"No. I just hadn't gotten a check cashed." He bent over his shoes and yanked violently at the laces.
"Oh, horse-radish. You're strapped, aren't you? Is that why you wouldn't lend Billy or Mary Jackson any money?"
He straightened up and said, "Well, to tell you the truth, Lil, I am just a little bit short."
"How short?"
"Well, pretty short."
"How short?"
"Well, I can foot another month's rent here and feed us. Oh, I got about a hundred and seventy-five dollars."
"And two cars," Lillian reminded him. "You can always sell those."
He laughed loudly and shook his head. "Don't you worry, Lil," he said. "It won't come to that. We won't have to sell the cars."
"Why not?"
"Say, what do you think I am? A cripple? Kid, I can get a job tomorrow that will keep us sitting pretty for the rest of our lives."
"What happened to your money, Hubert? Did you—did you invest it badly?" That was an intelligent question. Showed she knew something and that he could talk to her freely.
"No, I invested it swell. We spent it."
"Spent it? How much did you have? What did we spend?"
He thought a moment. "Oh, about twenty-five thousand dollars," he said carelessly.
