THE SLEEPING CAR--A FARCEby William D. Howells I. SCENE: One side of a sleeping-car on the Boston and Albany Road. Thecurtains are drawn before most of the berths; from the hooks and rodshang hats, bonnets, bags, bandboxes, umbrellas, and other travellinggear; on the floor are boots of both sexes, set out for THE PORTER toblack. THE PORTER is making up the beds in the upper and lower berthsadjoining the seats on which a young mother, slender and pretty, with ababy asleep on the seat beside her, and a stout old lady, sit confrontingeach other--MRS. AGNES ROBERTS and her aunt MARY. MRS. ROBERTS. Do you always take down your back hair, aunty? AUNT MARY. No, never, child; at least not since I had such a frightabout it once, coming on from New York. It's all well enough to takedown your back hair if it _is_ yours; but if it isn't, your head's thebest place for it. Now, as I buy mine of Madame Pierrot-- MRS. ROBERTS. Don't you _wish_ she wouldn't advertise it as _human_hair? It sounds so pokerish--like human flesh, you know. AUNT MARY. Why, she couldn't call it _in_human hair, my dear. MRS. ROBERTS (thoughtfully). No--just _hair_. AUNT MARY. Then people might think it was for mattresses. But, as I wassaying, I took it off that night, and tucked it safely away, as Isupposed, in my pocket, and I slept sweetly till about midnight, when Ihappened to open my eyes, and saw something long and black crawl off mybed and slip under the berth. _Such_ a shriek as I gave, my dear! "Asnake! a snake! oh, a snake!" And everybody began talking at once, andsome of the gentlemen swearing, and the porter came running with thepoker to kill it; and all the while it was that ridiculous switch ofmine, that had worked out of my pocket. And glad enough I was to grab itup before anybody saw it, and say I must have been dreaming. MRS. ROBERTS. Why, aunty, how funny! How _could_ you suppose a serpentcould get on board a sleeping-car, of all places in the world! AUNT MARY. That was the perfect absurdity of it. THE PORTER. Berths ready now, ladies. MRS. ROBERTS (to THE PORTER, who walks away to the end of the car, andsits down near the door). Oh, thank you. Aunty, do you feel nervous theleast bit? AUNT MARY. Nervous? No. Why? MRS. ROBERTS. Well, I don't know. I suppose I've been worked up alittle about meeting Willis, and wondering how he'll look, and all. Wecan't _know_ each other, of course. It doesn't stand to reason that ifhe's been out there for twelve years, ever since I was a child, thoughwe've corresponded regularly--at least _I_ have--that he could recognizeme; not at the first glance, you know. He'll have a full beard; and thenI've got married, and here's the baby. Oh, _no_! he'll never guess whoit is in the world. Photographs really amount to nothing in such a case. I wish we were at home, and it was all over. I wish he had written someparticulars, instead of telegraphing from Ogden, "Be with you on the 7A. M. , Wednesday. " AUNT MARY. Californians always telegraph, my dear; they never think ofwriting. It isn't expensive enough, and it doesn't make your blood runcold enough to get a letter, and so they send you one of those miserableyellow despatches whenever they can--those printed in a long string, ifpossible, so that you'll be _sure_ to die before you get to the end ofit. I suppose your brother has fallen into all those ways, and says"reckon" and "ornary" and "which the same, " just like one of Mr. BretHarte's characters. MRS. ROBERTS. But it isn't exactly our not knowing each other, aunty, that's worrying me; that's something that could be got over in time. Whatis simply driving me distracted is Willis and Edward meeting there whenI'm away from home. Oh, how _could_ I be away! and why _couldn't_ Willishave given us fair warning? I would have hurried from the ends of theearth to meet him. I don't believe poor Edward ever saw a Californian;and he's so quiet and preoccupied, I'm sure he'd never get on withWillis. And if Willis is the least loud, he wouldn't like Edward. Notthat I suppose he _is_ loud; but I don't believe he knows anything aboutliterary men. But you can see, aunty, can't you, how very anxious I mustbe? Don't you see that I ought to have been there when Willis and Edwardmet, so as to--to--well, to _break_ them to each other, don't you know? AUNT MARY. Oh, you needn't be troubled about that, Agnes. I dare saythey've got on perfectly well together. Very likely they're sitting downto the unwholesomest hot supper this instant that the ingenuity of mancould invent. