“No, mother,” said Maggie, in a low tone, like a moan. “I will never go in.”
“Then wait for me outside. I’ll get ready and come with you.”
When his mother appeared with her bonnet on, Tom came out to her in the passage, and put money into her hands.
“My house is yours, mother, always,” he said. “You will come and let me know everything you want; you will come back to me.”
Poor Mrs Tulliver took the money, too frightened to say anything. The only thing clear to her was the mother’s instinct that she would go with her unhappy child.
Maggie was waiting outside the gate; she took her mother’s hand and they walked a little way in silence.
“Mother,” said Maggie, at last, “we will go to Luke’s cottage. Luke will take me in. He was very good to me when I was a little girl.”
“He’s got no room for us, my dear, now; his wife’s got so many children. I don’t know where to go, if it isn’t to one o’ your aunts; and I hardly durst,” said poor Mrs Tulliver, quite destitute of mental resources in this extremity.
Maggie was silent a little while, and then said,—
“Let us go to Bob Jakin’s, mother; his wife will have room for us, if they have no other lodger.”