Conductorette

One misty day I was riding on top of a ’bus, and when the conductorette came to get my fare, she leaned over the seat in front of mine, and kissed the wounded soldier who was sitting there.

A man riding a bicycle had run into the tail end of our train when his brakes failed. A conductorette happened to see the accident and reported it to the engineer.

On the streetcar, I put my fare into the box and the conductorette looked at me with the usual hard eyes of white contempt. “Move into the car, please move on in the car.”