The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. While he was dragged along in the manner just described, Thames looked around to ascertain, if possible, where he was; for he did not put entire faith in Jonathan's threat of sending him to the round-house, and apprehensive of something even worse than imprisonment. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow.
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