He hastily plunged his hand
in the outer pocket of his coat, and then dropped the bottle back in its
place still more hastily, after another glance at the priest.
"Well, I thought you might like it," he said with a touch of defiance,
feeling it necessary to assert himself. "When a man's face is as red as
yours, I don't see why a fellow mightn't ask him to take a drink."
Father Orin laughed with ready good humor.
"My face is red, my friend. I can't deny that fact; but the redness
comes from a thin skin and rough weather. What is it you want? I haven't
time to wait."
"Say, I kinder thought, seeing you and the doctor with them babies just
now,"--grinning again at the comical recollection--"that maybe you would
let me come into the game. I'd like to take a hand in the deal, if
there's room for another player. I'll put up the stakes right now." His
hand went into his breeches pocket this time. "Here's the roll I won on
the fall races. Put it all up on the game. What's the odds? Come easy,
go easy."
He held out the money. "I saw you at the court-house, too," he added
sheepishly, as if trying to excuse what he did.
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