Henrietta laughed ruefully. If it came to that she was herself in pawn to Miss Sue.
“'Cause she's got first rights to me,” Lem said. “Unless pop gets me back from her. Say—”
“What, Lem?”
“I guess maybe pop ain't goin' to try very hard to get me back. I guess maybe he don't want to bother about it. I guess, if the Jews have got the upper hand of the junk business everywhere, pop'll go into the saint business somewhere again. So he won't want me then. So I guess, if he don't send me word pretty soon, I 'll go somewhere else. You know—where there ain't no old aunt that wants to jail me.”
“You mean run away, Lem?”
“Yes. I can get a job, I guess, junking. I don't mind Jews. They cook pretty good. They don't make you wash the dishes, anyway.” Henrietta put her arm around the boy, but he did not like it and squirmed, and she released him.
“How much does your father owe Miss Susan?” she asked.
“I don't know. A lot, I guess. Only he paid her some. He owes her what's left of what he owed her. Lots of money, I guess.”
“A hundred? Two hundred?”
“I guess so. I don't know.”