"Marshdale! Why, you be at Marshdale," returned the boy, in sulky tones.
"I mean Marshdale House."
"Marshdale House?—That be my Lord Level's place," said the boy, still more sulkily. "It be a matter of two mile."
"Are there any carriages to be hired?"
"There's one—a fly; he waits here when the train comes in."
"Where is it to be found?"
"It stands in the road, yonder. But if ye wants the fly, it's of no use wanting. It have been booked by them folks squabbling over their boxes: they writed here yesterday for it to be ready for 'em."
The more civil porter now came up, and the lady appealed to him. He confirmed the information that there was only this one conveyance to be had, and the family had secured it. Perhaps, he added, the lady might like to wait until they had done with it.
The lady shook her head impatiently, and decided to walk. "Can you come with me to carry my bag and to show me the way?" she asked of the surly boy.
The surly boy, willing or unwilling, had to acquiesce, and they set off to walk. Upon emerging from the station, he came to a standstill.