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, do you _think_ they are, aunty? Oh, if I could _only_believe they were sitting down to a hot supper together now, I should be_so_ happy! They'd be sure to get on if they were. There's nothing likeeating to make men friendly with each other. Don't you know, atreceptions, how they never have anything to say to each other till theescalloped oysters and the chicken salad appear; and then how sweet theyare as soon as they've helped the ladies to ice? Oh, thank you, _thank_you, aunty, for thinking of the hot supper. It's such a relief to mymind! You can understand, can't you, aunty dear, how anxious I must havebeen to have my only brother and my only--my husband--get on nicelytogether? My life would be a wreck, simply a wreck, if they didn't. AndWillis and I not having seen each other since I was a child makes it allthe worse. I do _hope_ they're sitting down to a hot supper. AN ANGRY VOICE from the next berth but one. I wish people in sleeping-cars-- A VOICE from the berth beyond that. You're mistaken in your premises, sir. This is a waking-car. Ladies, go on, and oblige an eager listener. [Sensation, and smothered laughter from the other berths. ] MRS. ROBERTS (after a space of terrified silence, in a loud whisper toher AUNT. ) What horrid things! But now we really must go to bed. It_was_ too bad to keep talking. I'd no idea my voice was getting so loud. Which berth will you have, aunty? I'd better take the upper one, because-- AUNT MARY (whispering). No, no; I must take that, so that you can bewith the baby below. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, how good you are, Aunt Mary! It's too bad; it isreally. I can't let you. AUNT MARY. Well, then, you must; that's all. You know how that childtosses and kicks about in the night. You never can tell where his head'sgoing to be in the morning, but you'll probably find it at the foot ofthe bed. I couldn't sleep an instant, my dear, if I thought that boy wasin the upper berth; for I'd be sure of his tumbling out over you. Here, let me lay him down. [She lays the baby in the lower berth. ] There! Nowget in, Agnes--do, and leave me to my struggle with the attraction ofgravitation. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, _poor_ aunty, how will you ever manage it? I _must_help you up. AUNT MARY. No, my dear; don't be foolish. But you may go and call theporter, if you like. I dare say he's used to it. [MRS. ROBERTS goes and speak timidly to THE PORTER, who fails at first tounderstand, then smiles broadly, accepts a quarter with a duck of hishead, and comes forward to AUNT MARY'S side. ] MRS. ROBERTS. Had he better give you his hand to rest your foot in, while you spring up as if you were mounting horseback? AUNT MARY (with disdain). _Spring_! My dear, I haven't sprung for aquarter of a century. I shall require every fibre in the man's body. Hishand, indeed! You get in first, Agnes. MRS. ROBERTS. I will, aunty dear; but-- AUNT MARY (sternly). Agnes, do as I say. [MRS. ROBERTS crouches down onthe lower berth. ] I don't choose that any member of my family shallwitness my contortions. Don't you look. MRS. ROBERTS. No, no, aunty. AUNT MARY. Now, porter, are you strong? PORTER. I used to be porter at a Saratoga hotel, and carried up deladies' trunks dere. AUNT MARY. Then you'll do, I think. Now, then, your knee; now yourback. There! And very handsomely done. Thanks. MRS. ROBERTS. Are you really in, Aunt Mary? AUNT MARY (dryly). Yes. Good-night. MRS. ROBERTS. Good-night, aunty. [After a pause of some minutes. ]Aunty! AUNT MARY. Well, what? MRS. ROBERTS. Do you think it's perfectly safe? [She rises in her berth, and looks up over the edge of the upper. ] AUNT MARY. I suppose so. It's a well-managed road. They've got the air-brake, I've heard, and the Miller platform, and all those horrid things. What makes you introduce such unpleasant subjects? MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, I don't mean accidents. But, you know, when you turn, it does creak so awfully. I shouldn't mind myself; but the baby-- AUNT MARY. Why, child, do you think I'm going to break through? Icouldn't. I'm one of the _lightest_ sleepers in the world. MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, I know you're a light sleeper; but--but it doesn'tseem quite the same thing, somehow. AUNT MARY. But it is; it's quite the same thing, and you can beperfectly easy in your mind, my dear. I should be quite as loth to breakthrough as you would to have me. Good-night. MRS. ROBERTS. Yes; good-night, Aunty! AUNT MARY. Well? MRS. ROBERTS. You ought to just see him, how he's lying. He's a perfectlog. _Couldn't_ you just bend over, and peep down at him a moment? AUNT MARY. Bend over! It would be the death of me. Good-night. MRS. ROBERTS. Good-night. Did you put the glass into my bag or yours? Ifeel so very thirsty, and I want to go and get some water. I'm sure Idon't know why I should be thirsty. Are you, Aunt