But, observing the gracious outpouring of fortune upon the rustic with the rare accent, a youth in a green tie disengaged his arm--for the first time in two hours--from that of a girl upon whose finger there shone a ring, sumptuous and golden, and, conducting her to a corner of the yard, bade her remain there until he returned.

He had to speak to Hartly Bowlder, he explained.
Then he plunged, red-faced and excited, into the circle about the shell manipulators, and offered, to lay a wager.
"Hol' on there, Hen Fentriss," thickly objected a flushed young man beside him, "iss my turn." "I'm first.

Hartley," returned the other.

"You can hold yer bosses a minute, I reckon." "Plenty fer each and all, chents," interrupted one of the shell-men.
"Place yer spondulicks on de little ball.

Wich is de next lucky one to win our money?
Chent bets four sixty-five he seen de little ball go under de middle shell.