Life insurance -- Fiction; Life insurance agents -- Fiction; Short stories
This apparent reflection on her late husband did not mean that Mrs.
Moffat confined herself to the financial point of view, for she had been
a true and devoted wife, but her present need was great and her present
resources were nothing. Furthermore, Tom Moffat certainly had been
either unlucky or incapable. Mrs. Moffat, out of her affection for him,
chose to attribute their misfortunes to ill luck; another, less
considerate, might have said that Tom lacked ability and stability; no
one, however, could have said that he was neglectful or indifferent—he
did the best he could, and his family always had all he could provide.
Nevertheless, Tom Moffat had drifted from one thing to another, and his
wife and two children had drifted with him. He had worked at many
things, and in many places, and there had been times when he lacked work
entirely. So he left Mrs. Moffat practically nothing when he died.
“The neighbors was good,” continued Mrs. Moffat, “an’ I’ve got some
sewing to do. I was pretty good at that in my younger days, but the
children don’t give me time to earn much, even if the pay was what it
should be. I had to sell some furniture already, an’ I don’t know what
I’ll do. We’ve been going from bad to worse.”
“Didn’t he have no insurance?” asked the sympathetic Mrs. Crimmins,
whose husband was a member of one of the fraternal organizations.
“Not when he died,” answered Mrs. Moffat. “Didn’t I say he was unlucky?
He had insurance when it didn’t mean anything but paying out money, but
there ain’t any when the time comes for getting it back.”
“They can’t take your money an’ not give you nothing for it,” declared
Mrs. Crimmins.
“Sure they can!” said Mrs. Moffat.
“I say they can’t,” insisted Mrs. Crimmins. “There can’t nobody do that,
if you got the sense to fight. There was a lawyer once told my man so.”
“Well, Tom paid the money, an’ it ain’t come back to me, has it?”
demanded Mrs. Moffat, as if that settled the question.
“You ain’t tried to get it, that’s why!” retorted Mrs. Crimmins. “You go
see a lawyer. He’ll make ’em pay, an’ he won’t charge you a cent if he
don’t get the money. Some might, but I’ll tell you one that won’t.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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