"My name is Steve Benson. Happen ta hes heard tell o' my sister Sarah?"
"No, I think not."
"Nor of Joyce Benson?"
"No."
"No, that's likely enough. Master Burley isn't one to talk about his hands, or his business. He hes hed a sight o' trouble lately."
"Yes. Can I do anything for you?"
"Ay, if ta could spare a shilling. I'm going home when t' sun sets, and it would make it easier to do. Here's a bonny lot of ferns. I'll give them to thee and welcome."
"Thank you, Steve Benson, and here is half a crown. I think you are what wise men call a philosopher. I have got half a crown's worth from you." She put the coin into his out-stretched brown palm, and took the nodding ferns and a great handful of bluebells he gave her, and went on her way, wonderfully cheered.
After this she met Steve on the common, or in the wood, several times, and she made a point of carrying a piece of money in her pocket for him. He always took it with a frank pleasure, and he generally had some bit of a curiosity to give in return, a petrified shell, or a queer bird's
