card-table, and laid out the cards. Soon silence reigned, while the
three friends were absorbed in the mysteries of whist.

The doctor made pretension to being a great player, and had no mercy for
the mistakes of his partners. He exulted loudly when their errors caused
him to win, and scolded when they made him lose. After every rubber he
took pleasure in showing the delinquent where he had erred; what card he
should have led, and which he should have held back. It is generally the
habit of whist-players, but it is not always conducive to amiability,
particularly when the victims are the same every evening.

Happily for him, the doctor's two friends never lost their temper. The
professor was habitually cool, and the lawyer severely skeptical.

"You are right," the first would say gravely, in answer to the most
severe reproaches.

"My dear Schwaryencrona, you know very well you are only losing your
time lecturing me," Mr. Bredejord would say, laughing. "All my life I
have made the greatest blunders whenever I play whist, and the worst of
it is, I do not improve." What could any one do with two such hardened
sinners?

The doctor was compelled to discontinue his criticisms, but it was only
to renew them a quarter of an hour later, for he was incorrigible.

It happened, however, that this evening he lost every game, and his
consequent ill-humor made his criticisms very severe upon his two
companions, and even upon the "dummy."