“All right, give me some kale and I’ll blow.”
“I’ll give you nothing.”
“But look it, Aunt Gracia, I’ve got to have a place to sleep and eat, haven’t I? And the governor’ll be sore if he comes back and knows I asked you for dough and you gave me the icy stare.”
Biting her lip, the woman trailed across the room and stood by the window, looking out. After all, the boy’s father would reimburse her and it was better than having him remain under the same roof with Madelaine.
“How much do you want?” she demanded.
“Oh, a thousand will do! Till I need more.” And the youngster laughed.
“A thousand dollars! Are you crazy?”
“No, but if I set the figure lower you’d fork it across. And I’d rather stick around.”
Gracia sat down at her desk, wrote a check and ripped it from the check book.
“Now get out!” she ordered.