The conductor frowned. "What is the lady's name and address, please,
ma'am?" he asked of Mrs. Tarbell. "I have to make a report of the
accident."

"_You_'ll find it out soon enough," said a thin man with a fresh
complexion, very silvery hair, and spectacles. "The company will not
have to wait long for the information." He looked about with a cheerful
smile, and the conductor glared at him contemptuously. "_She_ never
tried to get on while you were going," continued the thin man. "It was
your driver; that's what it was."

"The lady's name is Stiles, conductor," said Mrs. Tarbell,--"Stiles; and
she lives--dear me!--on Pulaski Street. Can I do anything for you,
doctor?"

"You might send your boy for a carriage," said the doctor, who was
engaged in removing Mrs. Stiles's shoe. "Nothing else, thank you, unless
you happen to have some lead-water about you." He gave a professional
smile, and Mrs. Stiles groaned dismally.

Mrs. Tarbell despatched John for the carriage, and then, turning, and
blushing in a way that was rather out of keeping with her tone of voice,
she said, "Now, I should be obliged if you gentlemen who saw the
accident would furnish me with your names and addresses."

On hearing this the crowd began to diminish rapidly; but the man with
the red moustache set a good example by giving his name loudly and
promptly as "Oscar B. Mecutchen, tobacconist, d'reckly opposite the City
Hall." So three or four other men allowed Mrs. Tarbell to set them down
as observers of the disaster. The gentleman in spectacles was named