Lem watched her uneasily. She drew on her shoes with the brisk movements of one who knows exactly what she has planned to do and how she has planned to do it. She drew the shoe-laces taut with little jerks that made the metal tips snap against the shoes. “Are you going to wale me?” asked Lem. “No matter. You'll know soon enough.” “I ain't afraid of being waled,” said Lem. Henrietta was snapping the hooks of her corset now, not looking at Lem. There was a businesslike briskness in the way she snapped hook after hook and reached for her skirt that frightened Lem. “Well, anyway, you might tell a feller what you're goin' to do to him,” he said uneasily. “Never mind,” Henrietta said, and jerked the band of the skirt two inches to the left around her waist. She reached for her jacket and thrust her arms into the sleeves, reaching for her hat almost the same instant. “Well, what do I care who knows where I put the money?” said Lem. “I made her mad, all right. I wa'n't afraid to say where I put it. You don't need to think I'm afraid to.” Henrietta jabbed a pin into her hat and put her hand on the doorknob. “Where did you put it?” she demanded. “I put it in her shoe.” “What shoe?” “Her shoe in her closet.” “Her Sunday shoes? The shoes with the cloth tops?” “Yes, mam.” “All of it?” Lem nodded an affirmative. “Very well,” said Henrietta. “You'll stay here; understand?” “Yes, mam,” said Lem meekly. “I'll stay.” “See that you do, if you know what is good for you,” said Henrietta, and she went into the hall, closing the door behind her, but leaving it unlocked. She knew Lem would not try to run away that night. CHAPTER XVI It may be doubted if Henrietta would ever have worked as hard to save herself as she worked that night with Miss Susan to save Lem. At the end of the long plea for the boy, the best Miss Susan would say was that if he was not a thief he was an imp of Satan and she wished she had never set eyes on him. She supposed, however, she would have to keep him for, goodness knew! it was the only way she would ever get her money out of that no-account brother of hers. Henrietta went back to her room utterly weary and disheartened with the world in general. Lem she sent back to his own room with a warning that he was to try no escape business. The boy was, indeed, too sleepy now to want anything but sleep. He went staggering to his room, and it would be hard to tell whether he or Henrietta was asleep the sooner, for she threw herself on her bed as she was, only removing her hat and jacket, and she did not awaken until the sun on her face and the discomfort of her shoes brought her to herself again. She opened her eyes with a sense that everything was going wrong in her world.