to,” says Luke.
“He can’t deal off the bottom, though!”
Luke was on his feet in a flash, looking round the room. “Who said that?” he asked, and his voice was tight and mean. All conversation had stopped, and no one was prepared to own up. Least of all me—who’d said it.
“Well,” said Luke, as he resumed his seat, “that does it, pop! If I’m bein’ accused of cheatin’ by some lily-livered coward who won’t repeat such villainous vilification—then we’ll have to settle the question as a matter of honour, I reckon.
You
deal, pop!”
The old man hesitated—but not for too long. “Honour” was one of those big words with a capital letter, and wasn’t a thing you could shove around too lightly. So he picked up the cards and he shuffled them,boxing and botching the whole business with an awkwardness almost unmatched in the annals of card-play. But somehow he managed to square the deck—and he dealt.
“I’ll buy one,” says Luke, slipping a ten-dollar bill into the middle.
Virgil slowly covers the stake, and then pushes over a card.
“Stick,” says Luke.
Taking from his blazer pocket an inordinately large handkerchief, the old man mops his brow and turns his own cards over: a queen; and—an ace!
Luke merely shrugs his shoulders and pushes the kitty across. “That’s the way to do it, pop! Just you keep dealing yourself a few hands like that and—”
“No!” cries Minny, who’d been bleating her forebodings intermittently from the very beginning.
But Virgil lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be cross with me, old girl. And don’t
worry
! I’m just a-goin’ to deal myself one more li’l hand and …”
And another, and another, and another. And the gods were not smiling on the little man from Omaha: not the slightest sign of the meanest grin. Was it merely a matter of saving Face? Of preserving Honour? No, sir! It seemed just plain desperation as the old boy chased his losses round and round that smooth-topped table, with Minny sitting there beside him, her eyes tightly closed as if she was pinning the remnants of her hopes in the power of silent prayer. (I hitched the briefcase tighter under my right arm as I caught sight of Lucy behind the crowd, her eyes holding mine—again unsmilingly.)
By half-past ten Virgil K. Perkins Jnr. had lost onethousand dollars, and he sat there crumpled up inside his chair. It wasn’t as if he was short of friends, for the large audience had been behind him all along, just willing the old fellow to win. And it wasn’t as if anyone could blame our nimble-fingered Lukey anymore, for it was Virgil himself who had long since been dealing out his own disasters.
Not any longer, though. He pushed the deck slowly across the table and stood up. “I’m sorry, old girl,” he says to Minny, and his voice is all choked up. “It was your money as much as mine …”
But Luke was leaning across and he put his mighty palm on the old boy’s skinny wrist. And he speaks quietly. “Look, pop! You’ve just lost yourself a thousand bucks, right? So I want you to listen to me carefully because I’m gonna tell you how we can put all that to rights again. Now, we’ll just have one more hand—”
“NO!” (The little lady’s voice was loud and shrill this time.) “He
won’t
! He won’t lay down another dollar, d’you hear me? He’s just—he’s just a poor old fool, can’t you see that? He’s just a gullible, poor old—” But the rest of her words were strangled in her throat, and Virgil sat down again and put his arm round her shoulder as she began to weep silently.
“Don’t you
want
to get all your money back?” Luke’s voice is quiet again, but everyone can hear his words.
“Don’t listen to him!” shouts one.
“Call it a day, sir!” shouts another.
Says Luke, turning to all of them: “Old pop, here, he’s got one helluva sight more spunk in him than the rest o’ you put together! And, what’s more, not a
“He can’t deal off the bottom, though!”
Luke was on his feet in a flash, looking round the room. “Who said that?” he asked, and his voice was tight and mean. All conversation had stopped, and no one was prepared to own up. Least of all me—who’d said it.
“Well,” said Luke, as he resumed his seat, “that does it, pop! If I’m bein’ accused of cheatin’ by some lily-livered coward who won’t repeat such villainous vilification—then we’ll have to settle the question as a matter of honour, I reckon.
You
deal, pop!”
The old man hesitated—but not for too long. “Honour” was one of those big words with a capital letter, and wasn’t a thing you could shove around too lightly. So he picked up the cards and he shuffled them,boxing and botching the whole business with an awkwardness almost unmatched in the annals of card-play. But somehow he managed to square the deck—and he dealt.
“I’ll buy one,” says Luke, slipping a ten-dollar bill into the middle.
Virgil slowly covers the stake, and then pushes over a card.
“Stick,” says Luke.
Taking from his blazer pocket an inordinately large handkerchief, the old man mops his brow and turns his own cards over: a queen; and—an ace!
Luke merely shrugs his shoulders and pushes the kitty across. “That’s the way to do it, pop! Just you keep dealing yourself a few hands like that and—”
“No!” cries Minny, who’d been bleating her forebodings intermittently from the very beginning.
But Virgil lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be cross with me, old girl. And don’t
worry
! I’m just a-goin’ to deal myself one more li’l hand and …”
And another, and another, and another. And the gods were not smiling on the little man from Omaha: not the slightest sign of the meanest grin. Was it merely a matter of saving Face? Of preserving Honour? No, sir! It seemed just plain desperation as the old boy chased his losses round and round that smooth-topped table, with Minny sitting there beside him, her eyes tightly closed as if she was pinning the remnants of her hopes in the power of silent prayer. (I hitched the briefcase tighter under my right arm as I caught sight of Lucy behind the crowd, her eyes holding mine—again unsmilingly.)
By half-past ten Virgil K. Perkins Jnr. had lost onethousand dollars, and he sat there crumpled up inside his chair. It wasn’t as if he was short of friends, for the large audience had been behind him all along, just willing the old fellow to win. And it wasn’t as if anyone could blame our nimble-fingered Lukey anymore, for it was Virgil himself who had long since been dealing out his own disasters.
Not any longer, though. He pushed the deck slowly across the table and stood up. “I’m sorry, old girl,” he says to Minny, and his voice is all choked up. “It was your money as much as mine …”
But Luke was leaning across and he put his mighty palm on the old boy’s skinny wrist. And he speaks quietly. “Look, pop! You’ve just lost yourself a thousand bucks, right? So I want you to listen to me carefully because I’m gonna tell you how we can put all that to rights again. Now, we’ll just have one more hand—”
“NO!” (The little lady’s voice was loud and shrill this time.) “He
won’t
! He won’t lay down another dollar, d’you hear me? He’s just—he’s just a poor old fool, can’t you see that? He’s just a gullible, poor old—” But the rest of her words were strangled in her throat, and Virgil sat down again and put his arm round her shoulder as she began to weep silently.
“Don’t you
want
to get all your money back?” Luke’s voice is quiet again, but everyone can hear his words.
“Don’t listen to him!” shouts one.
“Call it a day, sir!” shouts another.
Says Luke, turning to all of them: “Old pop, here, he’s got one helluva sight more spunk in him than the rest o’ you put together! And, what’s more, not a
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