Jack was tempted to follow them, but finally decided not to do so. Some twenty minutes later Sparkfair reappeared in the house and sought Jack, whom he drew apart from the others.
“Randall, old man,” said Dale, “I’d like to borrow a little filthy lucre. Have you some molding simoleons in your clothes?”
“What do you want of money?”
“Now, that’s not nice, you know. If a friend asks you for a loan you should submit gracefully and without question to the holdup. I’m sure to pay you if I ever raise the dough. If I don’t, you may rest assured that you have performed a worthy action in contributing to the peace of mind of a distressed comrade.”
“You can’t spend any money here, Spark. How do you expect to get rid of it?”
“I’m going to plug up a rat hole with it. I’ve got to plug that hole, or the rat will eat my cheese. Now, don’t—don’t distress me by further inquiry. Don’t you observe the beads of cold and clammy perspiration upon my noble brow? Can’t you detect the haunting terror in my eye with fine frenzy rolling?”
“I know what you want with the money.”
“Tell me not in mournful numbers that this can be true.”
“I saw Jim Hanks.”
“You’re on.”