"You heard what I said plain enough. You live in one yerself. What did that leetle shebang on Nob Hill cost ye?"
"Four hundred thousand dollars."
"Jiminy Christmas! Marble halls come high, but you've a large fam'ly, more's the pity. Put down seventy-five thousand. Got it? Yas. Now then, about statooary--"
"Good God!"
"Don't call on the Lord so loud. I reckon he's nearer than you give Him credit fer. Statooary comes high, too, but one don't want overly much of it. A leetle gives a tone to a parlour. Put down five thousand. Got it! Yas. Furniture an' fixins, lemmee see! Wal, when it comes to buyin' fixin's, Mis' Panel beats the world. Put down ten thousand more. Total, please!"
"Two hundred and fifteen thousand and one hundred dollars."
"Make out yer personal note to me an' Mis' Panel fer that amount. One day after date. An' consideration. Sunny Bushes, oil, mortgage an' all, but not the stock, I wouldn't sell any living critter to sech as you. There's pen an' ink all handy."
We heard the scratching of pen on paper.
"Ye look mighty pleased," said Uncle Jap, "an' it's not because yer gittin' a property wuth a million for a quarter its value, nor because late in the day ye've squared an ugly account, but because yer thinkin' that this yere note ain't wuth the paper it's written on. An' it ain't-yit."
Again Mrs. Panel nudged me. Her beatific expression told me more eloquently than words that her Jasper was the greatest man on earth.