“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.

The Harvard junior, who was carrying her umbrella, protested:  “What’s the use.  Miss Williams?  He’ll make it up before he gets to Scollay Square, you may be sure.  Those chaps don’t lose anything.  Why, the other day, I gave one a quarter and he went off as cool as you please.  ‘Where’s my change?’ said I.  ‘You gave me a nickel,’ said he.  And there wasn’t anybody to swear that I didn’t except myself, and I didn’t count.”

“But that doesn’t make any difference,” insisted the girl warmly.  “Because one conductor was dishonest, we needn’t be.  I beg your pardon, Frank, but it does seem to me just stealing.”

“Oh, come along!” said her cousin, with an easy laugh.  “I guess the West End Corporation won’t go without their dinners to-morrow.  Here, Maidie, here’s the ill-gotten fifty cents. I think you ought to treat us all after the concert; still, I won’t urge you.  I wash my hands of all responsibility.  But I do wish you hadn’t such an unpleasant conscience.”

Maidie flushed under the sting of his cousinly rudeness, but she went on quietly with the rest.  It was evident that any attempt to overtake the car was out of the question.

“Did you notice his number, Frank?” she asked, suddenly.

“No, I never thought of it” said Frank, stopping short.  “However, I probably shouldn’t make any complaint if I had.  I shall forget all about it tomorrow.  I find it’s never safe to let the sun go down on my wrath.  It’s very likely not to be there the next day.”

“I wasn’t thinking of making a complaint,” said Maidie; but the two young men were enjoying the small joke too much to notice what she said.

The great doorway of Music Hall was just ahead.  In a moment the party were within its friendly shelter, stamping off the snow.  The girls were adjusting veils and hats with adroit feminine touches; the pretty chaperon was beaming approval upon them, and the young men were taking off their wet overcoats, when Maidie turned again in sudden desperation.

“Mr. Harris,” she said, rather faintly, for she did not like to make herself disagreeable, “do you suppose that car comes right back from Scollay Square?”

“What car?” asked Walter Harris, blankly.  “Oh, the one we came in?  Yes, I suppose it does.  They’re running all the time, anyway.  Why, you are not sick, are you, Miss Williams?”

There was genuine concern in his tone.  This girl, with her sweet, vibrant voice, her clear gray eyes, seemed very charming to him.  She wasn’t beautiful, perhaps, but she was the kind of girl he liked.  There was a steady earnestness in the gray eyes that made him think of his mother.