Elizabeth’s eyes were wide open now, but she considered a moment before she began to speak.
“We can’t do that,” she said slowly at last. “We’re out of debt, except your personal note for the five hundred and the one for the team. It won’t do to mortgage again.”
“But we’ll have to mortgage, with the crop short, and all those cattle!” he exclaimed.
“Sell a part of them as grass cattle, and use the money to buy corn for the rest,” she advised.
“Grass cattle are soft and don’t weigh down like corn-fed steers. It would be sheer waste,” John insisted.
Elizabeth understood that right now they were to test their strength. She thought it over carefully, not speaking till she had decided what to say. The old path of mortgages and interest meant the old agony of dread of pay-day and the heart eaten out of every day of their existence, and yet she was careful not to rush into discussion. Her voice became more quiet as she felt her way in the debate.
“You are right as far as you go, grass cattle do not sell for as much, but, on the other hand, a loan means interest, and there is always a chance of the loss of a steer or two and then the profit is gone and you have your mortgage left. Luther said yesterday that they had black-leg over north of home, and you know how contagious it is.”
“Oh, Luther! Of course Luther knows all there is to know about anything,” sneered her husband, to whom Luther was a sore point just now.
Elizabeth realized her mistake in mentioning Luther’s name to John almost before it was out of her mouth. John’s instincts made him bluster and get off the subject of business and on to that of personalities at once. She did not reply to the taunt, but went quietly back to the point of business.
“The price of corn,” she said with perfect control, “will go way up after this dry weather, but the price of beef doesn’t always rise in proportion. Besides that, this is a bad year to get tied up in the money market.”