Mary? Ah! here it is. Don't disturb yourself, aunty; I've found it. It was in my bag, justwhere I'd put it myself. But all this trouble about Willis has made meso fidgety that I don't know where anything is. And now I don't know howto manage about the baby while I go after the water. He's sleepingsoundly enough now; but if he should happen to get into one of hisrolling moods, he might tumble out on to the floor. Never mind, aunty, I've thought of something. I'll just barricade him with these bags andshawls. Now, old fellow, roll as much as you like. If you should happento hear him stir, aunty, won't you--aunty! Oh, dear! she's asleepalready; and what shall I do? [While MRS. ROBERTS continues talking, various notes of protest, profane and otherwise, make themselves heardfrom different berths. ] I know. I'll make a bold dash for the water, and be back in an instant, baby. Now, don't you move, you little rogue. [She runs to the water-tank at the end of the car, and then back to herberth. ] Now, baby, here's mamma again. Are you all right, mamma's own? [A shaggy head and bearded face are thrust from the curtains of the nextberth. ] THE STRANGER. Look here, ma'am. I don't want to be disagreeable aboutthis thing, and I hope you won't take any offence; but the fact is, I'mhalf dead for want of sleep, and if you'll only keep quiet now a littlewhile, I'll promise not to speak above my breath if ever I find you on asleeping-car after you've come straight through from San Francisco, dayand night, and not been able to get more than about a quarter of yourusual allowance of rest--I will indeed. MRS. ROBERTS. I'm very sorry that I've disturbed you, and I'll try to bemore quiet. I didn't suppose I was speaking so loud; but the cars keepup such a rattling that you never can tell how loud you _are_ speaking. Did I understand you to say that you were from California? THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, ma'am. MRS. ROBERTS. San Francisco? THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, ma'am. MRS. ROBERTS. Thanks. It's a terribly long journey, isn't it? I knowquite how to feel for you. I've a brother myself coming on. In fact weexpected him before this. [She scans his face as sharply as the lamp-light will allow, and continues, after a brief hesitation. ] It's alwayssuch a silly question to ask a person, and I suppose San Francisco is alarge place, with a great many people always coming and going, so that itwould be only one chance in a thousand if you did. THE CALIFORNIAN (patiently). Did what, ma'am? MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, I was just wondering if it was possible--but of courseit isn't, and it's very flat to ask--that you'd ever happened to meet mybrother there. His name is Willis Campbell. THE CALIFORNIAN (with more interest). Campbell? Campbell? Yes, I knowa man of that name. But I disremember his first name. Little lowfellow--pretty chunky? MRS. ROBERTS. I don't know. Do you mean short and stout? THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, ma'am. MRS. ROBERTS. I'm sure I can't tell. It's a great many years since hewent out there, and I've never seen him in all that time. I thought ifyou _did_ happen to know him--He's a lawyer. THE CALIFORNIAN. It's quite likely I know him; and in the morning, ma'am-- MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, excuse me. I'm very sorry to have kept you so longawake with my silly questions. THE MAN IN THE UPPER BERTH. Don't apologize, madam. I'm not aCalifornian myself, but I'm an orphan, and away from home, and I thankyou, on behalf of all our fellow-passengers, for the mental refreshmentthat your conversation has afforded us. _I_ could lie here and listen toit all night; but there are invalids in some of these berths, and perhapson their account it will be as well to defer everything till the morning, as our friend suggests. Allow me to wish you pleasant dreams, madam. [THE CALIFORNIAN, while MRS. ROBERTS shrinks back under the curtain ofher berth in dismay, and stammers some inaudible excuse, slowly emergesfull length from his berth. ] THE CALIFORNIAN. Don't you mind me, ma'am; I've got everything but myboots and coat on. Now, then [standing beside the berth, and looking inupon the man in the upper tier], you, do you know that this is a ladyyou're talking to? THE UPPER BERTH. By your voice and your shaggy personal appearance Ishouldn't have taken you for a lady--no, sir. But the light is veryimperfect; you may be a bearded lady. THE CALIFORNIAN. You never mind about my looks. The question is, Do youwant your head rapped up against the side of this car? THE UPPER BERTH. With all the frankness of your own Pacific slope, no. MRS. ROBERTS (hastily reappearing). Oh, no, no, don't