necessary. When I went to her I didn't have the boy."
Peewee stiffened. The boy? That was himself. Lampert had told his father he was here, or at least had told enough so that his father must suspect that he was here. Why had he told him that? He was no longer so sure of Lampert's kindness.
There was again silence. Peewee thought that Lampert was expecting a reply; his voice came again presently.
"See that you get me right," it said. "I have the boy."
When there was still no answer, his voice went on gloatingly. "What was the second of those things you mentioned? How much do I want to let this rest? I want whatever ought to be coming to the boy. I want a home for him and for his grandparents—that's me and Mrs. Lampert. I want credit at the grocery. I want a car for him and me and her to go driving in."
Peewee comprehended. It was not Lampert who would give him the things; it was his father whom Lampert expected would give them.
