“What is it?” she says.
“A straight,” says Quinn.
“Oh, yes; sure!” she says, and showed ’em to all of us.
It wasn’t no more straight than a rabbit. Ace, deuce, four, five and six; that’s what she showed us.
I wish you could of seen Hatch. He went up a mile.
“Great stuff!” he says. “Very foxy! But you won’t get away with that very often. Wait a minute!” he says. “You couldn’t even open the pot.”
“Oh, yes, he could!” says I. “He had a pair of aces.”
“I thought sure I had a straight,” says Quinn. “I told you I was all out o’ practice.”
“Shut up!” says Hatch. “You thought nothin’!”
“Never mind the way he talks,” I says to Quinn. “He’s just jokin.”
“If I done somethin’ wrong, let’s play it over,” says Quinn; and that made Hatch all the sorer.
As a matter o’ cold facts, Quinn did think he had a straight. If Hatch had been as well acquainted with him as I was, he’d of knew he was incapable o’ trick stuff. Him and brains ain’t even stepbrothers.
On the next deal Mrs. Hatch passed out the whole fifty-two cards before we could stop her. When she mixed ’em up for another try, half o’ them was facin’ one way and half the other. She got ’em straightened out and then dealt only five hands. All o’ which added to her husband’s enjoyment o’ the evenin’. But we always allow for six minutes’ rest when she’s dealin’ and if her husband’s a winner he don’t notice the delay. But now he says:
“What the devil’s got into you? You better get a basket! You deal like you do everything else!”
“I told you this was just a friendly game,” says I to Quinn.
“You’re gettin’ smart too!” says Hatch to me.
“Listen, Jim!” I says. “Just because the kid made you lay down the best hand, with a little strategy, you don’t have to contract the hydrophobia and endanger the lives of hundreds o’ men, women and children. Didn’t you never run a bluff yourself?”
“Mind your own business!” says Hatch; and I could see that his wife was goin’ to have a pleasant trip home.
I don’t remember what happened when she finally did get seven hands dealt out right. But I do remember what come off on Quinn’s deal. I ought to.
Sweetness opened under the gun. My Missus and Tuttle stayed, and I tilted her with a four-straight flush. Mrs. Hatch was busy suppressin’ her tears and Quinn didn’t have nothin’. Mrs. Quinn just lingered, and so did the Missus and Tuttle.
“I don’t know how to draw,” says the bride. “I guess I’ll throw these three away and keep my two deuces.”
So she throwed three away; and, as usual, she throwed ’em face up. Her discards was the six, nine and ten o’ diamonds. She’d broke up a straight flush, pat. Even Quinn could see that when he noticed what she’d sloughed off; but her three new cards had already been dealt and they was nothin’ to be done, only feel sorry for her.
My wife and Tuttle each drawed to a pair and didn’t help. I had the three, four, and five o’ spades and a deuce, goin’ in. Í catched the ten o’ spades, makin’ me a plain flush. Mrs. Quinn best and I raised. Actin’ on her husband’s advice, she raised back, and I called. She’d hooked three clubs to her two deuces, and my flush looked like last night’s supper dishes.
“Now,” says Hatch, “I guess that’ll hold you.”
“I ain’t goin’ to cry about it,” says I. “I can lose thirty or forty cents without breakin’ down entirely.”
Tuttle got his when Marion dealt. The Missus opened ahead of him and he just dallied. I quit and so did the silent partner on my left. Quinn stayed and his baby throwed hers in the ash heap, because she wouldn’t compete against him.
The Missus took three. Tuttle ast for one and Mrs. Quinn turned it over on him. It was a heart and he was drawin’ to four o’ them. He grabbed it and was goin’ to keep it.
“You can’t take that one,” says Hatch.
“Who says I can’t?” says Tuttle.
“That’s the rules,” says Hatch. “You can’t take no turned card on the draw.”
“Was it my fault she turned it?” says Tuttle.
“It don’t make no difference whose fault it was,” Hatch says. “The card was turned and you can’t take it.”
“I’m goin’ to take it,” says Tuttle.
“You take it and I quit,” says Hatch.
“I should worry if you quit!” says Tuttle. “You’re always makin’ up rules. You think you run every game you’re in; but you can’t run me.”
“Quinn,” I says, “I warned you this was just a little friendly game.”
Well, the pair o’ them almost come to blows; but finally Hatch convinced him that he couldn’t take the card. We’d always played that way.
And then what does Mrs. Quinn do but turn over another one; and it was another heart!
Ten minutes’ intermission, durin’ which Tuttle got his hat on and started home, and had to be coaxed back. The card he finally got was a club and Quinn copped the pot.
“I and the little girl’s certainly goin’ some,” he says. “I guess we’re rotten at this game!”
“Your guess is right!” says Tuttle. “You play like a boob, you and your wife both!”
Quinn give him a maddenin’ smile and sweetheart made it worse by gigglin’.
Mrs. Hatch lost her head on the next one and opened it for twenty cents, half cash. The Quinns couldn’t stick and the rest of us faded away. They’s no use participatin’ when Mrs. Hatch opens. If they’s anything better’n a royal flush, she’s got it.
At eleven o’clock I still had my temper and about ninety cents. At three minutes after eleven I didn’t have neither.
It was Mrs. Quinn’s deal. Hatch opened. I set there with four
