"Ye may well blush when ye turn devil's advocate," he remarked. "I wonder ye dare stand up for him; only ye've allus got Barnabas to back ye now. Ye weren't so charitably disposed on Saturday," pursued Tom, looking rather hard at her.
"Eh, my lass!" said Barnabas. "Did Tom bully ye so that ye didn't dare say what ye liked when I wasn't by?"
He smiled, and Meg laughed, relieved at the change of subject. "Yes," she said; "Tom beat me with a poker and threw boots at me—whenever he had the chance!"
"That's why she's glad to see ye," said Tom coolly. "She's larnt as a husband may be useful—she missed ye on occasions."
"No, I didn't," said Meg. "When one wants any one much, one doesn't want him 'on occasions'; one wants him every time one draws one's breath."
"Well, he ain't much to boast on, now ye've got him," said Tom. "I say, lad, come back wi' me to-morrow, and shake the dust o' this ant-hill off your feet and pick up your flesh again. Ye'd do to scare the crows at present!"
"I'll get all right again. I'm tougher than ye think," said the preacher. "But I wouldn't be able to do farm work for a bit, and I ain't goin' to live on dad—no, not for a day. It's natural like that he shouldn't ha' been sure o' me, for he never did think much o' me. Happen, if I'd been hanged, he'd ha' thought I desarved it; but I'll not take help from him."
"Did not your father believe in you?" cried Meg. "Oh, Barnabas, I can never understand it—he is so good to me always."
"So he is," said the preacher. "I'm beholden to dad for that anyway."
After supper, when the two men sat together, Tom recurred to that subject.