“Not if my wife put the evil eye on her,” said Simple. “Joyce is a good girl, but she can look so-ooo-oo-o mean at times that even me, her lawful wedded husband, am scared to look back at her. Joyce can keep Minnie out of our house. Only reason she has not done so up to now is because Joyce tries to treat the woman right since Minnie is my kinfolks. But Minnie is driving kinship in the ground. Minnie loves money more than she does me, else she would not bug me with that word so much. From the first time I laid eyes on Cousin Minnie she needed money. First, money to stay in town after she got here, then money to buy something to eat (which is what she calls drink), then money to pay for a job at the employment office, then money to get out to her new job in the subway, then money to get another job after she quit the first job because the lady who hired her did not like frozen food, and Minnie said she did not intend to shell no fresh peas when peas come already shelled frozen. Now Minnie wants money to keep from getting put out in the street because she is three weeks behind on her rent. Minnie thinks I am a Relief Station, else God—and I ain’t nothing but a man, a working man, and a colored man at that. Do you believe Minnie’s in her right mind?”

“I think she is simply uninformed as to our habitual state of impecunity in Harlem,” I said. “Many newly arrived immigrants from the South think all New Yorkers are rich. They don’t realize that most of us live from day to day, from hand to mouth.”

“I have tried to break that sad news to Minnie,” said Simple, “but it does not seem to penetrate. I have put my hand in my pocket and turned it inside out to show her that my pockets are empty. I have told Minnie that my wife and me runs on a budget and that the budget runs out before the week does. But I want to tell you one thing, cousin or not, the next time Minnie asks me for money, I am going to sic Joyce on her, and I bet you Minnie will understand then!”

“Why would you bring Joyce into your family affairs?” I asked.