The ticket man had a line of patter which he constantly chanted as the patrons surged in front of his wicket twice on each week day of the season—before the afternoon performance and again before the evening performance.
“Don’t shove, friends!” he would say. “Don’t crowd! Take your time. Give everybody a chance!”
The parrot memorized this speech. She even learned to mimic her master’s exact tone. Repeating his admonition was a favorite part of her repertoire.
One afternoon when business was over he went away, forgetting to close the slide on his window. When he returned a little later his pet was gone. Immediately he organized a search party to look for the truant bird.
Half a mile distant from the show lot, in a field, he found Poll. She was reared back on the ground, practically featherless. About her circled and swirled a great flock of crows, cawing joyously. Every instant nearly, one of the crows, twisting out of the circle, would dart down and pluck a souvenir of green plumage from the disheveled alien.
And each time this happened Poor Poll, in a beautiful imitation of her owner’s voice and accent would shriek out:
“Don’t shove, friends! Don’t crowd! Take your time! Give everybody a chance!”
§ 210 A Seeker after Hidden Facts
When the New York Central inaugurated its fast service between New York and Chicago there was a great pother along the main line. Employees of whatsoever rank were instructed that the paramount consideration was to get the Twentieth Century Limited through on schedule. If the slightest mishap occurred to the train all hands were charged to forward prompt reports to headquarters, giving the complete details.
At a small flag-stop west of Albany, the station-agent was a callow youth. By enthusiasm and a sense of his responsibilities he made up, though, for what he lacked in experience. In addition to being the ticket-seller he also was the despatcher.