But it had a surprising result--a result that normally would not have happened. Yet, on this particular day, it could not have happened differently. It had been a red-letter day from the beginning, from no assignable cause an exciting joyous day, and the thrill of the hard fast game, the shower, the rub, the walk, had brought her up to what engineers speak of as a "peak." Well, the conductor didn't know that. If he had, he would either have let the girl go by, or have put a good deal more force into his attempt to stop her. And the first thing he knew, he found both his wrists pinned in the grip of her two hands; found himself staring stupidly into a pair of great blazing blue eyes--it's a wrathful color, blue, when you light it up--and listening uncomprehendingly to a voice that said, "Don't dare touch me like that!" The episode might have ended right there, for the conductor's consternation was complete. If she could have walked straight into the car, he would not have pursued her. But her note-books were scattered everywhere and had to be gathered up, and there were two or three of the passengers who thought the situation was funny, and laughed, which did not improve the conductor's temper. Rose was aware, as she gathered up her note-books, of another hand that was helping her--a gloved masculine hand. She took the books it held out to her as she straightened up, and said, "Thank you," but without looking around for the face that went with it. The conductor's intentions were still at the focal point of her mind. They were, apparently, unaltered. He had jerked the bell while she was collecting her note-books and the car was grinding down to a stop. "You pay your fare," he repeated, "or you get off the car right here." "Right here" was in the middle of what looked like a lake, and the rain was pouring down with a roar. She didn't hesitate long, but before she could answer a voice spoke--a voice which, with intuitive certainty, she associated with the gloved hand that had helped gather up her note-books--a very crisp, finely modulated voice. "That's perfectly outrageous," it said. "The young lady has paid her fare." "Did you see her pay it?" demanded the conductor. "Naturally not," said the voice. "I got on at the last corner. She was here then. But if she said she did, she did." It seemed to relieve the conductor to have some one of his own sex to quarrel with. He delivered a stream of admonition somewhat sulphurously phrased, to the general effect that any one whose concern the present affair was not, could, at his option, close his jaw or have his block knocked off.