"'Arrah! what's vexing ye now?' says I, pulling the third five-pounder across the cloth.
"'Every thing!' returned he, 'I have the worst of luck, a tight boot, and a bad corn.'
"'I'll get ye slippers in a shake.'
"'Mind your cards,' says he, rather cross; 'there's nobody here but ourselves, and I'll pull off my boot quietly under the table!'
"He did so: we continued play; and, though he lost ahead, he recovered his temper, and seemed to bear it like a gentleman. It was quite clear that the boot had made him cranky. No wonder: an angry corn and tight shoe would try the patience of a bride.
"Well, the last of his bundle of bank-notes was in due course transferred to me, and I fancied I had him 'polished off;' but, dipping his hand into his big-coat pocket, he produced a green silk purse, half a yard long, and stuffed, apparently, with sovereigns. I lighted a cigar, and offered him another, but he declined it; and, after groping his cotamore for half a minute, produced a dudheen,[67] which he lighted at the candle. I have smoked tobacco here these ten years,—Persian or pigstail were all the same to me;—but the first whiff of Magan's pipe I thought would have smothered me on the spot.
"'Holy Bridget!' says I, gasping for breath. 'Arrah! what stuff is that you're blowing?'
"'It's rather strong,' says he, 'but beautiful when you're used to it. Cut the cards; and, as they say in Connaught, 'if money stands, luck may turn.'
"Just then Judy come in to ask Mr. Magan if he would have a second pair of blankets on his bed.
"'Will you come with me?' says he, putting his arm round her jokingly.