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"Then," said Mose, the first speaker, his words escaping with even more difficulty than before, "throw around keards to see who's to marry the widder, an' boss her young uns. The feller that gits the fust Jack's to do the job."
"Pumpkin Hollow, State o' Maine," said Joshua. "Dad's an orthodox deacon. He never let any of us play keards. I don't know one from t'other." "I'll learn you," said the Pike man condescendingly. "Suppose we have a game of poker?" "Ain't that a gambling' game?" inquired Joshua. "We always play for something," said the Pike man. "It's dern foolishness playin' for nothing. Shall we have a game?"
After his last bloodthirsty declaration the man from Pike County temporarily subsided. He drew out from his pocket a greasy pack of cards, and after skilfully shuffling them inquired: "What do you say, strangers, to a little game to pass away the time?" "I never played keards in my life," said Joshua Bickford. "Where was you raised?" demanded the Pike man contemptuously.
But," added the judge, passing his pouch to the barkeeper, "if anything's to be done, it must be done lively, fur the stage is pretty nigh here. Tell ye what's ez good ez ennything. We'll crowd around the stage, fust throwin' keards for who's to put out his hoof to be accidently trod onto by the infernal teacher ez he gits out. Then satisfaction must be took out uv the teacher.
The judge briskly advanced his spectacles, which had gained him his title, and said: "True ez gospel; and when I asked him ef he wasn't ashamed of himself fur takin' away the boy's comfort, he said No, an' that I'd be a more decent man ef I'd give up keards myself." "He's alive yit!" said the first speaker, in a tone half of inquiry and half of reproof.
"Scrabblegrab, you're complained uv for goin' back on bitters, coaxin' Curly to give up keards, thus spoilin' his fun, an' knockin' appreciatin' observers out of their amusement; uv insultin' the judge, uv not cussin' when you stumble into the river, uv not havin' any good p'ints, an' not showin' yer bad ones; uv bein' a set-back on the tone uv the place lookin' like a green-apple-fed, vinegar-watered corkscrew, or words to that effect; an', finally, in savin' yer money.
He can't sing a song, except somethin' about 'Tejus an' tasteless hours, that nobody ever heard before, an' don't want to agin; he don't drink, he don't play keards, he don't even cuss when he tumbles into the river. Ev'ry man's got his p'ints, an' ef he hain't got no good uns, he's sure to have bad uns.
Now, when I wuz a little rat, an' went to Sunday-school, they used to keep a-waggin' at me 'bout evil communication a-corruptin' o' good manners. That's what he'll do fust thing yer know, other fellers'll begin to be stingy, an' think gold dust wuz made to save instid uv to buy drinks an' play keards fur. That's what it'll come to."
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