`But you ought to be glad on my account,' said Tom. `I shall be twice as happy with you for a companion. Hold up your head. There! Now we go out as we ought. Not blustering, you know, but firm and confident in ourselves.'
The idea of Tom and his sister blustering, under any circumstances, was a splendid absurdity. But Tom was very far from feeling it to be so, in his excitement; and passed out at the gate with such severe determination written in his face that the porter hardly knew him again.
It was not until they had walked some short distance, and Tom found himself getting cooler and more collected, that he was quite restored to himself by an inquiry from his sister, who said in her pleasant little voice:
`Where are we going, Tom?'
`Dear me!' said Tom, stopping, `I don't know.'
`Don't you don't you live anywhere, dear?' asked Tom's sister looking wistfully in his face.
`No,' said Tom. `Not at present. Not exactly. I only arrived this morning. We must have some lodgings.'
He didn't tell her that he had been going to stay with his friend John, and could on no account think of billeting two inmates upon him, of whom one was a young lady; for he knew that would make her uncomfortable, and would cause her to regard herself as being an inconvenience to him. Neither did he like to leave her anywhere while he called on John, and told him of this change in his arrangements; for he was delicate of seeming to encroach upon the generous and hospitable nature of his friend. Therefore he said again, `We must have some lodgings, of course;' and said it as stoutly as if he had been a perfect Directory and Guide-Book to all the lodgings in London.
`Where shall we go and look for 'em?' said Tom. `What do you think?'
Tom's sister was not much wiser on such a topic than he was. So she squeezed her little purse into his coat-pocket, and folding the little hand with which she did so on the other little hand with which she clasped his arm, said nothing.
`It ought to be a cheap neighbourhood,' said Tom, `and not too far from London. Let me see. Should you think Islington a good place?'
`I should think it was an excellent place, Tom.'
`It used to be called Merry Islington, once upon a time,' said Tom. `Perhaps it's merry now; if so, it's all the better. Eh?'
`If it's not too dear,' said Tom's sister.
`Of course, if it's not too dear,' assented Tom. `Well, where is Islington? We can't do better than go there, I should think. Let's go.'
Tom's sister would have gone anywhere with him; so they walked off, arm in arm, as comfortably as possible. Finding, presently, that Islington was not in that neighbourhood, Tom made inquiries respecting a public conveyance thither: which they soon obtained. As they rode along they were very full of conversation indeed, Tom relating what had happened to him, and Tom's sister relating what had happened to her, and both finding a great deal more to say than time to say it in: for they had only just begun to talk, in comparison with what they had to tell each other, when they reached their journey's end.
`Now,' said Tom, `we must first look out for some very unpretending streets, and then look out for bills in the windows.'