"Oh, it is not that. But I have not any money."
"Not got any money!"
"They did not give me any. They gave the guard my fare to Nettleby. Mr. Sterling said I should be sure to be met."
The man went up to the driver. "I say, Bill, this child says she's got no money."
The driver turned round and looked at me. "We can call to-morrow for it; I daresay it's all right. Do you belong to the Barleys, Miss?"
"Mrs. Edwin Barley is my aunt. I am come on a visit to her."
"Oh, it's all right. Get up, Joe."
"But please," said I, stopping the man, in an agony of fear—for I could see no house or sign of one, save a small, round, low building that might contain one room—"which is Mr. Edwin Barley's? Am I to stay in the road with the boxes?"
The man laughed, said he had supposed I knew, and began shouting out, "Here; missis!" two or three times. "You see that big green gate, Miss?" he added to me. "Well, that leads up to Mr. Barley's, and that's his lodge."
A woman came out of the lodge; in answer to the shouts, and opened the gate. The man explained, put the trunks inside the gate, and the omnibus drove on.