Guy occupied rooms in Randolph. He shared them with a freshman named Boerick, a tall, saturnine and unpopular fellow, who, as the possessor of an income sufficient to the needs of a prince, was frankly intolerant of those less lavish in the display of wealth. His admiration for Guy was the exception proving the rule. Guy was well supplied with money, but, unlike his roommate, never made known the fact save in the elegance of his clothes. He treated Boerick with good-natured contempt, explaining to those who expressed surprise at his friendship for that person that Boerick had become necessary to him.

“I couldn’t do without him now,” he declared. “He’s really a sort of penance, like a hair shirt or something of that kind, you know. Without him I would undoubtedly be much more comfortable, but I’d certainly miss him terribly. I’d have nothing to scratch against my sensibilities. Besides, he’s an ever-present moral lesson, pointing[104] out eloquently the danger of combining wealth with small minds.”

As a rule Boerick was not present during Phillip’s Saturday night visits to Guy, a fact for which Phillip was heartily thankful, since the other’s disdain always made him long to punch his nose. On a certain Saturday evening about a month after the opening of college Phillip and Chester found, on reaching Guy’s study, that Boerick was in possession of the couch and was evidently inclined to spend the evening at home. Phillip returned his off-hand salutation politely and for the next half-hour carefully left him to Chester, who looked upon him much as a small boy looks upon an animal in the Zoo, and who was always glad of the opportunity to, figuratively, punch him through the bars and hear him growl.

Guy had been lined up that afternoon in the freshman second team during a stiff game with the first, and as a result was feeling tired and a trifle bored. He yawned several times in the course of a desultory conversation with Phillip, and finally, tossing aside his cigar, arose and stretched his arms wearily overhead. “Look here, you fellows, I’m sick of jabber. Who’s for a game of cards?”

[105]

“Good stuff!” cried Chester. “Fetch ’em out.”

“You play?” asked Guy, turning to Phillip.

“A little.”

“What are you going to play?” asked Boerick.

“Oh, nickel ante, I guess.”

“Too exciting; leave me out.”

“You’ll either get off that couch and take a hand or you’ll be put out,” said Guy firmly. Boerick grinned and drew a chair to the table from which Guy had swept everything unceremoniously onto the floor. But even nickel-ante didn’t prove sufficiently exhilarating to Guy, and when, after some twenty minutes of play during which Phillip won forty cents, Boerick proposed raising the limit to a dollar, he promptly agreed. Phillip hesitated. He had only about six dollars in his pocket, while his entire wealth was represented by something well under a hundred.

“I’ll look on, I reckon,” he announced.

“Oh, come on in,” urged Chester. “It won’t hurt you.”

“To lose your money,” said Guy, “is one of the few really satisfactory ways of enjoying life. That’s what money’s for—to lose. As the psalmist so sweetly sings, ‘Here to-day and gone to-morrow;[106] squander what you’ve got, then borrow.’ Besides, it is quite within the possibilities that you’ll win enough to give us all a dinner at the Touraine. Come to think about it, fellows, I’m not sure that it isn’t a decidedly risky thing we’re doing. Virginians, you know, have a devil of a reputation for cards and pistols.”

“That was before the war,” drawled Boerick. “Virginia has degenerated. Isn’t that so, Ryerson?”

“No,” replied Phillip, striving to conceal his annoyance. “Our reputation as card-players may be gone, but I reckon we’re still right handy with a pistol.”

“Oh, I apologize,” laughed Boerick. “You’re wise to leave cards alone, then, and wait until the pistols come on. Still, if it’s merely a matter of lack of money, I should be delighted to loan you what you need. Though, honestly, I had begun to congratulate myself upon at last having met with a Southerner who wasn’t dead broke.”

“Shut up, Joe,” said Guy. “Cut for deal.”

Phillip felt the blood mounting to his face, and would gladly have given all the money he feared to risk at cards for the privilege of leaning across the table and slapping Boerick’s face. As it was he[107] kept silence a moment until he was sure that his voice was steady. Then he answered:

“We Virginians are not in the habit of borrowing. Perhaps that’s one reason some of us are so poor. But the reason I hesitated about playing is that I have only a few dollars with me and it hardly seems worth while to start. I’m not much of a poker hand.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” answered Chester. “Paper’s good amongst friends; eh, Guy?”

“Good as gold; especially Phil’s. I must decline, however, to take any of your I. O. U.’s, Joe; I’m a burned child, my boy.”

Boerick grinned, but did not relish Chester’s laughter. “If I owe you anything——” he began.

“You don’t, Joe,” answered Guy. “You always pay up in the end. The trouble is your ends are so darned long coming! Your ante, Phil.”

For the next half-hour Phillip, as a result of careful playing, managed to hold his own. Boerick indulged in a number of sarcasms at his expense, and Phillip wished that he had enough money to accept the frequent challenges. But he kept his temper and his six dollars and was congratulating himself upon the fact when Chester called for a jackpot. At the[108] end of the fifth deal the little pile in the centre of the board had assumed quite generous proportions, while Phillip’s capital had dwindled sadly. Luck, however, was with him, for Chester opened, and Phillip, with all the courage of ignorance, drew to a flush and filled. Guy dropped out and Chester followed a moment later, leaving Phillip and Boerick to fight it out. Phillip was quite in the dark as to what manner of hand his adversary held, but he met each raise until two real and twelve mythical dollars lay in the pot. It is probable that he would have kept on until midnight had he not glanced up to find a warning look on Chester’s face. Then he called and a moment later was drawing his winnings toward him. Boerick’s hand had consisted of two pairs, aces and fours.

