"We have no checks," she answered. "We're poor people."
Hubert held his tongue after that. He said not another word until Theresa had drawn a hundred dollars from her account and handed it to him. He said "thank you" then. They were on Dyckman Street outside the Bank of Washington Heights. Hubert was uncomfortable. Suppose Lillian should walk by?
"Get in, I'll drive you home."
"No, I think I'll walk over and see Lillian. Cheer her up a little."
"You won't tell her about this, will you, Theresa? I don't want to worry her, you know, about debts we owe, and especially to you."
"Why especially to me?"
"Oh, she'd think I was awful, picking on her friends to borrow from."
Theresa laughed and walked away. Hubert decided that he didn't like her; still, he had a hundred dollars now and it felt darn nice to have it, too. Maybe before the hundred dollars dwindled he'd have a job. He'd written to Box 247X in answer to an advertisement that called for an intelligent man over thirty to fill an executive position. Everything looked quite rosy. There only remained the thinking up of a story to tell Lillian concerning the hundred dollars. Well, he'd say that the week his son had started work he had given a hundred dollars to him with which to buy a suit and a coat. Given it to him, of course, not loaned it. But the darn kid was so perky now and so tickled to death with being a business man that he had insisted upon returning it.