hurt him. He'snot to blame. I was wrong to keep on talking. Oh, please don't hurthim! THE CALIFORNIAN (to THE UPPER BERTH). You hear? Well, now, don't youspeak another word to that lady tonight. Just go on, ma'am, and freeyour mind on any little matter you like. I don't want any sleep. Howlong has your brother been in California? MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, don't let's talk about it now; I don't want to talkabout it. I thought--I thought--Good-night. Oh, dear! I didn't supposeI was making so much trouble. I didn't mean to disturb anybody. I-- [MRS. ROBERTS gives way to the excess of her confusion and mortificationin a little sob, and then hides her grief behind the curtains of herberth. THE CALIFORNIAN slowly emerges again from his couch, and standsbeside it, looking in upon the man in the berth above. ] THE CALIFORNIAN. For half a cent I _would_ rap your head up against thatwall. Making the lady cry, and getting me so mad I can't sleep! Now seehere, you just apologize. You beg that lady's pardon, or I'll have youout of there before you know yourself. [Cries of "Good!" "That's right!"and "Make him show himself!" hail MRS. ROBERTS'S champion, and heads, more or less dishevelled, are thrust from every berth. MRS. ROBERTSremains invisible and silent, and the loud and somewhat complicatedrespiration of her AUNT makes itself heard in the general hush ofexpectancy. A remark to the effect that "The old lady seems to enjoy herrest" achieves a facile applause. THE CALIFORNIAN again addresses theculprit. ] Come, now, what do you say? I'll give you just one-half aminute. MRS. ROBERTS (from her shelter). Oh, please, _please_ don't make him sayanything. It was very trying in me to keep him awake, and I know hedidn't mean any offence. Oh, _do_ let him be! THE CALIFORNIAN. You hear that? You stay quiet the rest of the time;and if that lady choses to keep us all awake the whole night, don't _you_say a word, or I'll settle with you in the morning. [Loud and continued applause, amidst which THE CALIFORNIAN turns from theman in the berth before him, and restores order by marching along theaisle of the car in his stocking feet. The heads vanish behind thecurtains. As the laughter subsides, he returns to his berth, and after astare up and down the tranquillized car, he is about to retire. ] A VOICE. Oh, don't just bow. Speak! [A fresh burst of laughter greets this sally. THE CALIFORNIAN erectshimself again with an air of baited wrath, and then suddenly breaks intoa helpless laugh. ] THE CALIFORNIAN. Gentlemen, you're too many for _me_. [He gets into his berth, and after cries of "Good for California!""You're all right, William Nye!" and "You're several ahead yet!" theoccupants of the different berths gradually relapse into silence, and atlast, as the car lunges onward through the darkness, nothing is heard butthe rhythmical clank of the machinery, with now and then a burst ofaudible slumber from MRS. ROBERTS'S aunt MARY. ] II. At Worcester, where the train has made the usual stop, THE PORTER, withhis lantern on his arm, enters the car, preceding a gentleman somewhatanxiously smiling; his nervous speech contrasts painfully with thebusiness-like impassiveness of THE PORTER, who refuses, with an air ofincredulity, to enter into the confidences which the gentleman seemsreluctant to bestow. MR. EDWARD ROBERTS. This is the Governor Marcy, isn't it? THE PORTER. Yes, sah. MR. ROBERTS. Came on from Albany, and not from New York? THE PORTER. Yes, sah, it did. MR. ROBERTS. Ah! it must be all right. I-- THE PORTER. Was your wife expecting you to come on board here? MR. ROBERTS. Well, no, not exactly. She was expecting me to meet her atBoston. But I--[struggling to give the situation dignity, but failing, and throwing himself, with self-convicted silliness, upon THE PORTER'Smercy. ] The fact is, I thought I would surprise her by joining her here. THE PORTER (refusing to have any mercy). Oh! How did you expect to findher? MR. ROBERTS. Well--well--I don't know. I didn't consider. [He looksdown the aisle in despair at the close-drawn curtains of the berths, andup at the dangling hats and bags and bonnets, and down at the chaos ofboots of both sexes on the floor. ] I don't know _how_ I expected to findher. [MR. ROBERTS'S countenance falls, and he visibly sinks so low in his ownesteem and an imaginary public opinion that THE PORTER begins to have alittle compassion. ] THE PORTER. Dey's so many ladies on board _I_ couldn't find her. MR. ROBERTS. Oh, no, no, of course not. I didn't expect that. THE PORTER. Don't like to go routing 'em all up, you know. I wouldn'tbe allowed to. MR. ROBERTS. I don't ask it; that would be preposterous. THE PORTER. What sort of looking lady was she? MR. ROBERTS. Well, I