Part 6 (1/2)

”Ah, how do you feel, after your journey?” asked Mr. Royden. ”Hepsy, place a chair for Mr. Rensford.”

”No, no; do not trouble yourself, my child,” said the old gentleman, smiling kindly upon the girl. ”Let me help myself.”

He sat down in the seat she had vacated, behind Lizzie's chair.

”I feel much rested,” he added, cheerily. ”That nice cup of tea, Sister Royden, has made a new man of me.”

Mrs. Royden acknowledged the compliment with a smile, and Mr. Royden proceeded to give his venerable relative a formal introduction to his son Chester. The young man arose proudly, and, holding the cards in his left hand, advanced to offer the other to the clergyman.

”Ah! my young friend again!” cried the old gentleman, with a gleam of genuine suns.h.i.+ne on his face. ”I hardly expected to meet you so soon.”

Chester's manner changed oddly. He recoiled a step, and, although he maintained his proud bearing, his eye fell, and his cheeks tingled with sudden heat. But, recovering himself almost immediately, he accepted the proffered hand, and murmured,

”This is a surprise! My compliments to you, sir. I am glad to see you looking so well, after your tedious journey.”

”You have met before, I take it?” suggested Mr. Royden.

”Only this morning, and that without knowing each other,” replied the clergyman. He looked over Lizzie's shoulder. ”What is this, my dear?

Whist?”

”Yes, sir,” murmured the girl, feebly, and with a blush of shame.

In her confusion she threw down the worst card she could have played.

But James did not do much better; and the trick was Chester's. He smiled as he took it up, and gently admonished his sister to be more careful of the game.

The old gentleman entered into conversation with the parents, and the children gradually recovered their nerves. But all were now anxious that the play should be brought to a close. It so happened that the victory, to Chester and Lizzie, depended upon one trick. She played wrong, and they lost it; when, to the astonishment of all, Mr. Rensford exclaimed,

”Ah! that was a bad play, my dear! You should have led your ace, and drawn Sarah's queen, then your ten of trumps would have been good for the next trick. Don't you see?”

”Yes, sir,” murmured Lizzie, submissively.

”One would say you were an old hand at the game,” cried Chester.

”O, as to that,” replied the clergyman, smiling, ”I used to be considered a good whist-player in my younger days.”

”Won't you take a hand now, sir?”

”No, I thank you,” laughing good-humoredly; ”I gave up the amus.e.m.e.nt twenty years ago. But let me take the cards, if you are done with them, and I will show this little girl a pleasant trick, if I have not forgotten it.”

”Certainly, sir,” said Chester.

The family began to like the old gentleman already. Lizzie gave him her seat at the table, and looked over his shoulder. He sorted the cards with his thin, white fingers, and gave a number of them historical names, telling her to remember them. He called the game ”The Battle of Waterloo.” It proved eminently interesting to the older children, as well as to Lizzie; and, in such a simple, beautiful manner did the old man go through with the evolutions, that all, even the proud Chester, afterwards knew more about the last days of Napoleon's power than they had learned in all their lives.

”There!” exclaimed the clergyman, ”isn't that as good as whist?”

”I like it better,” answered Lizzie, who found herself already leaning fondly on his shoulder. ”But what did they do with Napoleon?”

”Would you like to know?”