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.

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