'Hello, Ted!'

'Oh, mind my corn, Miss Stone. It's my belief you've got a heart of
stone, for you've trod on it again.'

'You should keep it in your pocket,' replies Miss Stone, and she goes
sturdily upstairs in her high boots.

'Tickets, please.'

She is peremptory, suspicious, and ready to hit first. She can hold her
own against ten thousand. The step of that tram-car is her Thermopylae.

Therefore, there is a certain wild romance aboard these cars--and in the
sturdy bosom of Annie herself. The time for soft romance is in the
morning, between ten o'clock and one, when things are rather slack: that
is, except market-day and Saturday. Thus Annie has time to look about
her. Then she often hops off her car and into a shop where she has spied
something, while the driver chats in the main road. There is very good
feeling between the girls and the drivers. Are they not companions in
peril, shipments aboard this careering vessel of a tram-car, for ever
rocking on the waves of a stormy land?

Then, also, during the easy hours, the inspectors are most in evidence.
For some reason, everybody employed in this tram-service is young: there
are no grey heads. It would not do. Therefore the inspectors are of the
right age, and one, the chief, is also good-looking. See him stand on a
wet, gloomy morning, in his long oil-skin, his peaked cap well down over
his eyes, waiting to board a car. His face is ruddy, his small brown
moustache is weathered, he has a faint impudent smile. Fairly tall and