AT THE BOOKING OFFICE.

Press, Volume LII, Issue 9137, 22 June 1895, Page 3

AT THE BOOKING OFFICE.

W.r.R in the St. James's Budgtt. Window of booking-office at railway station. Through the brass fretwork surrounding small opening, passengers debate with smart cross looking clerk ambushed within. Booking Clerk: The other window, don't I keep telling you—the other window. (To colleague) It's a marvel to mc why some of 'em dare come out of doors without a nur*e to look after 'era. (To mild passenger; Second return where? (Mild passenger repeats destination.) All right. Don't bawl your head off. Mild Passenger : I thought yon couldn't hear. 8.C.: I can hear well enough if you only speak up. Anxious Lady: Please, young man, I want to ask the times of the trains going to -• B.C. (curtly): Ask porter outside. A.L.: You see it's like this, young man. Fm 'alf thiaking of goiog down to see my dauschter, who's married to a man—well (bitterly), he calls hisself a man, but if yon ask mc I should say he was a numbug— and her being there with two children, youngest one of 'em two year and seven months old, and (Booking Clerk eoes away to read newspaper) of course, after all's said and done, a mother has her feelings to'ards her daughter, no matter what words may 'aye passed between them, and —Young man i Young man. B.C. (returning): Now begin again. Anxious Lady: Yes; well, don't keep running away, there's a good gentleman, or else I can't possibly explain what I want. As I was telling yon, my daughter's 'nsband—his name i* Evans, but I often say it ought to be 'all with a temper like he's got when anybody offers him a word of advice—but what I wanted to say was— — Impatient Voyagers: Pass along, mother. You're blocking up tbe way. Anxious Lady: Oh dear, eh dear I How people do scrowge, to be sure! They might just as well take things calmly as keep on pushing each other about all over the shop, for all the world like—— (Anxious lady is gently shunted by impatient nasseagera,!

