"We ought to have
been looking out ourselves! Six of us, and we went by without a
thought! It is all Mrs. Tirrell's fault! She shouldn't have been so
entertaining!"
The young matron dimpled and blushed. "That's charming of you, Maidie,"
she said, gathering up her silk skirts as she prepared to step down
into the pond before her. "The compliment makes up for the blame. But
how it snows!"
"It doesn't matter. We all have gaiters on," returned Maidie Williams,
undisturbed.
"Fares, please!" said the conductor stolidly.
Frank Armstrong thrust his gloved hand deep into his pocket with angry
vehemence. "There's your money," he said, "and be quick about the
change, will you? We've lost time enough!"
The man counted out the change with stiff, red fingers, closed his lips
firmly as if to keep back an obvious rejoinder, rang up the six fares
with careful accuracy, and gave the signal to go ahead. The car went on
into the drifting storm.
Armstrong laughed shortly as he rapidly counted the bits of silver
lying in his open palm. He turned instinctively, but two or three cars
were already between him and the one he was looking for.
"The fellow must be an imbecile," he said, rejoining the group on the
crossing. "He's given me back a dollar and twenty cents, and I handed
him a dollar bill."
"Oh, can't you stop him?" cried Maidie Williams, with a backward step
into the wet street.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66