“Do you play high as a rule?” she inquired, scornfully.

“Sixpence a game,” replied the Major, simply.

The corners of Mrs. Riddel’s mouth relaxed, and her fine eyes began to water; then she turned her head away and laughed.  “It was very foolish of us, I admit,” said the Major, ruefully, “and very wrong.  I shouldn’t have told you, only I couldn’t explain my apparent neglect without.”

“Apparent neglect?” repeated the widow, somewhat haughtily.

“Well, put it down to a guilty conscience,” said the Major; “it seems years to me since I have seen you.”

“Remember the conditions, Major Brill,” said Mrs. Riddel, with severity.

“I shall not transgress them,” replied the Major, seriously.

Mrs. Riddel gave her head a toss, and regarded him from the corner of her eyes.

“I am very angry with you, indeed,” she said, severely.  The Major apologized again.  “For losing,” added the lady, looking straight before her.

Major Brill caught his breath and his knees trembled beneath him.  He made a half-hearted attempt to seize her hand, and then remembering his position, sighed deeply and looked straight before him.  They walked on in silence.

“I think,” said his companion at last, “that, if you like, you can get back at cribbage what you lost at chess.  That is, of course, if you really want to.”

“He wouldn’t play,” said the Major, shaking his head.

“No, but I will,” said Mrs. Riddel, with a smile.  “I think I’ve got a plan.”

She blushed charmingly, and then, in modest alarm at her boldness, dropped her voice almost to a whisper.  The Major gazed at her in speechless admiration and threw back his head in ecstasy.  “Come round to-morrow afternoon,” said Mrs. Riddel, pausing at the end of the lane.  “Mr. Halibut shall be there, too, and it shall be done under his very eyes.”

Until that time came the Major sat at home carefully rehearsing his part, and it was with an air of complacent virtue that he met the somewhat astonished gaze of the persistent Halibut next day.  It was a bright afternoon, but they sat indoors, and Mrs. Riddel, after an animated description of a game at cribbage with Miss Philpotts the night before, got the cards out and challenged Halibut to a game.

They played two, both of which the diplomatic Halibut lost; then Mrs. Riddel, dismissing him as incompetent, sat drumming on the table with her fingers, and at length challenged the Major.  She lost the first game easily, and began the second badly.  Finally, after hastily glancing at a new hand, she flung the cards petulantly on the table, face downward.

“Would you like my hand, Major Brill?” she demanded, with a blush.

“Better than anything in the world,” cried the Major, eagerly.

Halibut started, and Miss Philpotts nearly had an accident with her crochet hook.  The only person who kept cool was Mrs. Riddel, and it was quite clear to the beholders that she had realized neither the ambiguity of her question nor the meaning of her opponent’s reply.