was it, Grief? Oh, go ahead and
tell me!"

"What do you want to know for?" cried Grief, vastly exasperated. "You've
got more blamed curiosity---- It isn't anything at all, I keep saying to
you."

"Well, I know it is," said Florinda sullenly, "or you would tell me."

When Hawker brought the cigarettes, Florinda smoked one, and then
announced, "Well, I must go now."

"Who is going to take you home, Splutter?"

"Oh, anyone," replied Florinda.

"I tell you what," said Grief, "we'll throw some poker hands, and the
one who wins will have the distinguished honour of conveying Miss
Splutter to her home and mother."

Pennoyer and Wrinkles speedily routed the dishes to one end of the
table. Grief's fingers spun the halves of a pack of cards together with
the pleased eagerness of a good player. The faces grew solemn with the
gambling solemnity. "Now, you Indians," said Grief, dealing, "a draw,
you understand, and then a show-down."

Florinda leaned forward in her chair until it was poised on two legs.
The cards of Purple Sanderson and of Hawker were faced toward her.
Sanderson was gravely regarding two pair--aces and queens. Hawker
scanned a little pair of sevens. "They draw, don't they?" she said to
Grief.

"Certainly," said Grief. "How many, Wrink?"

"Four," replied Wrinkles, plaintively.

"Gimme three," said Pennoyer.

"Gimme one," said Sanderson.

"Gimme three," said Hawker. When he picked up his hand again Florinda's
chair was tilted perilously. She saw another seven added to the little
pair. Sanderson's draw had not assisted him.

"Same to the dealer," said Grief. "What you got, Wrink?"

"Nothing," said Wrinkles, exhibiting it face upward on the table.
"Good-bye, Florinda."

"Well, I've got two small pair," ventured Pennoyer hopefully. "Beat
'em?"

"No good," said Sanderson. "Two pair--aces up."

"No good," said Hawker. "Three sevens."

"Beats me," said Grief. "Billie, you are the fortunate man. Heaven guide
you in Third Avenue!"

Florinda had gone to the window. "Who won?" she asked, wheeling about
carelessly.

"Billie Hawker."

"What! Did he?" she said in surprise.

"Never mind, Splutter. I'll win sometime," said Pennoyer. "Me too,"
cried Grief. "Good night, old girl!" said Wrinkles. They crowded in the
doorway. "Hold on to Billie. Remember the two steps going up," Pennoyer
called intelligently into the Stygian blackness. "Can you see all
right?"

* * * * *