Inside the cab the fare sat up straight on the cushions，looking to right and left at the lights and houses. Even inthe shadowed hansom her eyes shone like stars at twilight.
When they reached Fifty-ninth street Jerry’s head wasbobbing and his reins were slack. But his horse turned inthrough the park gate and began the old familiar nocturnalround. And then the fare leaned back， entranced， andbreathed deep the clean， wholesome odours of grass andleaf and bloom. And the wise beast in the shafts， knowinghis ground， struck into his by-the-hour gait and kept tothe right of the road.
Habit also struggled successfully against Jerry’s increasingtorpor. He raised the hatch of his storm-tossed vessel andmade the inquiry that cabbies do make in the park.
“Like shtop at the Cas-sino， lady？ Gezzer r’freshm’s， ’nlish’n the music. Ev’body shtops.”
“I think that would be nice，” said the fare.
They reined up with a plunge at the Casino entrance.
The cab doors flew open. The fare stepped directly uponthe floor. At once she was caught in a web of ravishingmusic and dazzled by a panorama of lights and colours.
Some one slipped a little square card into her hand onwhich was printed a number—34. She looked around andsaw her cab twenty yards away already lining up in its placeamong the waiting mass of carriages， cabs and motor cars.
And then a man who seemed to be all shirt-front dancedbackward before her； and next she was seated at a littletable by a railing over which climbed a jessamine vine.
There seemed to be a wordless invitation to purchase；she consulted a collection of small coins in a thin purse， andreceived from them license to order a glass of beer. Thereshe sat， inhaling and absorbing it all—the new-coloured，new-shaped life in a fairy palace in an enchanted wood.
At fifty tables sat princes and queens clad in all the silksand gems of the world. And now and then one of themwould look curiously at Jerry’s fare. They saw a plain figuredressed in a pink silk of the kind that is tempered by theword “foulard，” and a plain face that wore a look of love oflife that the queens envied.
Twice the long hands of the clocks went round，Royalties thinned from their al fresco thrones， and buzzedor clattered away in their vehicles of state. The musicretired into cases of wood and bags of leather and baize.
Waiters removed cloths pointedly near the plain figuresitting almost alone.
Jerry’s fare rose， and held out her numbered card simply：
“Is there anything coming on the ticket？” she asked.
A waiter told her it was her cab check， and that sheshould give it to the man at the entrance. This man tookit， and called the number. Only three hansoms stood inline. The driver of one of them went and routed out Jerryasleep in his cab. He swore deeply， climbed to the captain’sbridge and steered his craft to the pier. His fare entered，and the cab whirled into the cool fastnesses of the parkalong the shortest homeward cuts.
At the gate a glimmer of reason in the form of suddensuspicion seized upon Jerry’s beclouded mind. One ortwo things occurred to him. He stopped his horse， raisedthe trap and dropped his phonographic voice， like a leadplummet， through the aperture：
“I want to see four dollars before goin’ any further on th’
thrip. Have ye got th’ dough？”
“Four dollars！” laughed the fare， softly， “dear me， no. I’veonly got a few pennies and a dime or two.”
Jerry shut down the trap and slashed his oat-fed horse.
The clatter of hoofs strangled but could not drown thesound of his profanity. He shouted choking and gurglingcurses at the starry heavens； he cut viciously with his whipat passing vehicles； he scattered fierce and ever-changingoaths and imprecations along the streets， so that a latetruck driver， crawling homeward， heard and was abashed.
But he knew his recourse， and made for it at a gallop.
At the house with the green lights beside the stepshe pulled up. He flung wide the cab doors and tumbledheavily to the ground.
“Come on， you，” he said， roughly.
His fare came forth with the Casino dreamy smilestill on her plain face. Jerry took her by the arm and ledher into the police station. A gray-moustached sergeantlooked keenly across the desk. He and the cabby were nostrangers.
“Sargeant，” began Jerry in his old raucous， martyred，thunderous tones of complaint. “I’ve got a fare herethat—”
Jerry paused. He drew a knotted， red hand across hisbrow. The fog set up by McGary was beginning to clearaway.
“A fare， sargeant，” he continued， with a grin， “that I wantto inthroduce to ye. It’s me wife that I married at ouldman Walsh’s this avening. And a divil of a time we had， ’tisthrue. Shake hands wid th’ sargeant， Norah， and we’ll beoff to home.”
Before stepping into the cab Norah sighed profoundly.
“I’ve had such a nice time， Jerry，” said she.