"I ain't a-goin' to take you," said her hostess, unamiably, "it's Uzziah—Uzziah!" and she went to an open stairway leading from the kitchen.
"What cher want?" came back, in an impatient tone.
"You're wanted. Passenger for the station."
A boy speedily appeared. 'Tilda Jane was not prepossessed in his favour as he came lumbering down the staircase, and she was still less so when he stood before her. He had his mother's sharp face, lean head, and cunning eyes, and he was so alarmingly dirty that she found herself wondering whether he had ever touched water to his face and hands since the winter began.
"Go hitch up an' take this gal to the station," said his mother, in feeble command.
He stood scrutinising 'Tilda Jane. "Who fur?"
"Bob Lucas."
"How much'll he gimme?"
"I dunno. He'll pay when he comes out."