We were fools enough to be pleased with it.

Strangely, too, our luck turned from that minute, and it ended in our winning not only our own back, but more than as much more from the other men.
I don't think Mr.Falkland liked these goings on.

He wouldn't have allowed cards at all if he could have helped it.

He was a man that hated what was wrong, and didn't value his own interest a pin when it came in the way.

However, the shearing hut was our own, in a manner of speaking, and as long as we shore clean and kept the shed going the overseer, Mr.
M'Intyre, didn't trouble his head much about our doings in the hut.
He was anxious to get done with the shearing, to get the wool into the bales before the dust came in, and the grass seed ripened, and the clover burrs began to fall.
'Why should ye fash yoursel',' I heard him say once to Mr.Falkland, 'aboot these young deevils like the Marstons?
They're as good's ready money in auld Nick's purse.