“Have ye the devil’s prayer-book with ye, Ginger?” asked Micky’s Jim.
“Here it is,” said the man, drawing a pack of cards from his pocket and running his hands along the edge of it.
“We’ll have a bit of the Gospel of Chance,” said Murtagh Gallagher.
“It’s no game for Christians,” remarked Owen Kelly, picking his teeth with a splinter of wood.
“D’ye know why Owen Kelly doesn’t like Ginger Dubbin?” Gourock Ellen asked Dermod Flynn in a whisper. “No? Then I’ll tell ye, but never let dab about it. Four years ago Ginger, drunken old scamp that he is, came here and played cards with Owen, and Owen won at first, three shillin’s in all. Then he began to lose and lost half a crown of the money that he had won. ‘My God!’ said old Owen, and he was nearly greetin’; ‘My God! that I have ever lived to see this day!’ He has never played since that. D’ye play, Dermod?”
“I used to play for buttons in Ireland.”
“It’s a bad thing they are, the cards,” said Norah Ryan.
“Turn it up or I’ll gie ye a dunt in the lug!” Micky’s Jim was shouting to Willie the Duck, who was helping to turn the body of a disused cart upside down.
“Aye, sure,” said Willie the Duck, but as he spoke he fell prostrate on his face, causing all who were watching him to burst into loud peals of laughter.
When the cart was laid down a game of banker commenced and most of the squad joined in the game. Dermod Flynn watched the players for a little space; then he rose to his feet.