"Don't mention it, madam," deprecated Jimmy Knight, throwing in his clutch. The car skidded slightly on the arch of the pavement, but ran smooth and straight, as the engine, in the street-centre, picked up speed. Jimmy's gloved finger mechanically "gave her gas" or advanced the spark, as occasion required. Outside, the rain poured steadily, misting the mica peep-holes in the storm-curtains and half-blinding the windshield. The car stopped frequently for additional passengers; and soon the tonneau was filled with dour figures in wet raincoats that rustled shrilly as the owners moved, watching in a fidget for home streets. Said one of the passengers, a girl, as, leaning back in her seat after glancing around the edge of the storm-curtain, her eyes fell on Daisy's fashionably-clad figure: "Some swell jane in the front seat with the driver, Lil." The remark was made with unmannerly distinctness; and the speaker's companion, another girl of the same commonplace city type, made answer, also in a tone purposely raised to reach Daisy's ear: "Oh, well, we all know what them dolled-up kind is." "Hey!" Jimmy Knight's head jerked around, and a glinting iris swam into that corner of his eye-socket next the last speaker, "do you skirts want to get out o' this car head-first? If not, shut up!" The second girl looked at the first one. "Well, the _very_ idea!" she said audibly, after a second or two. "The idosity of him!" commented Girl Number One, also in a loud tone; "some friend, I guess. They all have their friends." Jimmy turned toward the curb, and threw on the brake. As the car skidded to a standstill, he banged open the tonneau door. "Get out!" he said. "Go on--the both of you! Get to hell out of here! Keep your darned fares." There was that in Jimmy's tone and look which caused the two to act promptly. "Some gentleman!" remarked Girl Number Two, as she descended on the wet street. "Oh, it doesn't matter," fired back Number One, as they walked away, heads up, "we live on the next street, anyway." "That's ten cents I owe you," said Daisy to Jimmy Knight, dimpling. Jimmy did not answer--at least, not in words. He put his lips together, slammed home the clutch and the car leaped forward. By the end of another ten minutes the last two of the passengers in the back portion of the jitney had reached their home corner, and the car was empty except for Daisy and Jimmy. "I'll take y' home, lady," he said, brusquely; "no coat--get wet to the skin--this here rain." "Thank you," aped Daisy, formally. Then she put her chin in the air, and silence reigned.