don't know, really. Not very tall, rather slight, blue eyes. I--I don't know what you'd call her nose. And--stop! Ohyes, she had a child with her, a little boy. Yes! THE PORTER (thoughtfully looking down the aisle). Dey was three ladieshad children. I didn't notice whether dey was boys or girls, or _what_dey was. Didn't have anybody with her? MR. ROBERTS. No, no. Only the child. THE PORTER. Well, I don't know what you are going to do, sah. It won'tbe a great while now till morning, you know. Here comes the conductor. Maybe he'll know what to do. [MR. ROBERTS makes some futile, inarticulate attempts to prevent ThePORTER from laying the case before THE CONDUCTOR, and then standsguiltily smiling, overwhelmed with the hopeless absurdity of hisposition. ] THE CONDUCTOR (entering the car, and stopping before THE PORTER, andlooking at MR. ROBERTS). Gentleman want a berth? THE PORTER (grinning). Well, no, sah. He's lookin' for his wife. THE CONDUCTOR (with suspicion). Is she aboard this car? MR. ROBERTS (striving to propitiate THE CONDUCTOR by a dastardlyamiability). Oh, yes, yes. There's no mistake about the car--theGovernor Marcy. She telegraphed the name just before you left Albany, sothat I could find her at Boston in the morning. Ah! THE CONDUCTOR. At Boston. [Sternly. ] Then what are you trying to findher at Worcester in the middle of the night for? MR. ROBERTS. Why--I--that is-- THE PORTER (taking compassion on MR. ROBERTS'S inability to continue). Says he wanted to surprise her. MR. ROBERTS. Ha--yes, exactly. A little caprice, you know. THE CONDUCTOR. Well, that may all be so. [MR. ROBERTS continues tosmile in agonized helplessness against THE CONDUCTOR'S injurious tone, which becomes more and more offensively patronizing. ] But _I_ can't doanything for you. Here are all these people asleep in their berths, andI can't go round waking them up because you want to surprise your wife. MR. ROBERTS. No, no; of course not. I never thought-- THE CONDUCTOR. My advice to _you_ is to have a berth made up, and go tobed till we get to Boston, and surprise your wife by telling her what youtried to do. MR. ROBERTS (unable to resent the patronage of this suggestion). Well, Idon't know but I will. THE CONDUCTOR (going out). The porter will make up the berth for you. MR. ROBERTS (to THE PORTER, who is about to pull down the upper berthover a vacant seat). Ah! Er--I--I don't think I'll trouble you to makeit up; it's so near morning now. Just bring me a pillow, and I'll try toget a nap without lying down. [He takes the vacant seat. ] THE PORTER. All right, sah. [He goes to the end of the car and returns with a pillow. ] MR. ROBERTS. Ah--porter! THE PORTER. Yes, sah. MR. ROBERTS. Of course you didn't notice; but you don't think you _did_notice who was in that berth yonder? [He indicates a certain berth. ] THE PORTER. Dat's a gen'leman in dat berth, I think, sah. MR. ROBERTS (astutely). There's a bonnet hanging from the hook at thetop. I'm not sure, but it looks like my wife's bonnet. THE PORTER (evidently shaken by this reasoning, but recovering hisfirmness). Yes, sah. But you can't depend upon de ladies to hang deirbonnets on de right hook. Jes' likely as not dat lady's took de hook atde foot of her berth instead o' de head. Sometimes dey takes both. MR. ROBERTS. Ah! [After a pause. ] Porter! THE PORTER. Yes, sah. MR. ROBERTS. You wouldn't feel justified in looking? THE PORTER. I couldn't, sah; I couldn't, indeed. MR. ROBERTS (reaching his left hand toward THE PORTER'S, and pressing ahalf dollar into his instantly responsive palm). But there's nothing toprevent _my_ looking if I feel perfectly sure of the bonnet? THE PORTER. N-no, sah. MR. ROBERTS. All right. [THE PORTER retires to the end of the car, and resumes the work ofpolishing the passengers' boots. After an interval of quiet, MR. ROBERTSrises, and, looking about him with what he feels to be melodramaticstealth, approaches the suspected berth. He unloops the curtain with atrembling hand, and peers ineffectually in; he advances his head furtherand further into the darkened recess, and then suddenly dodges backagain, with THE CALIFORNIAN hanging to his neckcloth with one hand. ] THE CALIFORNIAN (savagely). What do you want? MR. ROBERTS (struggling and breathless). I--I--I want my wife. THE CALIFORNIAN. Want your wife! Have _I_ got your wife? MR. ROBERTS. No--ah--that is--ah, excuse me--I thought you _were_ mywife. THE CALIFORNIAN (getting out of the berth, but at the same time keepinghold of MR. ROBERTS). Thought I was your _wife_! Do I look like yourwife? You can't play that on me, old man. Porter! conductor! MR. ROBERTS (agonized). Oh, I beseech you, my dear sir, don't--don't! Ican explain it--I can indeed. I know it has an ugly