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“Lord,” growled Salmand, “there’s always been poor
folks and a few beggars.”
Sören trumped with a six.
“Oh, oh,” Rasmus moaned, “are you goin’ to let him
have it for a six? What the devil are you so stingy with
your old cards for, Salmand?”
He played, and Sören won the trick.
“Kerstie Meek,” said Soren, playing four of hearts.
“And her half-crazy sister,” continued Rasmus, putting
on four of diamonds.
“Maybe an ace is good enough,” said Sören, covering
with ace of trumps.
“Play, man, play, if you never played before!” cried
Rasmus.
“That’s too costly,” whimpered Salmand, taking his
turn.
“Then I’ll put on my seven and another seven,” said
Jens.
Sören turned the trick.
“And then nine of trumps,” Jens went on, leading.
“Then I’ll have to bring on my yellow nag,” cried
Salmand, playing two of hearts.
“You’ll never stable it,” laughed Sören, covering with
four of spades.
“Forfeit!” roared Rasmus Squint, throwing down his
cards. “Forfeit with two of hearts, that’s a good day’s work!
Nay, nay, ’t is a good thing we’re not goin’ to play any
more. Now let them kiss the cards that have won.”
They began to count the tricks, and while they were
busy with this, a stout, opulently dressed man came in. He
went at once to the folding-table, let it down, and took a
seat nearest the wall. As he passed the players, he touched
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