"Speaking of lotteries," I said lightly, "you haven't heard the results of the last drawing, have you?"
"No," he answered, "but Silas is counting the hours until the afternoon when the papers come up—he bought half a dozen tickets from that chap who rode up here the other day—"
He rose from his chair and called the garage on the phone. By a miracle, Silas was there, and I heard Bill ask him the number of his tickets. Then, jotting them down, he called Havana and some mysterious person and asked for the winning numbers.
As he spoke in rapid Spanish, I was forced to wait until he turned from the phone to say, "By George, Silas has made a killing!"
I jumped up and was at his elbow when he put the receiver down.
"Oh what is it?" I asked, fairly dancing with excitement.
"Not the big prize," he answered, "but $1500 for all of that—"
"Sarah will die of joy," I began.
"So it's true then," said Bill, interrupting.
"True as true," I answered, "and I think it's splendid."