look; but if youwill allow me two words--only two words-- MRS. ROBERTS (suddenly parting the curtain of her berth, and springingout into the aisle, with her hair wildly dishevelled). Edward! MR. ROBERTS. Oh, Agnes, explain to this gentleman! [Imploringly. ] Don'tyou know me? A VOICE. Make him show you the strawberry mark on his left arm. MRS. ROBERTS. Edward! Edward! [THE CALIFORNIAN mechanically looses hisgrip, and they fly into each other's embrace. ] Where did you come from? A VOICE. Centre door, left hand, one back. THE CONDUCTOR (returning with his lantern). Hallo! What's the matterhere? A VOICE. Train robbers! Throw up your hands! Tell theexpress-messenger to bring his safe. [The passengers emerge from their berths in various deshabille andbewilderment. ] THE CONDUCTOR (to MR. ROBERTS). Have you been making all this row, waking up my passengers? THE CALIFORNIAN. No, sir, he hasn't. I've been making this row. Thisgentleman was peaceably looking for his wife, and I misunderstood him. You want to say anything to me? THE CONDUCTOR (silently taking THE CALIFORNIAN'S measure with his eye, ashe stands six fret in his stockings). If I did, I'd get the biggestbrakeman I could find to do it for me. _I've_ got nothing to say exceptthat I think you'd better all go back to bed again. [He goes out, and the passengers disappear one by one, leaving theROBERTSES and THE CALIFORNIAN alone. ] THE CALIFORNIAN (to MR. ROBERTS). Stranger, I'm sorry I got you intothis scrape. MR. ROBERTS. Oh, don't speak of it, my dear sir. I'm sure we owe youall sorts of apologies, which I shall be most happy to offer you at myhouse in Boston, with every needful explanation. [He takes out his card, and gives it to THE CALIFORNIAN, who looks at it, and then looks at MR. ROBERTS curiously. ] There's my address, and I'm sure we shall both beglad to have you call. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, yes indeed. [THE CALIFORNIAN parts the curtains ofhis berth to re-enter it. ] Good-night, sir, and I assure you _we_ shalldo nothing more to disturb you--shall we, Edward? MR. ROBERTS. No. And now, dear, I think you'd better go back to yourberth. MRS. ROBERTS. I couldn't sleep, and I shall not go back. Is this yourplace? I will just rest my head on your shoulder; and we must both beperfectly quiet. You've no idea what a nuisance I have been making ofmyself. The whole car was perfectly furious at me one time, I kepttalking so loud. I don't know how I came to do it, but I suppose it wasthinking about you and Willis meeting without knowing each other made menervous, and I couldn't be still. I woke everybody up with my talking, and some of them were quite outrageous in their remarks; but I didn'tblame them the least bit, for I should have been just as bad. ThatCalifornia gentleman was perfectly splendid, though. I can tell you _he_made them stop. We struck up quite a friendship. I told him I had abrother coming on from California, and he's going to try to think whetherhe knows Willis. [Groans and inarticulate protests make themselves heardfrom different berths. ] I declare, I've got to talking again! There, now, I _shall_ stop, and they won't hear another squeak from me the restof the night. [She lifts her head from her husband's shoulder. ] Iwonder if baby will roll out. He _does_ kick so! And I just sprang upand left him when I heard your voice, without putting anything to keephim in. I _must_ go and have a look at him, or I never can settle down. No, no, don't you go, Edward; you'll be prying into all the wrong berthsin the car, you poor thing! You stay here, and I'll be back in half asecond. I wonder which is my berth. Ah! that's it; I know the one now. [She makes a sudden dash at a berth, and pulling open the curtains isconfronted by the bearded visage of THE CALIFORNIAN. ] Ah! Ow! ow!Edward! Ah! I--I beg your pardon, sir; excuse me; I didn't know it wasyou. I came for my baby. THE CALIFORNIAN (solemnly). I haven't got any baby, ma'am. MRS. ROBERTS. No--no--I thought you were my baby. THE CALIFORNIAN. Perhaps I am, ma'am; I've lost so much sleep I couldcry, anyway. Do I _look_ like your baby? MRS. ROBERTS. No, no, you don't. [In distress that overcomes hermortification. ] Oh, where is my baby? I left him all uncovered, andhe'll take his death of cold, even if he doesn't roll out. Oh, Edward, Edward, help me to find baby! MR. ROBERTS (bustling aimlessly about). Yes, yes; certainly, my dear. But don't be alarmed; we shall find him. THE CALIFORNIAN (getting out in his stocking feet). We shall find him, ma'am, if we have to search every berth in this car. Don't you take on. That baby's going to be found if he's aboard the train, now, you bet! [Helooks about and then tears open the curtains of a berth at