We were children in that July when the Doctor Gipsy came to visit. He arrived behind the wheel of a white Imperial automobile that reflected a sky of tangerine and blue . He wore a smooth hat, a Stetson, and a fine worsted suit, maybe charcoal flannel, with a vest and a black foulard tie pinned by a big raw pearl.
We gathered about him like wonder-eyed crows around a handmirror.
The Doctor Gipsy taught us to play the games of poker that summer with real money and, at the end of each day, gave back half of what he had taken from us. He kept playing with us in this arrangement until, of course, we soon had no more money with which to play. Whereupon the Doctor Gipsy said, “Well, boys, I believe you’ve learned about all that I can teach you about this.” There were no more poker games with the Doctor after that. He drove away in his Imperial on a cool Sunday evening, but he let us keep the deck.