I had never met the night man and knew
nothing of him, except that he was a fiery-tempered Irishman named
Barry, and a most excellent operator. It had been told me that the
despatchers had, on more than one occasion, complained of his impudence,
but his ability was so marked and he was so prompt in answering and
transacting business, that he was allowed to remain. As No. 6 pulled out
he went into the office, closed the door and then shut the window. He
had apparently not seen me, or if he had he paid no attention to me, so
I went into the waiting-room and rapped on the ticket window. He shoved
it up, stared at me and gruffly said, "Well! what's wanted?"
I answered pretty sharply, that I desired to come into his office.
"Well then you can take it out in wanting, because you don't get in
here, see!"
I started to reason with him, when he slammed the window in my face.
That made me madder than a March hare, and I told him if he didn't let
me in that office mighty quick, I'd smash that window into smithereens
and come in anyhow.
Biff! Up went that window, and Mr.
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