random. ] Thatyour baby, ma'am? MRS. ROBERTS (flying upon the infant thus exposed). Oh, _baby_, baby, baby!! I thought I had lost you. Um! um! um! [She clasps him in her arms, and covers his face and neck with kisses. ] THE CALIFORNIAN (as he gets back into his berth, sotto voce). I wish I_had_ been her baby. MRS. ROBERTS (returning with her husband to his seat, and bringing thebaby with her). There! Did you ever see such a sleeper, Edward? [Inher ecstasy she abandons all control of her voice, and joyfullyexclaims. ] He has slept all through this excitement, without a wink. A solemn Voice from one of the berths. I envy him. [A laugh follows, in which all the passengers join. ] MRS. ROBERTS (in a hoarse whisper, breaking a little with laughter). Oh, my goodness! there I went again. But how funny! I assure you, Edward, that if their remarks had not been about me, I could have really quiteenjoyed some of them. I wish there had been somebody here to take themdown. And I hope I shall see some of the speakers in the morningbefore--Edward, I've got an idea! MR. ROBERTS (endeavoring to teach his wife by example to lower her voice, which has risen again). What--what is it, my dear? MRS. ROBERTS. Why, don't you see? How perfectly ridiculous it was of menot to think of it before! though I did think of it once, and hadn't thecourage to insist upon it. But of course it is; and it accounts for hisbeing so polite and kind to me through all, and it's the only thing thatcan. Yes, yes, it must be. MR. ROBERTS (mystified). What? MRS. ROBERTS. Willis. MR. ROBERTS. Who? MRS. ROBERTS. This Californian. MR. ROBERTS. Oh! MRS. ROBERTS. No _stranger_ could have been so patientand--and--attentive; and I know that he recognized me from the first, andhe's just kept it up for a joke, so as to surprise us and have a goodlaugh at us when we get to Boston. Of _course_ it's Willis. MR. ROBERTS (doubtfully). Do you think so, my dear? MRS. ROBERTS. I _know_ it. Didn't you notice how he looked at yourcard? And I want you to go at once and speak to him, and turn the tableson him. MR. ROBERTS. I--I'd rather _not_, my dear. MRS. ROBERTS. Why, Edward, what can you mean? MR. ROBERTS. He's very violent. Suppose it _shouldn't_ be Willis? MRS. ROBERTS. Nonsense! It _is_ Willis. Come, let's both go and justtax him with it. He can't deny it, after all he's done for me. [Shepulls her reluctant husband toward THE CALIFORNIAN'S berth, and they eachdraw a curtain. ] Willis! THE CALIFORNIAN (with plaintive endurance). Well, ma'am? MRS. ROBERTS (triumphantly). There! I knew it was you all along. Howcould you play such a joke on me? THE CALIFORNIAN. I didn't know there'd been any joke; but I supposethere must have been, if you say so. Who am I now, ma'am--your husband, or your baby, or your husband's wife, or-- MRS. ROBERTS. How funny you are! You _know_ you're Willis Campbell, myonly brother. Now _don't_ try to keep it up any longer, Willis. [Voices from various berths. "Give us a rest, Willis!" "Joke's toothin, Willis!" "You're played out, Willis!" "Own up, old fellow--ownup!"] THE CALIFORNIAN (issuing from his berth, and walking up and down theaisle, as before, till quiet is restored). I haven't got any sister, andmy name ain't Willis, and it ain't Campbell. I'm very sorry, because I'dlike to oblige you any way I could. MRS. ROBERTS (in deep mortification). It's I who ought to apologize, andI do most humbly. I don't know what to say; but when I got to thinkingabout it, and how kind you had been to me, and how sweet you had beenunder all my--interruptions, I felt perfectly sure that you couldn't be amere stranger, and then the idea struck me that you must be my brother indisguise; and I was so certain of it that I couldn't help just lettingyou know that we'd found you out, and-- MR. ROBERTS (offering a belated and feeble moral support). Yes. MRS. ROBERTS (promptly turning upon him). And _you_ ought to have keptme from making such a simpleton of myself, Edward. THE CALIFORNIAN (soothingly). Well, ma'am, that ain't always so easy. Aman may mean well, and yet not be able to carry out his intentions. Butit's all right. And I reckon we'd better try to quiet down again, andget what rest we can. MRS. ROBERTS. Why, yes, certainly; and I will try--oh, I will _try_ notto disturb you again. And if there's anything we can do in reparationafter we reach Boston, we shall be so glad to do it! [They bow themselves away, and return to their seat, while THECALIFORNIAN re-enters his berth. ] III. The train stops at Framingham, and THE PORTER comes in with a passengerwhom he shows to the seat opposite MR. And MRS. ROBERTS. THE PORTER. You can sit here, sah. We'll be in in about an hour now. Hang up your bag for you, sah? THE PASSENGER. No, leave it on