Annoyed Gent, (with much severity) : \ And pray, why arc there no cheap tickets [ issued to day? I demand to know why. , I'm a frequent passenger on this hoe, and I insist on knowing why. 8.C.: Well, because there aia't. That's why. Annoyed Gent. : That's not good enough [ for mc, ray good fellow, I want some I better explanation than that, if you please. You needn't think I'm to be put ofl in that ! manner, and if you do you're uncommonly i mistaken. Do you bear mc, sir? Uncoui- ; monly mistaken, I say. II 8.C.: That's all right, then. 5 Annoyed Gent. <with increased choler) • , Damme, sir, it's not all right, flow dare you say it's all right ? I say it's not all ri>*ht. B.C. (agreeably): Very well, it ain't all right. Annoyed gent: I tell you what it Is. my fine fellow. You railway people have got ' a monopoly, and you think you can ride 1 rough shod—absolutely rough shod, I say —over the people of this country. (Slaps ledge). I tell you, sir—are you listening! 8.C.: No. Annoyed Gent: Then why the devil don't you listen, sir? You represent the department; and I tell you plainly that if ycu go on in this way the public will make a stand, sir. Mind you—(warmly)— a worm will turn. I say a worm will turn. I repeat, a worm— B.C. (softly): Oh, shut your 'cad—shut your 'cad. Annoyed Gent: Fact of it is, you railway people think you can do just what you like. 1 tell you, sir, it's high time somebody wrote to the papers and showed up the whole confounded——— B.C. definitely): Look here I Do yon want a ticket or don't you? Annoyed Gent.: Certainly I do. Most certainly I do. Give mc one at once, and don't keep mc here kickiug my heels all day long. I can't afford to waste my time over a pack of impudent young boys. Come on, now. Sharp 1 ("Takes ticket with much hurry. Bustles away excitedly, forgetting change.] B.C. (relaxing acidity of manner): Good bis! Confused Passenger: Will you kindly gi' men Irish cold, miss—l meantei'Bay tick'—to wha'a name place, mister? B.C. (soothingly): Go on 'ome, old chap. You're little bit too tired to go by train. Confused Passenger: Nov* you mind 'bout mc being bit tired. Nov' you mind 'bout that, my (hie) frieu*. (With dignity) Tha's my business. You gi' mc ticket, 'r i else I'll (bic) report you to gen'al manger. 8.C.: You go and report yourself to a j cab, old man. You've been in the sun a j bit to-day. Confused One (with indignation): How dare you 'cuse mc of being in sun, you bla'guard? (Shakes fist at 8.C.) For two pins, sir—l say, for two (hie) pins—l'd knock you down, sir, 'n jump on you. D'ye'ar 1 Jump on you. 8.C.: You'll get jumping on yourself if you ain't careful. (Kindly.) Now why don't you go and have a small soda, and take a cab 'orne ? Confused One (relenting suddenly) F'rgive mc, old man, I'm upset. I 'pologise. I can't do more'n that, can I ? Gawblessmysoul, I wouldn't 'urfc single 'air of y'r 'cad. Shake hands. (Booking Clerk shakes hands.) My boy, you can say now you've shaken 'ands with 'n honest man. An honest man, I say. Truculently) Don't you insult mc now, 'r else I'll 'aye you locked up as soon as look at you. I say I'm an honest man. Now, then, wha' you got to say to that ? Eh ? 8.C.: I'm very glad to 'ear it, guvnor. It's the only bit of good news I've 'ad this year. Confused One (moved to tears): " You're a geuleman, my boy. One of Nature's own genlemen. I look upon you as one noblest gems of B.C, (perturbed at flattery): Look 'ere. You take my advice. You go outside, 'ail a cab, tell him where you want to go, and let him drive you there. Go on now. Confused One: I will, my boy. You're what I call a frieu' in need; Goo-bye, old chap. (Weeps again.) 'Member mo to all at 'orne. Goo-bye. (Stumbles off.) B.C. (to Giddy Girl): Single, Miss? Giddy Girl: Oh no, not 9ingle. I'm coming back. B.C. (facetiously): Oh, nob single, eh? How long might you have been married, I wonder ? Giddy Girl (amused): Oh you are silly. You young chaps always seem to 'aye a joke ready for anyone. Do I have to get this ticket nipped? 8.C.: What are you doing next Sunday, JUaudfc? Giddy Girl: Leave off your nonsense, j do. Besides, my name is not Maudie. It's ■ Emma. 8.C.: Iknow alotof girls named E trims. What time are you coming back, Emma? Giddy Girl: Oh, mc time is rae own, thanks be. I wouldu'fc be bound down to a minute, like some girls are, not for anything. Mother often says to mc," " Emma," she says, "you're always such a rare one for going out." And (frankly) I believe I am too. 1 ain't 'appy unless I'm on tho go. B.C. (gallantly): Ah, I expect you're a saucy young prawn, Emma, if the truth was known. Girl (with voluble seriousness): Ko, I can't say I am; I'm very particular; more particular than p'raps a single young girl has any need to b» if she wants to get married, but, as I often say, I will not talk to anybody who hasn't been interduced to rae, for I alwaja do think a girl with any —well, what I call looks—about her has to be so— — B.C. (bored): You'll miss your train, Emma, if you don't 'urry. Girl: Well, I must say good-bye, I suppose. P'raps I shall see you again 'ere some day. (She gees.) B.C. (aside) : P'raps not. Boy (shrilly): 'Alf a ticket I said, mister. *_klf si ticfcftfe B.C. (doubtfully): You and your 'alf ticket. You'll never see twelve again Wbat age are you? Eoy: Mother told mc to say I was twelve next birthday. Mother always tells us to say that. 8.C.: Look 'ere, kiddy. In confidence, mind. Strictly between ourselves. How old are you reely ? Boy: I'm fourteen and a *alf, but Jimmies older 'n mc and he always goes for 'alf a ticket, and mother said I was to say I was 'leven year old and a bit. B.C. (giving ticket): Here you are. Here's your 'alf ticket. Bab you give my compliments to your mother and you tell her from mc that if her 'leven year olds and a bit don't move on a trifle more we shall *aye to make 'em. Tell her, won't you? Boy (knowingly): Taint likely. I ain't going to get a clip side the 'cad just because you want to be funny. Is this a good penny you've give mc? It looks a bit bant. (Tests it between his teeth and goes unwillingly. Bell rings. Distant engine screams with delight). B.C. (closing window with relief): Now for just five minutes to meself.