The train had stopped at a station and Mrs.Medlock was shaking her.
"You have had a sleep!" she said.

"It's time to open your eyes! We're at Thwaite Station and we've got a long drive before us." Mary stood up and tried to keep her eyes open while Mrs.Medlock collected her parcels.

The little girl did not offer to help her, because in India native servants always picked up or carried things and it seemed quite proper that other people should wait on one.
The station was a small one and nobody but themselves seemed to be getting out of the train.

The station-master spoke to Mrs.Medlock in a rough, good-natured way, pronouncing his words in a queer broad fashion which Mary found out afterward was Yorkshire.
"I see tha's got back," he said.

"An' tha's browt th' young 'un with thee." "Aye, that's her," answered Mrs.Medlock, speaking with a Yorkshire accent herself and jerking her head over her shoulder toward Mary.
"How's thy Missus ?" "Well enow.