What could be done with such a man? There was nothing Henrietta could do. She had no money to repay what he had paid Miss Susan, and she did not know where Freeman had gone. Nevada might mean Reno, but old Judge Bruce was no fool, and Nevada might not even mean Nevada—probably did not. She stopped short where she stood. Johnnie tipped his hat politely and went on.
Later that day Henrietta sat in the cool parlor of the boarding-house trying to think what to do. She had gone over her slender assets and had found them all too scant to permit her to leave Riverbank, taking Lem or not taking him. To her came Miss Susan bearing a soiled envelope.
“A boy fetched this. He said there was n't any answer,” Miss Susan said. “He was that Swatty boy, and I gave him a good piece of my mind about thieving, while I had the chance.”
Henrietta tore open the envelope.
The note was from Harvey Redding. It asked her to come, if she could, to see him, at the junkyard of Moses Shuder. “About Lemuel,” the note said. Henrietta went.
She found the late saint in the junkyard tossing old iron into Shuder's wagon.
“I would n't have asked you to come here,” Harvey said, wiping his face, which was streaked with perspiration and rust, “only on account of Lem yonder. Lem's scared. Lem's afraid, now that I've come back, his aunt'll get word that I'm back an' come an' fetch him an' jail him. He's mortal afraid of that aunt, Lem is. Don't know as I blame him so dod-basted much, either. I'm sort of scared of her myself.”
“No reason, Mr. Redding,” Henrietta said. “She's cross—sometimes—but her heart is kind.”
“Lem don't feel so,” said Harvey. “Seems like she's dead set against Lem. Well, what I asked you to come for—seein' how I was scared to go up to Susan's house—was about somethin' Lem said about you wantin' to have him. I don't know but I'm willin'—”
“But don't you want him yourself?” asked Henrietta with a leap of her heart.