“Dear Lem,” he read. “I'm going on from here because the Jews have the junk business all tied up here from what I can see, and it's no place for me. No telling where I 'll land up at. You better go back to your Aunt Susan and wait until I send for you. Maybe it won't be as long as it looks like now.”
“And the name? The name?” cried Shuder. “Redding; it looks like Henry Redding, or something like that.”
“Well, I won't go back,” said Lem. “I don't care what he says. I won't go back to that old aunt. I don't care if I starve to death, I won't go back to her.”
Shuder had heard about Miss Susan on the way down from Riverbank, for Lem had been full of a sense of injustice and had had to talk to some one about it or burst. Lem and his troubles were none of Shuder's affair, but, on the other hand, Saint Harvey and the “paper” were, and Lem was Shuder's only link with Saint Harvey now.
“Do I ask you to go back by her, Lem'vel?” Shuder demanded. “No! But why should you vorry? Ain't I got two houses? Ain't I got two chunkyards? Ain't I got plenty room? I esk you, come by me awhile, Lem'vel.”
“Say, what you mean?” Lem asked. “You want me to go an' live at your house?”
“Sure!” said Shuder.
Lem looked at the Jew.
“All right,” he said. “Until I get a word from pop. I bet you don't have so many dishes to wash, anyway.”
Shuder raised a hand.