affront to natural laws. It was the merest accident, she maintained,
when all the court-cards were dealt to one side--no merit at all of the
players. Her objection to whist was that it was a mixture of skill and
chance. She was inclined to favour games that were either quite the one
or quite the other. Roulette was a good game. So was chess. But whist
was neither fish nor flesh nor good red herring.... Misdeal! The
analysis of games stopped with a jerk, the dealer being left without a
turn-up card.

"But what a shame!" said Gwen. "Is it fair I should lose my deal when
the last card's an ace? How would any of you like it?" The appeal was
too touching to resist, though Mr. Pellew again said this wasn't whist.
A count of the hands showed that Aunt Constance held one card too few
and Gwen one too many. A question arose. If a card were drawn from the
dealer's hand, was the trump to remain on the table? Controversy ensued.
Why should not the drawer have her choice of thirteen cards, as in every
analogous case? On the other hand, said Gwen, that ace of hearts was
indisputably the last card in the pack; and therefore the trump-card, by
predestination.

Mr. Pellew pointed out that it mattered less than Miss Dickenson
thought, as if she pitched on this very ace to make up her own thirteen,
its teeth would be drawn. It would be no longer a turn-up card, and some
new choice of trumps would have to be made, somehow; by _sortes
Virgilianae_, or what not. Better have another deal. Gwen gave up the
point, under protest, and Miss Dickenson dealt. Spades were trumps, this
time.

It chanced that Gwen, in this deal, held the Knave and Queen of hearts.
She led the Knave, and only waiting for the next card, to be sure that
it was a low one, said deliberately to her partner:--"Don't play your
King, Cousin Clo; Percy's got the ace," in defiance of all rule and
order.

"Can't help it," said Cousin Clo. "Got nothing else!" Out came the King,
and down came the ace upon it, naturally.

"There now, see what I've done," said Gwen. "Got your King squashed!"
But she was consoled when Mr. Pellew pointed out that if Miss Grahame
had played a small card her King would almost certainly have fallen to a
trump later. "It was quite the right play," said he, "because now your
Queen makes. You couldn't have made with both."

"I believe you've been cheating, and looking at my hand," said Gwen.
"How do you know I've got the Queen?"

"How did you know I