The sociable ghost Being the adventures of a reporter who was invited by the sociable ghost to a grand banquet, ball, and convention under the ground of old Trinity churchyard. A true tale of the things he saw and did not see while he was not there.
ghost and he saw them as they must have been in life, yet saw them only
as ghosts. He sensed these things without knowing how he did so.
The old maid ghost told the widow that she had heard that Edwards had
been a sad dog in his day, and that gave him added interest, for it must
be admitted that women do admire sad dogs.
When they were all seated they waited for their teacher to make a
beginning. He squared his shoulders, and tried to put his hands in his
pockets when he was suddenly brought to a realizing sense that there are
no pockets in shrouds. He also began to realize that he had undertaken a
greater task than he had thought. He had no money nor chips, and so
could not play poker. He looked the picture of misery.
He was thinking how he could get out of the place decently.
It was the practical old maid who suggested that they should play with
beans. She had heard that that was sometimes done. Edwards stifled a
groan.
When all the other women said that it was impossible to find beans, and
that it would be better to use pebbles as the others were doing, the old
maid told them to wait a moment, and almost before they missed her she
was back with at least a peck of beans of different colors tied up in
her shroud.
She tripped along in such a funny, affected manner that the newspaper
man could not help smiling, though of course he hid that fact. For
Edwards was a much larger man than he was, and he thought that a blow
from one of those bony fists would make a ghost of him too. And he was
not hankering after immortality just then.
The old maid emptied out all the beans, and they sorted the different
colors into different piles. Edwards counted them and divided them all
around into equal parts. Then he produced the cards and said: “We must
have something to represent money and these beans—”
“Oh!” cried the sparrow ghost, “we must not bet. It is wicked to bet.”
“Then you cannot learn to play poker,” replied he.
“I don’t see why,” responded she pugnaciously.
“All right. Have it your own way. You will have to give up your poker
lesson right now, for the betting is all there is to it.”
There was a whole chorus of exclamation from the rest. The old maid
ghost said that after so much trouble had been taken, and as none of the
rest had any scruples against betting beans, she did not see why the
rest could not go on, and Mrs. Fogg stay out. The big gambler waited
with what patience he could muster, for the game had little zest to him
without money.
He put the pack of cards back somewhere in his shroud and waited. On
seeing this the other five took an anxious cry that he must not desert
them. Quiet was restored on the promise that the betting with the beans
should be regarded solely in a Pickwickian sense. So the beans were
distributed. The black beans stood for fifty cents each, and the white
ones for a dollar each, and the big red ones for five dollars.
“That is high enough for beginners, isn’t it?” asked the old lady
benignly.
The big professional gambler took a severe fit of coughing and shook so
hard that the newspaper man thought surely he would fall in pieces, but
he rallied and said:
“Now, ladies, I deal you each five cards. Your object will be to see how
many of a kind you can get together.”
“What kind?” asked the sparrow woman.
“Why, two aces, or three deuces, trays, fours or face cards all the way
up. Aces are the highest.”
“Which one?” asked the little woman.
“Higher than a ten?” asked the widow.
“I said the ace is the highest card in the pack,” replied he.
“That is not answering the question, sir. I wish to know which one.”
“Oh, any one,” answered the man wearily.
“But I can't see how four aces can all be the highest,” said the
sparrow.
“I mean that they all count higher than any other card. After ace comes
king, then queen, then jack, then ten and so on. Four aces make the best
hand except a royal flush or straight. Two of a kind are good, three
better, four best. I will explain the rest as we go along. Now I deal
you each five cards—”
“You said that before,” remarked one of the ghosts.
“So I did. Now you must decide upon your limit.”
“I have five cards. I thought you said that was the limit,” said she of
the pretty teeth.
“I mean, how much do you want to bet? As you are beginners, suppose you
make it a half a dollar.”
“You said there was to be no betting,” cried Mrs. Fogg, at the same time
trying to match a pair of a jack of diamonds and a four of spades that
she had spread out on the table before her.
“Oh, you each are to put a black bean on the middle of the table, and,
madam, please never show your cards until you are called.”
“Sir!”
“Oh,” groaned the gambler, “what I mean is this. I will explain as we go
along when someone calls for you to show down, but it is or should be
your object to hide your hands—cards—as completely as possible from all
the others.”
“I don’t see how I am going to find out if I don’t look,” grumbled the
little woman.
The newspaper man was enjoying this mightily, and from time to time he
cast pitying eyes at the unfortunate big ghost, for once he had had the
pleasure of teaching three women to play the noble game, and he fully
sympathized with the suffering man.
The ghostly gambler gathered himself together and said:
“Now, ladies; there are a number of complications in this game, and as
they arise I will explain them.”
“I would prefer to know them all at once,” said she of the pretty teeth.
“I am sure that I could remember.”
The poor man began to look as if he thought that this was a job put up
against his peace of mind, but he courageously continued:
“As I said, your object is to get as many pairs or cards of the same
number of spots into your hand as possible, and if you have two pairs,
or only one pair, you can draw three cards from the pack putting as many
of those as you hold in your hand back—discard, they call that—and try
and make up a full hand that way. Now each of you has five cards. Please
look at them, and, well, as this is the first, perhaps it would be
better for you to show them, and I will advise you what to do.”
