"I haven't the heart to feast," said Tom. "An' I hate to see ye waiting on me!" But he swallowed the food hastily, seeing that she would take no denial. Meg's sisterly attentions half touched, half irritated him just then. Anxiety always made Tom cross.
"Are ye gadding about again?" he asked, glancing at her bonnet.
"Yes, I am going to Commercial Road," said Meg. "Mr. Potter tells me that he has got some clothes belonging to Barnabas,—a jersey, and a shirt and a cloth cap. I am going to fetch them and take them to the prison to-night. They say the ward is terribly cold."
"I'll go for 'ee," said Tom, getting up and stretching himself. "What way is it, eh?"
"We will both go," said Meg. "I can't sit still." And Tom checked the remonstrance that was on his lips.
"Come along, lass," he said. "Though it's a wonder ye want my company any more! Eh, the wind's blowing wi' ice in it. Come along, if ye will."
"I think I was glad you were angry," said Meg, laughing a little unsteadily, as they went out again.
"It is good to have one of his own people with me. I couldn't have borne to be with any one but you just now. It is you who belong to him."
"Eh? Times are changed, lass," said Tom. "Barnabas would ha' gi'en his ears once to ha' heard ye say that."
"He wouldn't have let me say that I'd cry 'well done' if you revenged yourself on his enemy, though. Tom, I was mad. Forget it, please!"