"Not again!"

Frank Molloy stared at the heap of cards that he just dropped on the table, then started to pick them up one by one. His grandfather, who was sitting on the other side of the table, shook his head and smiled. Frank caught the gesture. "What? Don't give me that look! I bet you fumbled your cards when you were learning as well."

"What look?" Frank senior asked innocently.

Frank sighed with all the emotion that only a fourteen-year old could muster. "That look. The look that says you think I'm too slow."

The old man snorted. "You problem isn't that you're too slow - your problem is that you aren't slow enough."

Frank stopped shuffling the cards and stared at his grandfather. "That doesn't make sense. You've always given me that hand-quicker-than-the-eye crap. So, of course I've got to be - Hey!"

"Sure you do." Frank senior held up the deck of cards that he had just snatched from his grandson's grasp. "But first you have to be slow. You're trying to think your way through these tricks." The old man started to shuffle the cards, his hands just a blur. "But you got to do them without thinking." He fanned the cards out and offered one to Frank, who automatically took one. "Like that."

The boy looked down at the card in his hand and turned it over. It was the jack of diamonds. Frank's face reddened, then he handed the card back to his grandfather. "Right. But I've still got to be fast if I want to be as good as you."

"Sure you do." The old man shuffled the card back into the deck, then put the cards back onto the table between him and his grandson. "But you got to be good and slow before you can become good and fast. Let your fingers do the work, not your head." He nodded towards the cards. "Now, I want to see you stack that deck."

Frank picked up the cards and cursed. His grandfather slapped him across the wrist. "Watch your language," he said kindly. "And for your information, I fumbled my cards when my pappy taught me, and I still do. Now - get shuffling!"