“Well,” Susan exclaimed bitterly to her brother, “you're making a nice sort of saint, ain't you? What's all this ruckus about, I want to know? What you been doing this time?”
Lem, peering wide-eyed from behind his aunt, felt his conscience at that moment as he had never felt it before. It felt as big as a house. He turned to slip quietly away, but Officer Schulig saw him.
“Shtop him! Shtop dot boy!” he cried, and sprang for Lem, but not loosening his hold on Harvey's arm. The handcuffs clinked on Harvey's wrists, but Harvey was too heavy to be jerked about casually. His hat fell to the porch floor.
“Dod-baste you!” he exclaimed, and jabbed Schulig with his elbow.
Miss Susan put her hand on Lem's arm pro-tectingly.
“Now, don't you be afraid, Lemuel,” she said. “Nobody's going to harm you whilst I'm here, I tell them that! What you want, Rudolf Schulig? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, scaring the wits out of a poor child, I won't be a mite surprised if Harvey has got into some shape of devilment, for I will say to his face I've been expecting it this long time, but this boy never did a mean thing, I 'll warrant.”
“Does he or don'dt he, is none of my business,” said Schulig. “Der chutch makes dot oudt. Chutch says it, und I go und do it.”
“Judge who?”
“Chutch Bruce,” said Schulig. “Says to me der chutch, 'Schulig, go und get me Harfey Redding und such a boy is called Lempuel Redding.' Und I get them. Else is not my business. I go und get them.”
“But you can't. You have to have a warrant,” said Henrietta. “Is n't that what you have to have—a warrant? Have you got a warrant?”