It was frightfully stuffy inside and most of
the newly received passengers seemed to agree with her that the platform
was a pleasanter place to stay; which did very well until the next stop,
where half a dozen more prospective passengers were waiting. They were
in a hurry, too, since it had begun in very downright fashion to rain.
The conductor had been chanting, "Up in the car, please," in a
perfunctory cry all along. But at this crisis, his voice got a new
urgency. "Come on, now," he proclaimed, "you'll have to get inside!"
From the step the new arrivals pushed, the conductor pushed, and finally
he was able to give the signal for starting the car. The obvious
necessity of making room for those who'd be waiting at the next corner,
kept him at the task of herding them inside and the sheep-like docility
of an American crowd helped him.
Regretfully, with the rest, Rose made her way to the door.
"Fare, please," he said sharply as she came along.
She told him she had paid her fare, but for some reason, perhaps because
he was tired at the end of a long run, perhaps because he saw some one
else he suspected of being a spotter, he elected not to believe her.
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