"Well, I'll be hanged!" says Jim Henry. I was way past sayin' anything.
"And so," continues Philander, "the five hundred dollars' profit on the option and the five hundred dollars I lent Rat to start with made just the amount needful to pay off my mortgage. And, Squire Colcord and me paid it off this mornin'. You fellers heard the concludin' section of the ceremonies. Ebenezer's benediction was some spicy, hey!"
"But—but—why, look here, Philander," says I. "I don't understand this at all. Five hundred of that thousand was Rat's. He ain't no philanthropist; he wouldn't give it to you, unless miracles are comin' into fashion again. What—"
Foster laughed. "There is a little somethin' underneath," he says. "It's been kept pretty close, but the cat'll be out of the bag afore the day's over and, considerin' how much you two helped without meanin' to, I'd just as soon tell you. Ratty told you that his pa was cal'latin' to set him up in business, didn't he? Yes. Well, Rat's had a notion for a long spell about the business he meant to get into. There's a new sign been ordered for this shebang of mine. Here's the copy for it."
He reached under the cigar counter and held up a long piece of pasteboard. 'Twas lettered like this:
PALACE BILLIARD, POOL AND SIPIO PARLORS.
Philander Foster & Erastus Taylor,
Proprietors.
"I cal'late the old man'll disown his son when he knows it," goes on Foster, "but Rat had rather run a pool room than be rich, any day in the week. And say," he adds, "if I was you fellers I'd try to be on hand when Ebenezer fust sees the new sign. I should think you'd get consider'ble satisfaction from watchin' his face. I'm cal'latin' to, myself," says Philander Foster.