“You just told me not to show mine.”
“Now, wouldn't that come and fetch you?” muttered the wretch under his
breath.
“What’s trump?” asked she whose teeth were so pretty.
The old maid scored a hit by putting her cards, hand and all, into the
big paw of the gambler, and letting it lie there innocently.
“I'll scrape the pot,” cried the old lady ghost, at the same time
triumphantly showing two deuces and three trays.
“I—I—beg your pardon?” said the bewildered man.
“Isn’t that what you say when you get better than anyone?” she asked
defiantly.
“Oh, yes,” murmured he faintly; “but we must wait and see what the
others have got.”
One lady had two queens, two jacks and a tray, and another had four
fives and an ace. Mrs. Fogg had a four, a seven, a jack and two nines.
She was highly indignant when she discovered that her hand did not count
beside the others.
“If there is going to be such favoritism shown, I don’t care to play,”
she said, pouting.
The woman with the pretty teeth had a pair of aces and three kings, and
the old maid had a royal flush. It was a task beside which that of
Hercules sunk into ignoble insignificance to explain just why a royal
flush was higher than the pairs on which he had just laid such stress,
while he had not even mentioned the royal flush at all. He made up his
mind that he would not mention a straight even if one turned up every
hand. The miserable man was nearly exhausted before they all understood,
and he never thought of looking at his own hand at all. The chair where
he sat was one of those old-fashioned kind, made of horsehair, and he
kept slipping down, and by his gyrations alone anyone could have seen
his uneasiness.
Finally, after much explanation they got down to a real game. Each got
her cards, examined them defiantly and every one bet with a recklessness
that had no limit but the amount of beans on hand. The last bean was on
the table. After about forty-five different attempts, each prefaced and
followed by explanations from the miserable ghost they had drawn and
discarded.
“I did not need anything more,” said the old lady, “but I thought I
might get something better than four aces, so now I will stand squat.”
“I—I beg your pardon?” gasped he.
“That is what you said, isn’t it, Lavinia? I mean when you have all you
want.”
“Oh, pat, madam. I said pat.”
“If you had meant pat, why did you say squat? Was it meant to confuse
me?”
“What is trump, please,” said the widow plaintively.
“There is no trump in poker, madam,” said Edwards for the twentieth
time.
The old maid leaned over and whispered confidentially:
“I won't play if such favoritism is shown”
“Please, dear Mr. Edwards; is mine a good hand?”
“I only wish that I might always be sure of holding one as good. Why,
madam, it is simply gorgeous—a regular beauty.”
“Oh, Mr. Edwards! You naughty man!”
“I see everyone and I make it five hundred better and I call,” cried
Mrs. Fogg, piling all her beans in a heap and then preparing one end of
her shroud to hold her winnings. The big gambler had somehow found a
pocketknife and this he jabbed surreptitiously into the chair as a
relief to his feelings, while the six women were quarreling over the
beans. They appealed to him, and the old lady said:
“Mr. Edwards, Mrs. Robinson hasn't anted at all for three hands, and
Miss Shookes puts a handful of beans of all colors in the pot every time
without counting them.”
“Oh, well; she knows that this is only to learn. She wouldn’t do that if
it were real money.”
“No, indeed; for I was always noted for my prudence about money. That is
how I died richer than some folks I know of, who had scarcely enough to
pay for their funerals.”
“I think, ladies, that you could all show your hands now.”
Mrs. Fogg triumphantly put six cards on the table. She had kept one of
her discards to make up three pairs. This caused much animated
discussion, particularly as Mrs. Washner had four fives.
“You said you had four aces,” whimpered Mrs. Fogg when the case was
decided against her.
“I did not, did I, Mr. Edwards?”
“I don’t remember,” replied he, wishing that he had had sense enough to
go into the billiard room and stay there instead of making such an idiot
of himself.
“I simply said that I drew that card to see if I could get anything
better than four aces. Now, isn’t that what you would call a bluff?”
“Yes; and it was a good one, too,” said he admiringly.
“Besides Mrs. Fogg had six cards, and—”
“Well she didn’t have the four aces, and that isn't half as honest as my
having six cards. You told me, and you know it very well, that I was to
get as many pairs as I could. She didn’t have the aces, and I did have
three pairs, and I am entitled to the beans, so now!”
The woman with the fine teeth looked dreamily at the gambler and
silently laid down her hand. There were four aces and a king. None of
the others had anything to beat this, and she smiled bewitchingly at him
as he awarded her the beans, whereat Mrs. Fogg flew into a violent
passion and sobbed tearlessly, until the poor man did not know what to
do. She continued until he was ready to throw up the whole affair and
leave as she said:
“I just don’t care! I am sure Mr. Edwards just picked those cards out on
purpose for her. I don’t want the old beans. I detest beans, only I
believe in standing up for principle, and I know that
gamblers—professional gamblers—do cheat at cards.”
“I think that a gambler—even a professional gambler—would have to be
very unprincipled to try to win with six cards when he knew that that