Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 January 1911 — WAS OBEYING ORDERS [ARTICLE]

WAS OBEYING ORDERS

HUMOROUS INCIDENT IN NEW YORK STREET CAR.

Twinkling-Eyed Old irishwoman Qot Her Transfer Regardless of the » Company’s Rules—What She ; Wanted It For. / ■

When the street railway companies' In New York posted notices that passengers desiring transfers must ask for them at the time of paying fare or otherwise forfeit right to> receive them, of course people constantly forgot. The troubles of the street car employes were materially Increased thereby—except in occasional instances. The conductor on an Amsterdam avenue car was one day accosted by a quaint little twinkling-eyed old woman, who demanded her “thransfer.” “You should have asked me when. you paid,” he objected. “Sure, but I thried to do ut, me bhoy,” she said, her innate friendliness overflowing in a smile, “but ye wuz that “'quick ’n’ loively ye’d sthepped off befure I eud say a wurrud!” The conductors evidently reserved the right to make exceptions. This one was a good-natured looking young man; indeed, by this time every one about had begun to look good-natured. “All right, grandma,” ,he said, jovially, “I’ll give you one this time. What other line do you want?” “Whut line?” she repeated doubtfully. “I don’t wan anny other line.” ‘Don’t you know where you want to go?” “Don’t I know? Well, listen to the lmpidince of the bhoy, will ye!” “You see,” explained the ‘bhoy/ laughing, “if you tell me Where you want to go, I know what transfer to give you.” “Well,, if ye must know, I’m goin* to git off at Wan Hundred ’n’ Sivinth sthreet and go sthralght to me home, wan block wist” “Well, then, what do you want with a transfer?” “Whut do I? ’Tis me own business that! Sure” —taking him fully into her confidence—l’ll be givin’ It, mebby, to me little grandson. Whin I git home, he’ll be askin’ whut grandma’s got for him, the lamb!” “But—” "Now see .here, wanst me bhoy, Danny, that’s me son, he tould me pertickler to ask fer me thransfer whin payin’ me fare. ’Tis the comp’ny’s ordhes,’ says he. An’ that’s whut I’m loin’: —askin’ fer me thransfer. Ye’ve been givin’ ivery wan else a thransfer, an’ ye can hand me out mine widout so manny wurruds.” The conductor surrendered. He selected a red paper, remarking, “That color will please the little grandson, I guess!” Then he went on, made happier for the rest of the day.—Youth's Companion. f