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Nance repeated her formula several times before she remembered that Miss Bobinet was deaf; then she got up and shouted it close to the old lady's ear. "Lida Purdy's a fool," said Miss Bobinet, crossly. "What do I want with a chit of a girl like you?" "She thought I could wait on you," screamed Nance, "and read to you and play penuchle."
Purdy, with the gentle amazement of one who sees the finger of Providence in everything. "Not that I approve of playing cards, but Cousin Lucretia was always a bit worldly minded, and playing penuchle seems to be the chief diversion of her declining years. How old are you, my child?" "I'm seventeen. And I ain't a bit afraid of work, am I, Dan?" "I am sure you are not," said Mrs. Purdy.
The only word that got past the grizzled fringe that bordered Miss Bobinet's shriveled ear was the last one. "Penuchle?" she repeated. "Can you play penuchle?" Nance nodded. "Get the table," ordered the old lady, peremptorily. Nance tried to explain that she had not come to stay, that she would go home, and get her things and return in the afternoon, but Miss Bobinet would brook no delay.
You will know the place by the pet monkey which is always clambering about the balconies near the porter's lodge. More than that, if the princess is not on the Riviera, I'll take you there to tea some afternoon." "A real live princess!" said Merrihew. "Is she beautiful?" "Once upon a time," returned Hillard, laughing. "And, now, what do you say to a game of penuchle till dinner, a penny a point?"
Everybody knows Grebel and Larkin, and that they're the big wheezes in that Philly crowd. But what then? Had Grebel gone out to lunch? And was Larkin playin' penuchle? Thrillin', if true. Then comes this "Teg morf rednu" stuff. Was that Russian, or Chinese? "Heiney," says I, callin' the dough-faced food juggler. "Heiney," I repeats solemn, "Teg morf rednu." Not a smile from Heiney.
"Poker? seven-up?" "Isn't there another game called penuchle?" Mrs. Purdy ventured, evidently treading unfamiliar ground. "Yes!" cried Nance. "That's Uncle Jed's game. We used to play it heaps before Rosy cut up the queens for paper dolls." "Now isn't it too wonderful that you should happen to know that particular game?" said Mrs.
So we runs this partic'lar detective sergeant down, drags him away from a penuchle game, and Whitey begins by suggestin' that we hear how he's done some clever work on the Allston case. "I got him right, that's all," says Mike. "And he'd faked up a nice little stall too." "Anything on him when you rounded him up?" asks Whitey. Donahue shakes his head disgusted. "Stowed it," says he.
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