“You leave me alone,” Lem sobbed, doubling his kicks and jerking to set himself free. Miss Susan, as Freeman tightened his grip, felt in the boy's pockets, bringing forth a silver dollar, but no more.
“Lem! Lem, dear!”
The boy looked up. Henrietta was standing in the doorway, her voice commanding but soothing. In the instant before Freeman or Susan could turn their heads toward her, she closed her eyes and stiffened her body. At the moment Lem was too angry to heed her, but, in another moment, he felt that his struggles were useless, and he grasped what she meant. Suddenly he grew white and rigid and lay in Freeman's arms, stiffly inert.
“I was afraid of that! I was afraid of that!” Henrietta said, and she went to take Lem from Freeman.
Miss Susan, one hand comforting the side of her face where one of Lem's blows had fallen, scowled at the boy.
“The thief!” she exclaimed angrily. “The miserable, low, thieving brat! He robbed my purse. I 'll show him! I 'll see that he gets what he deserves now! Fit or no fit he does not stay in my house another hour.”
Henrietta paid no attention to her. Lorna was at the door now, a robe thrown around her.
“What was it?” she asked. “What did he do?”
“He stole from me,” said Miss Susan. “He robbed my purse. And out he goes!”
“But not to-night,” said Henrietta, braving her. “Not while he is like this.”