His face fell. "Not to tell of me?" he gasped.
"To tell of you! What should I have to tell of you?"
"About that there half-crown. You give him to me, mind; I never asked. You can't see the station-master if you try: he's a gone to his tea."
"Oh, I won't tell of that," said Lady Level. "I am going to the village, not to the station."
"They'd make such a row," said the boy, somewhat relieved. "The porter'd be mad that it wasn't given to him; he might get me sent away perhaps for't. It's such a lot, you see: a whole half-crown: when anything is given, it's a sixpence. But 'tain't nothing that's given mostly; nothing."
The intense resentment thrown into the last word made Lady Level laugh.
"It's a sight o' time, weeks and weeks, since I've had anything given me afore, barring the three penny pieces from Mr. Snow," went on the grumbling boy. "And what's three penny pieces?"
"Mr. Snow?" repeated Lady Level. "Who is he?"
"He is Lord Level's head gardener, he be. He comes up here to the station one day, not long afore you come down; and he collars the fly for the next down-train. The next down-train comes in and brings my lord and a lady with him. Mr. Snow, he puts the lady inside, and he puts what luggage there were outside. 'Twasn't much, and I helps him, and he dives into his pockets and brings out three penny pieces. And I'll swear that for weeks afore nobody had never given me a single farthing."
Lady Level changed colour. "What's your name?" she suddenly asked the boy, to cover her confusion.