“These Virginians!” sighed Guy.

Boerick looked angry. Like all who pride themselves on their ability to play poker, he hated to lose—especially to Phillip, who was the veriest novice. He gathered up the cards and remarked sneeringly:

“It’s sometimes better to be lucky than to know how, eh, Ryerson?”

“I reckon you’re the one who is in luck,” answered[109] Phillip. “If I hadn’t taken pity on you and called you’d have lost a heap more than you did.”

“Now will you be good?” asked Chester.

“Well, next time don’t mind my feelings,” replied Boerick, ungraciously. “I like to lose to folks who need the money.”

“Thanks.” Phillip smiled over at him sweetly. “I’ve heard you were a bit of a philanthropist.”

Guy and Chester laughed loudly. Boerick’s money seldom aided any one save Boerick.

“Well, it’s about my bedtime, fellows,” announced Guy. “We’ll play one more round.”

“Jackpots,” suggested Chester. “I’ve got to get back some of the stuff I’ve lost to you dubs or I’ll be on half-rations for a week.”

“Jackpots it is,” answered Guy. “Deal the cards, my philanthropic Joseph.”

During the next three rounds Phillip’s winnings dwindled until only a trifle over his original six dollars remained beside him. But on the fourth fortune seemed to favour him again. It was Chester’s deal and Boerick opened for half a dollar.

“Cards?” he asked.

Guy shook his head solemnly. “Perish the thought!”

[110]

Phillip drew one and bettered his hand. He held a full house, Jacks and eights. Chester drew three cards and imperturbably lighted a fresh cigarette. Boerick discarded one card and dealt himself another, placing it, however, face down in front of him.

“I haven’t the least idea what it is,” he said with a bit of a swagger, “but I’ll bet one dollar that it’s what I want it to be. And it’ll cost the rest of you about fifty to turn it up.”

“Silly child,” murmured Guy, “I’ll see your old dollar and raise you to the full extent of the law.”

Phillip followed suit, as did Chester, and for a minute the quartette solemnly and silently increased the pot. Then Chester, with a sigh, dropped out. Phillip’s ready money was gone now and he was staking paper. Boerick, with the unknown card before him, smiled aggravatingly across at Phillip, until any discreet notion the latter may have entertained of leaving the roommates to fight it out between them was overcome by a determination to lose every cent he possessed rather than allow Boerick to think he was frightened.

Chester had pushed back his chair and was leaning over Phillip’s shoulder. But whether he approved or disapproved of his friend’s betting the latter[111] couldn’t tell. Phillip’s six dollars were now buried under a pile of chips, and he stood to lose more than he dared think about. Guy remained smiling and indifferent.

“Pile ’em up, Joseph,” he urged. “I need your money.”

At length even Joseph was impressed by his chum’s confidence and paused to view the pile of chips.

“I said fifty dollars, didn’t I?” he asked. “Well, I guess the fifty’s there. So——”

“But why stop at fifty?” asked Guy. “Heavens, man! do you think for a moment that my spending ability is limited to fifty dollars? Go ahead; play your part, Joe. Remember you’re a philanthropist!”

“I call you,” replied Boerick sulkily.

Guy sighed. “Was there ever such luck?” he asked despondently. “To think of wasting a hand like this on a paltry fifty dollars.” He laid down his cards, three queens and a pair of deuces, and glanced politely at Boerick. Boerick raised the card before him and with gloomy countenance showed his hand.

“Aces and nines?” said Guy. “Oh, hardly fit,[112] Joe, hardly fit!” He turned to Phillip. But that youth’s cards were already on the board and he was calmly accepting one of Chester’s cigarettes.

“By Jove, Phil, you nearly had it, eh? Well, better luck next time.”

“Hope so,” replied Phillip indifferently. “See how much I owe you, will you please?”

Guy glanced over the sheet beside him.

“Fifty-eight seventy-five, Phil.”

“Thanks.” The fingers holding the cigarette trembled a trifle, but Phillip’s voice was beautifully untroubled. “I’ll pay you to-morrow.”

“Please don’t,” begged Guy. “There isn’t the least hurry. And besides, it might set an uncomfortable example to Joe here.”

Phillip laughed. “I’d rather, though,” answered he. “Coming, Chester?”

“I was tickled blue when Guy won that last pot from Boerick,” said Chester, as they went up the street. “I lost about twenty, but I don’t mind as long as he didn’t get it.”

“Yes,” answered Phillip abstractedly. On the avenue they parted and Phillip went home to his room. He undressed thoughtfully, donned a nightshirt, lighted a short pipe and stretched himself out[113] on the bed, his arms beneath his head. Maid, after a moment of consideration, crept up beside him and went to sleep there with long sighs of happiness. After the pipe had burned out and grown cold it still hung from between clenched teeth. Phillip was thinking.