Next three giggling girls with two admirers, glorious in white satin neckties, all on their way to the Gayety, all talking together with their highkeyed voices, and each of the three determined not to be the one neglected in the attentions of the two. Great frolic, laughter, screaming on the high key, and rushing back and forward, before they determined whether they would sit all on one side, or three on one seat and two on the other, and in the latter case, which girl should be the third. Riot and screaming not much silenced by the entrance of three old gentlemen, also in white neckties, on their way to the Thursday Club. Two paper-hangers, late from an extra job, have to place their pails on the front platform, and stand there with their long boards. Next comes a frightened shop-girl from the country. It is her first experiment in going down to the city at night, and long ago she wished she had not tried it. But Bertha hands her in so pleasantly, and insists on making a seat for her so bravely that the poor, pale thing looks all gratitude as she cuddles back in the corner and makes herself as small as she can. And at last there are so many that poor Bertha must force herself to go through the car and take up the fares. Nor is it so hard as it seemed. Some give unconsciously. Some are surprised, and dig out the money from deep recesses, as if it were an outrage that they should be expected to pay. One old gentleman even demands change for five dollars. But Bertha was all ready for that. She is more ready for the hard exigencies than she is for the easy ones. And when she comes to the front platform she taps the two paper-hangers quite bravely, and has quite a gruff voice as she bids Max to be sure and stop at the South Kensington crossing before they come to the gutter. By and by, as they come nearer the city proper, the car and platforms fill up. Bertha pushes through on her second and third tour of collection, and at last, at a stop, runs forward to her husband. "Be sure you stop at Highgate. I shall be inside. But all these theatre people leave there." This aloud, and then she leaned down to whisper, "There are three men smoking on the platform, and they make me sick. What can I do?" "I should like to thrash them," said Max, in a rage. "But you must bully them yourself. I'll stand by you, and will call an officer if there is a row." Bertha gained new life, worked steadily back through the crowded passage, opened the door, and spoke:-- "Smoking not permitted, gentlemen. Lady faint inside." Without a whisper the three men emptied their pipes and pocketed them, and Bertha had won her first great victory. The second never costs so much as the first, nor is it ever so remembered. "Could you know--should you know--can you tell--about when we come to 97 Van Tromp Street, and would you kindly stop there?" This was the entreating request of the poor, frightened shop-girl.