The man came in. He was clean, but still unshaven, and his clothes looked as though he had been lying down. He looked round the room anxiously.
“Where has he gone?” he demanded in an overstrung voice. “Where is he?” He caught at Ann's sleeve in a sudden access of nervous fear. “What shall I do if he's gone?”
“'Ere, 'ere,” he said, “don't you go catchin' hold of ladies. What do you want?”
“I've forgotten his name now. What shall I do if I can't remember?” faltered Strangeways.
“There, there, now! You've not really forgotten it. It's just slipped your memory. You want Mr. Tembarom--Mr. T. Tembarom.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you. That's it. Yes, Tembarom. He said T. Tembarom. He said he wouldn't throw me over.”
Little Ann led him to a seat and made him sit down. She answered him with quiet decision.
“Well, if he said he wouldn't, he won't. Will he, Father?”
“No, he won't.” There was rough good nature in Hutchinson's admission. He paused after it to glance at Ann. “You think a lot of that lad, don't you, Ann?”
“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.”
“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.”
He stood and gazed fixedly before him. Then he began to rub his fingers across his forehead. Ann knew the straining look in his eyes. He was making that horrible struggle to get back somewhere through the darkness which shut him in. It was so painful a thing to see that even Hutchinson turned slightly away.
