"He needs somebody to look after him," she said, sharply.

"Thinkin' of undertakin' the work?... Favor undertakin' it?"

She looked at him a moment speculatively. "I might do worse. He'd be
decent and kind--and I've got brains. I could make something of him...."

"Um!... Ovid's up and made somethin' of himself."

"What?" She spoke quickly, sharply.

"A thief."

Scattergood glanced sidewise to study the effect of this curt
announcement, but her face was expressionless, rather too
expressionless.

"That's why you're looking for him?"

"Yes."

"To put him in jail?"

"What would _you_ calc'late on doin' if you was me?"

"Before I did anything," she said, slowly, "I'd make up my mind if he
was a thief, or if he just happened to take whatever it was he has
taken.... I'd be sure he was _bad_. If I made up my mind he'd just been
green and a fool--well, I'd see to it he never was that kind of a fool