Hannah was still holding the door ajar; but catching her brother’s eye she closed it. Jagger had risen too, and was standing with his back to the fire, a frown overspreading his face.
“Turned me out, Maniwel, to fend for my-sen! I mud go to t’ Union, he said, or to t’ devil!”
“Tha did right to come here, lad,” said Maniwel, unconscious of any humour in the remark. “You’ve been having a toathri words I reckon. He’ll come round, tha’ll see, after a bit. Come and sit tha down by t’ fire and tha shalt have a bit o’ supper wi’ us.”
Baldwin did not move. His eyes wandering vacantly round the room had found Jagger and were resting there with no change of expression, but with a fixity that made the young man uncomfortable.
“Take your cap off, Mr. Briggs, and come nearer t’ fire,” said Hannah—though she anticipated the action by removing it herself. “Why, you’re fair dithering wi’ cold! Come now, t’ kettle’s on t’ boil, and I’ll soon have a cup o’ tea ready.”
He suffered her to lead him to the hearth and to place him in her father’s chair; but he still stared at Jagger as if something beneath his consciousness was seeking to determine whether the young man was to be regarded as friend or foe.
Grannie looked across and smiled, for she was old enough to forget readily grievances that were not her own.
“Nay, Baldwin,” she said; “this is like owd times!”
“So it is, mother,” said her son heartily. “He’s a bit upset just now, and his breath’s been ta’en; but when he’s swallowed a drink o’ tea he’ll feel himself, you’ll see!”
Baldwin removed his eyes to Maniwel’s face, and a look of returning intelligence appeared there.