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?"