Ticket Collector. No, I'm not going to pay you anything, m'm. It's no look-out of the Company's if parties choose to worsen themselves; but if you've got a first-class ticket, m'm, you may stay where you are, free of charge.
Mrs Jennings [sarcastically]. Very kind, I'm sure.
Duke. There'll be something to pay on my ticket. I think mine is a third-class.
Ticket Collector. Something to pay? I should rather think there is. Why can't you gents and ladies sort yourselves properly before you start, instead of mixing the Company's accounts in this way? It's sixteen and two-thirds per cent. since just before the Bank Holiday, added to 50 per cent. in January, 1918. [Does a rapid sum]. That comes to 4½d. from Victoria to Penge.
[Duke is also busy with a pencil and paper].
Duke. I can't check these figures in such a hurry. How is it worked?
Ticket Collector. By your paying me 4½d., now, if you please. The train's late as it is.
Duke. The railway company must make a good deal of money in these days, I should think.
Ticket Collector [pocketing money]. Well, sir, if time is money as people say, the Company must have lost a good deal of it at this station, through you keeping me here talking. Why, all the windows of the train is black with heads sticking out of them to know what we're waiting here for.
[Waves flag, whistles and disappears].