“I don’t rightly know, ma’am. He wanted me to give him my bandbox for his, and said Mr. Maidstone had sent him. But I couldn’t, you know!—except he asked you first. You did pay for it—didn’t you, ma’am?”
“Of course I did, or he wouldn’t have let me take it away! But if you don’t know what it means, I do.—You haven’t been in that shop long, have you?”
“Not quite a month, ma’am.”
“I thought so!”
She said no more, and Clare followed in silence, wondering not a little. When they reached the station, she took the bandbox, and looked at the boy. He returned her gaze, his gray eyes wondering. She searched her purse for a shilling, but, unable to find one, was not sorry to give him a half-crown instead.
“You had better not mention that I gave you anything,” she said.
“I will not, ma’am, except they ask me,” he answered.
“But,” he added, his face in a glow of delight, “is all this for me?”
“To be sure,” she answered. “I am much obliged to you for—carrying my parcel. Be a honest boy whatever comes, and you will not repent it.”
“I will try, ma’am,” said Clare.