Lem bent nearer her, shaking her arm roughly.
"Ye be in Tarrytown. Did ye come here for the brat?"
"What brat be ye talkin' 'bout, Lem?"
"Our'n, Screechy. Weren't ye here lookin' for him?"
Through the darkness Lem could not see the crazed expression that flashed over Scraggy's face. She thrust her fingers in her hair and shivered. The blow of Everett's fist had banished all memory of the boy from her mind; but Lem lived there as vividly as in the olden days.
"We ain't got no boy, Lem," she said mournfully.
"Ye said we had, Screechy, and I know we have. Now, get up out of that there snow, or ye'll freeze."
The scowman helped Screech Owl to her feet, and supported her back over the graves to the toolhouse.
"Ye stay here till I come for ye, Scraggy, and don't ye dare go 'way no place. Do ye hear?"
Screech Owl uttered an obedient assent, and Lem left her with a threat that he would beat her if she moved from the spot. Then he crawled along the Brimbecomb fence, and saw Lon leaning against a tree, some distance down the road.