astly exposed sideways to the glare of our Missis's eye--you ask a Boy
so sitiwated, next time you stop in a hurry at Mugby, for anything to
drink; you take particular notice that he'll try to seem not to hear you,
that he'll appear in a absent manner to survey the Line through a
transparent medium composed of your head and body, and that he won't
serve you as long as you can possibly bear it. That's Me.

What a lark it is! We are the Model Establishment, we are, at Mugby.
Other Refreshment Rooms send their imperfect young ladies up to be
finished off by our Missis. For some of the young ladies, when they're
new to the business, come into it mild! Ah! Our Missis, she soon takes
that out of 'em. Why, I originally come into the business meek myself.
But Our Missis she soon took that out of _me_.

What a delightful lark it is! I look upon us Refreshmenters as ockipying
the only proudly independent footing on the Line. There's Papers for
instance--my honourable friend if he will allow me to call him so--him as
belongs to Smith's bookstall. Why he no more dares to be up to our
Refreshmenting games, than he dares to jump atop of a locomotive with her
steam at full pressure, and cut away upon her alone, driving himself, at
limited-mail speed. Papers, he'd get his head punched at every
compartment, first, second and third, the whole length of a train, if he
was to ventur to imitate my demeanour. It's the same with the porters,
the same with the guards, the same with the ticket clerks, the same the
whole way up to the secretary, traffic manager, or very chairman. There
ain't a one among 'em on the nobly independent footing we are. Did you
ever catch one of _them_, when you wanted anything of him, making a
system of surveying the Line through a transparent medium composed of
your head and body? I should hope not.

You should see our Bandolining Room at Mugby Junction. It's led to, by
the door behind the counter which you'll notice usually stands ajar, and
it's the room where Our Missis and our young ladies Bandolines their
hair. You should see 'em at it, betwixt trains, Bandolining away, as if
they was anointing themselves for the combat. When you're telegraphed,
you should see their noses all a going up with scorn, as if it was a part
of the working of the same Cooke and Wheatstone electrical machinery.
You should hear Our Missis give the word "Here comes the Beast to be
Fed!" and then you should see 'em indign