was played in gentlemen's houses. He was also flattered by the greedy coveting of his money by the others, and he flung the coins to them as if he were feeding a herd of swine.
Aggerbölle, the vet., sat opposite the schoolmaster—he was a powerful broad-shouldered man with thick brown hair and a grizzled beard. He sat resting his head on his hand, buried in a dull, gloomy reverie. Now and then he ran his hand through his bushy mane, beating his forehead and cursing himself bitterly. The toddy had gone to his head, and he had been very unlucky this evening. Only a vanishing number of Jensen's coins had found their way to his pocket—and for Aggerbölle, card-playing was not a mere pastime, as it was to the others,—it was a life and death struggle for existence.
Suddenly the schoolmaster's old boots began to creak violently under the table. His eyes, under their silvery brows, turned anxiously towards a saucer of 25 öre pieces which stood in the middle of the table, the so-called "Pool."
At last he wiped his pale face, closed his eyes for a moment as he did on Sundays before saying the opening prayer at the chancel steps, and said quietly, "I play for the pool!"
The drowsy figures started up, and the vet. lifted his heavy head, ready to cry with exasperation.
"What suit?" he growled.
"Clubs," answered the schoolmaster benignly.
