“Yes, I do, Father,” she replied undisturbedly. “He's one you can trust, too. He's up-town at his work,” she explained to Strangeways. “He'll be back before long. He's giving us a bit of a supper in here because we're going away.”
Strangeways grew nervous again.
“But he won't go with you? T. Tembarom won't go?”
“No, no; he's not going. He'll stay here,” she said soothingly. He had evidently not observed the packed and labeled trunks when he came in. He seemed suddenly to see them now, and rose in distress.
“Whose are these? You said he wasn't going?”
Ann took hold of his arm and led him to the corner.
“They are not Mr. Tembarom's trunks,” she explained. “They are father's and mine. Look on the labels. Joseph Hutchinson, Liverpool. Ann Hutchinson, Liverpool.”
He looked at them closely in a puzzled way. He read a label aloud in a dragging voice.
“Ann Hutchinson, Liverpool. What's—what's Liverpool?
“Oh, come,” encouraged Little Ann, “you know that. It's a place in England. We're going back to England.”