_The O.G._ (_testily_). Pathetic, Sir--nonsense! I like to see people
putting their _heart_ into it, whether it's play or work. Give me a
crowd--

[_As if in answer to this prayer, there is a sudden irruption
of typical Bank Holiday-makers into the compartment._

_Man by the Window_. Third-class as good as fust, these days! There's
ole FRED! Wayo, FRED, tumble in, ole son--room for one more standin'!

[_"OLE FRED" plays himself in with a triumphal blast on a tin
trumpet, after which he playfully hammers the roof with his
stick, as he leans against the door._

_Ole Fred_. Where's my blanky friend? I 'it 'im one on the jaw, and
I ain't seen 'im since! (_Sings, sentimentally, at the top of a
naturally powerful voice._) "Com-rides, Com-rides! Hever since we was
boys! Sharin' each other's sorrers. Sharin' each hother's--beer!"

[_A "paraprosdokian," which delights him to the point of
repetition._

_The O.G._ Might I ask you to make a little less disturbance there
Sir? [_Whimpers from over-tired children._

_Ole Fred_ (_roaring_). "I'm jolly as a Sandboy, I'm 'appy as a king!
No matter what I see or 'ear, I larf at heverything! I'm the morril
of my moth-ar, (_to O.G._) the himage of _your_ Par! And heverythink I
see or 'ear, it makes me larf 'Ar-har!'"

[_He laughs "Ar-har," after which he gives a piercing
blast upon the trumpet, with stick obbligato on the roof._

_The O.G._ (_roused_). I really _must_ beg you not to be such an
infernal nuisance! There are women and children here who--

_Old Fred_. Shet up, ole umbereller whiskers! (_Screams of laughter
from women and children, which encourage him to sing again._) "An'
the roof is copper-bottomed, but the chimlies are of gold. In my
double-breasted mansion in the Strand!" (_To people on platform,
as train stops_.) _Come_ in, oh, lor, _do_! "Oi-tiddly-oi-toi!
hoi-toi-oy!"

[_The rest take up the refrain--"'Ave a drink an' wet your
eye," &c., and beat time with their boots._

_The O.G._. If this abominable noise goes on, I shall call the
guard--disgraceful, coming in drunk like this!

_The Man by the Window_. 'Ere, dry up, Guv'nor--_'e_ ain't 'ad enough
to 'urt 'im, _'e_ ain't!

_Chorus of Females_ (_to O.G._). An' Bank 'Oliday, too--you orter to
be _ashimed_ o' yerself, you ought! 'E's as right as right, if you
on'y let him alone!

_Old Fred_ (_to O.G._). Ga-arn, yer pore-'arted ole choiner boy!
(_Says, dismally