Was his mother being this difficult intentionally? Even if she hadn't caught on to what he was trying to say, she might have imagined that he had been looking for something more as far as responses went than just yes, he did drop in.

"He came to settle our account for last month," Ford prompted, his tone moving from gentle to slightly annoyed. "Which was several galleons higher than the budget we'd discussed."

Several galleons. Not merely a few sickles here or there; not a pittance, in Ford's opinion. It was half a week's work for him, and while he might have been happy to do it if that was the only expense that needed to be provided for, it was far from that. He was still trying to juggle a few past-due accounts in order to keep any collectors from showing up unannounced on their Bartonburg doorstep; he'd pay one account by pushing another, then pay that account by pushing yet another the following month. He didn't have half a week's pay to spare, and he knew Noble didn't, either.