"So all the other roosters think," the woman let fall with a tolerant
smile, while she diligently searched in her shabby purse for five cents.

Claire, in the doorway, lingered.

"Step right along in, my dear! Don't wait for me," her friend advised,
closing her teeth on a dime, as she still pursued an elusive nickel.
"Step right along in, and sit down anywheres, an' if there ain't
nowheres to sit, why, just take a waltz-step or two in the direction o'
some of them elegant gen'lemen's feet, occupyin' the places meant for
ladies, an' if they don't get up for love of _you_, they'll get up for
love of their shins."

Still the girl did not pass on.

"Fare, please!" There was a decided touch of asperity in the
conductor's tone. He glared at Claire almost menacingly.

Her lip trembled, the quick tears sprang to her eyes. She hesitated,
swallowed hard, and then brought it out with a piteous gulp.

"I _had_ my fare--'twas in my glove. It must have slipped out. It's
gone--lost--and--"

A tug at the signal-strap was the conductor's only comment. He was
stopping the car to put her off, but before he could carry out his
purpose the woman had dropped her dime into the box with a sounding
click.