_ Sampson liked a game of cards: he
could play, yet talk chronothermalism, as the fair can knit babies' shoes
and imbibe the poetasters of the day.
Mrs. Dodd had asked Edward to bring a fresh pack. He was seen by his
guardian angel to take them out of his pocket and undo them; presently
Sampson, in his rapid way, clutched hold of them; and found a slip of
paper curled round the ace of spades, with this written very clear in
pencil,
"REMEMBER THY CREATOR IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH!"
"What is this?" cried Sampson, and read it out aloud. Jane Hardie
coloured, and so betrayed herself. Her "word in season" had strayed. It
was the young and comely Edward she wished to save from the diabolical
literature, the painted perdition, and not the uninteresting old sinner
Sampson, who proceeded to justify her preference by remarking that
"Remember not to trump your partner's best card, ladies," would be more
to the point.
Everybody, except this hardened personage, was thoroughly uncomfortable.
As for Alfred, his face betrayed a degree of youthful mortification
little short of agony.
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