Nancy told her.
“She’s green—what did I tell you? And we’re all sophs here. Say, Freshie! don’t you know you don’t belong in here?”
“She’ll have to ride with you, Jim, on the front seat.”
“Now! you know what the Madame would say to that, Miss,” growled Jim.
“Here!” interposed Nancy herself. “I don’t want to ride with you any more than you seem to want me. But it’s raining, and I don’t propose to get wet,” and she sturdily shouldered her way past the driver and into the ’bus between the knees of the girls on either hand.
“I can stand,” she said, grimly.
“But don’t stand on my foot, please, Miss!” snapped a girl she was crowding. “Haven’t you any feet of your own?”
“Oh, cracky, Bertha! you know she’s got to stand somewhere. And your feet——”
“Ouch! who are you shoving?”
“Step forward, please!”