We politely invited him to take a hand, and he could not conceal his gratitude; though his breeding, and the etiquette of his profession, made him try.

We explained the game to him, and said that there were forty-one balls, and that the player was privileged to extend his inning and keep on playing until he had used them all up--repeatedly--and that for every ten-strike he got a prize.
We didn't name the prize--it wasn't necessary, as no prize would ever be needed or called for.

He started a sarcastic smile, but quenched it, according to the etiquette of his profession.

He merely remarked that he would like to select a couple of medium balls and one small one, adding that he didn't think he would need the rest.
Then he began, and he was an astonished man.

He couldn't get a ball to stay on the alley.