“An' me tryin' to be a saint,” complained Harvey. “Me settin' there an' tryin' to be a saint. It ain't no wonder I got mad at him. Who ever heard of a saint gettin' arrested for all them things, I'd like to know? It ain't right. It ain't normal.”
“But receiving stolen goods!” exclaimed Gay. “That's serious.”
“Und mebby for conspiracies together to have such stealings go ahead,” said Schulig. “I bet you he gets yet into a blace I don't poke my face into! Chail. Goundy chail!”
“Don't laugh, Gay,” Henrietta urged. “This is serious. What is it you want here, Mr. Schulig? I suppose you want Miss Redding to furnish bail.”
“Bail is none of my business,” said Schulig.
“No; better I like it should he rot by der chail. I come for der boy.”
“The boy? Not Lem!” Henrietta exclaimed. “What did Lem do?”
“Beddy larceny,” said Officer Schulig. “A schunk of lead so big as my head he stole. From off of Moses Schuder, out from his chunkyard. Und sold it to his papa here. Yes!”
“Oh! just junk!” said Henrietta, greatly relieved. After all boys will be boys, and she had been a teacher too long to have a violent belief in the innate depravity of boys who steal junk. She inclined to the belief that no one could expect old iron, copper bottoms of wash-boilers, and other cashable metals to be entirely safe unless nailed down and bolted fast, when boys were around. The thoughts of a small-town boy turn to junk as the sparks fly upward. “Is that all!” she said.
When the group reached the house Susan Redding was at the door, for Lorna had seen the four approaching and had called her.