't
now."

"I meant cards," explained the visitor with a well-bred smile. "I'm
perfectly mad about it. Though some people do like auction better, I
never have."

Her smile had nettled her hostess. It had a calm superiority about it
that was rather trying. "No," she replied, shortly. "No, I don't know
anything about it, or that other thing either. Aunt 'Liza says playing
cards are wicked."

The delicate black eyebrows of the visitor lifted a little.

"It's too bad if you don't play. There're so many bridge parties given
here. And," she added, "Mr. Bennet plays a beautiful game."

Arethusa decided that Miss Warren was not nearly so pretty as she had
at first considered her.

At this critical juncture, George made his entrance with the tea-tray.
Arethusa remembered she was a hostess and had a guest. She enquired if
the guest would care for some tea.

The guest would be delighted to have some tea. She was famished, she
added.

But Arethusa made no reply to this sally. She had not yet forgiven that
last remark about Mr. Bennet's ability as a bridge-player.

While the tea and its attendant sandwiches were consumed almost in
silence, Arethusa did some thinking. When in Rome do as the Romans do
is an excellent old saw, and although Miss Eliza's views on the subject
of games played with a deck of cards were firm and had been expressed
so as not to be mistaken, Arethusa was meditating open defiance. If the
Wonderful Mr. Bennet played bridge, then she, Arethusa, would learn the
game, Miss Eliza or no Miss Eliza.

Over her last sandwich, she eyed Miss Warren.

"Is it very hard to learn?"

"What?"

"That.... That card game you called 'bridge'?"

Miss Warren laughed with softness. Arethusa was really rather amusing.

"Why, not at all, I think, for some people. Would you care to learn?
I'd be delighted to teach you myself, sometime. Mr. Bennet says I play
a very good game."

Arethusa choked on her sandwich.

"I don't think I shall bother _you_," she said, pointedly; "Mr. Bennet
would show me, if I asked him, I reckon."

Once more Miss Warren's well-bred and superior smile shone forth to
arouse resentment. "I think if I were you, Mi