Henrietta took his hand. She spoke kindly. “Yes; you must tell me, Lem,” she urged. “Did you steal it?”
“No, I did n't steal it.”
“That's honest-to-God, cross-your-heart, Lem?”
“Yes. I did n't steal it an' anybody that says I did is an old liar, that's what she is, an' I don't care who knows it. She's a mean, old liar—”
“Wait, Lem. Maybe nobody is a liar. Can I believe that you did n't steal it? Can I bet my bottom dollar on that, Lem?”
“Yes; you bet you can bet your bottom dollar on it. You can bet your boots on it. I don't steal—only old junk. I don't steal money—”
“No, I know you don't, Lem. But Miss Susan found the money in your pocket, did n't she?”
“I don't care where she found it. I don't care what that old devil finds. I 'll get even with her!”
“Did she find it in your pocket, Lem?”
“Yes. Only that old Alberson had to hold me. I bet if he had n't held me—”