“You seem to like it,” said Riderhood.
He took no notice, but stood looking down, as if he had not heard the words. There was a very dark expression on his face; an expression that the Rogue found it hard to understand. It was fierce, and full of purpose; but the purpose might have been as much against himself as against another. If he had stepped back for a spring, taken a leap, and thrown himself in, it would have been no surprising sequel to the look. Perhaps his troubled soul, set upon some violence, did hover for the moment between that violence and another.
“Didn’t you say,” asked Riderhood, after watching him for a while with a sidelong glance, “as you had come back for a couple o’ hours’ rest?” But, even then he had to jog him with his elbow before he answered.
“Eh? Yes.”
“Hadn’t you better come in and take your couple o’ hours’ rest?”
“Thank you. Yes.”
With the look of one just awakened, he followed Riderhood into the lock-house, where the latter produced from a cupboard some cold salt beef and half a loaf, some gin in a bottle, and some water in a jug. The last he brought in, cool and dripping, from the river.
“There, t’otherest,” said Riderhood, stooping over him to put it on the table. “You’d better take a bite and a sup, afore you takes your snooze.” The draggling ends of the red neckerchief caught the schoolmaster’s eyes. Riderhood saw him look at it.
“Oh!” thought that worthy. “You’re a-taking notice, are you? Come! You shall have a good squint at it then.” With which reflection he sat down on the other side of the table, threw open his vest, and made a pretence of re-tying the neckerchief with much deliberation.