‘Oh! me,' said Tom. ‘Whatever you decide on will be a favourite with me. I have had some pleasant hours at speculation in my time; but I have not been in the way of it for a long while. Vingt-un is the game at Osborne Castle. I have played nothing but vingt-un of late. You would be astonished to hear the noise we make there—the fine old lofty drawing- room rings again. Lady Osborne sometimes declares she cannot hear herself speak. Lord Osborne enjoys it famously, and he makes the best dealer without exception that I ever beheld—such quickness and spirit, he Icts nobody dream over their cards. I wish you could see him over-draw himself on both his own cards. It is worth anything in the world!’
‘Dear me!’ cried Margarct, ‘why should not we play vingt-un? I think it is a much better game than speculation. I cannot say I am very fond of speculation.’
Mrs. Robert offered not another word in support of the game. She was quite vanquished, and the fashions of Osborne Castle carried it over the fashions of Croydon.
‘Do you see much of the parsonage family at the castle, Mr. Musgrave?’ said Iémma, as they were taking their seats.
‘Oh! yes; they are almost always there. Mrs. Blake is a nice little: goodhumoured woman; she and I are sworn friends; and Howard's a very gentleman-like good sort of fellow. You are not forgotten, I assure you, by any of the party. I fancy you must have a little cheek-glowing now and then, Miss
