says he wouldn't mind sitting in at a little gentleman's game of
poker. He used to play some when he attended high school in Brooklyn;
and as he was out for a good time, why--and so forth.

"Andy brights up a little at that, for it looks like it might be a
solution to our financial troubles. So we all three go to our hotel
further down Broadway and have the cards and chips brought up to
Andy's room. I tried once more to make this Babe in the Horticultural
Gardens take his five thousand. But no.

"'Keep that little roll for me, Mr. Peters,' says he, 'and oblige.
I'll ask you fer it when I want it. I guess I know when I'm among
friends. A man that's done business on Beekman street for twenty
years, right in the heart of the wisest old village on earth, ought to
know what he's about. I guess I can tell a gentleman from a con man or
a flimflammer when I meet him. I've got some odd change in my clothes
--enough to start the game with, I guess.'

"He goes through his pockets and rains $20 gold certificates on the
table till it looked like a $10,000 'Autumn Day in a Lemon Grove'
picture by Turner in the salons. Andy almost smiled.

"The first round that was dealt, this boulevardier slaps down his
hand, claims low and jack and big casino and rakes in the pot.

"Andy always took a pride in his poker playing. He got up from the
table and looked sadly out of the window at the street cars.

"'Well, gentlemen,' says the cigar man, 'I don't blame you for not
wanting to play. I've forgotten the fine points of the game, I guess,