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Mister Frank drummed his fingers on the table, realized to his horror that he was doing it, and bought three new cards to cover his confusion. The old baggage didn't appear to notice.
He stared at the new hand.
He ventured two dollars and bought one more card.
He stared again.
What were the odds, he thought, against getting a Great Onion twice in one day?
The important thing was not to panic.
'I think,' he heard himself say, 'that I may hazard another two dollars.'
He glanced at his companions. They obediently folded, one after another.
'Well, I don't know,' said Granny, apparently talking to her cards. She cleaned her ear again. 'Tch, tch, tch. What d'you call it when, you know, you want to put more money in, sort of thing?'
'It's called raising,' said Mister Frank, his knuckles going white.
'I'll do one of them raisins, then. Five dollars, I think.'
Mister Frank's knees ground together.
'I'll see you and raise you ten dollars,' he snapped.
'I'll do that too,' said Granny.
'I can go another twenty dollars.'
'I - ' Granny looked down, suddenly crestfallen. 'I've . . . got a broomstick.'
A tiny alarm bell rang somewhere at the back of Mister Frank's mind, but now he was galloping headlong to victory.
'Right!'
He spread the cards on the table.
The crowd sighed.
He began to pull the pot towards him.
Granny's hand closed over his wrist.
'I ain't put my cards down yet,' she said archly.
'You don't need to,' snapped Mister Frank. 'There's no chance you could beat that, madam.'
'I can if I can Cripple it,' said Granny. 'That's why it's called Cripple Mister Onion, ain't it?'
He hesitated.
'But - but - you could only do that if you had a perfect nine-card run,' he burbled, staring into the depths of her eyes.
Granny sat back. >
'You know,' she said calmly, 'I thought I had rather a lot of these black pointy ones. That's good, is it?'
She spread the hand. The collective audience made a sort of little gasping noise, in unison.