the seat here. [THE PORTER goes out, and the ROBERTSES maintain a dejected silence. Thebottom of the bag, thrown carelessly on the seat, is toward theROBERTSES, who regard it listlessly. ] MRS. ROBERTS (suddenly clutching her husband's arm, and hissing in hisear). See! [She points to the white lettering on the bag, where thename "Willis Campbell, San Francisco, " is distinctly legible. ] But itcan't be; it must be some other Campbell. I can't risk it. MR. ROBERTS. But there's the name. It would be very strange if therewere two people from San Francisco of exactly the same name. _I_ willspeak. MRS. ROBERTS (as wildly as one can in whisper). No, no, I can't let you. We've made ourselves the laughing-stock of the whole car already with ourmistakes, and I can't go on. I would rather perish than ask him. Youdon't suppose it _could_ be? No, it couldn't. There may be twentyWillis Campbells in San Francisco, and there probably are. Do you thinkhe looks like me! He has a straight nose; but you can't tell anythingabout the lower part of his face, the beard covers it so; and I can'tmake out the color of his eyes by this light. But of course it's allnonsense. Still if it _should_ be! It would be very stupid of us toride all the way from Framingham to Boston with that name staring one inthe eyes. I wish he would turn it away. If it really turned out to _be_Willis, he would think we were awfully stiff and cold. But I can't helpit; I _can't_ go attacking every stranger I see, and accusing him ofbeing my brother. No, no, I can't, and I _won't_, and that's all aboutit. [She leans forward and addresses the stranger with suddensweetness. ] Excuse me, sir, but I _am_ very much interested by the nameon your bag. Not that I think you are even acquainted with him, andthere are probably a great many of them there; but your coming from thesame city and all _does_ seem a little queer, and I hope you won't thinkme intrusive in speaking to you, because if you _should_ happen, by thethousandth of a chance, to be the right one, I should be _so_ happy! CAMPBELL. The right what, madam? MRS. ROBERTS. The right Willis Campbell. CAMPBELL. I hope I'm not the wrong one; though after a week's pull onthe railroad it's pretty hard for a man to tell which Willis Campbell heis. May I ask if your Willis Campbell had friends in Boston? MRS. ROBERTS (eagerly). He had a sister and a brother-in-law and anephew. CAMPBELL. Name of Roberts? MRS. ROBERTS. Every one. CAMPBELL. Then you're-- MRS. ROBERTS (ecstatically). Agnes! CAMPBELL. And he's-- MRS. ROBERTS. Mr. Roberts! CAMPBELL. And the baby's-- MRS. ROBERTS. Asleep! CAMPBELL. Then _I_ am the right one. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, Willis! Willis! Willis! To think of our meeting inthis way! [She kisses and embraces him, while MR. ROBERTS shakes one ofhis hands which he finds disengaged. ] _How_ in the world did it happen? CAMPBELL. Ah, I found myself a little ahead of time, and I stopped offwith an old friend of mine at Framingham; I didn't want to disappoint youwhen you came to meet this train, or get you up last night at midnight. MRS. ROBERTS. And I was in Albany, and I've been moving heaven and earthto get home before you arrived; and Edward came aboard at Worcester tosurprise me, and--Oh, you've never seen the baby! I'll run right and gethim this instant, just as he is, and bring him. Edward, you beexplaining to Willis--Oh, my goodness! [Looking wildly about. ] I don'tremember the berth, and I shall be sure to wake up that poor Californiagentleman again. _What_ shall I do? CAMPBELL. What California gentleman? MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, somebody we've been stirring up the whole blessednight. First I took him for baby, and then Edward took him for me, andthen I took him for baby again, and then we both took him for you. CAMPBELL. Did he look like any of us? MRS. ROBERTS. Like _us_? He's eight feet tall, if he's an inch, in hisstockings--and he's always in them--and he has a long black beard andmustaches, and he's very lanky, and stoops over a good deal; but he'sjust as lovely as he can be and live, and he's been as kind and patientas twenty Jobs. CAMPBELL. Speaks in a sort of soft, slow grind? MRS. ROBERTS. Yes. CAMPBELL. Gentle and deferential to ladies? MRS. ROBERTS. As pie. CAMPBELL. It's Tom Goodall. I'll have him out of there in half asecond. I want you to take him home with you, Agnes. He's the bestfellow in the world. _Which_ is his berth? MRS. ROBERTS. Don't ask me, Willis. But if you'd go for baby, you'll besure to find him. MR. ROBERTS (timidly indicating a berth). I think that's the one. CAMPBELL (plunging at it, and pulling the curtains open). You old TomGoodall! THE CALIFORNIAN (appearing). I ain't any Tom Goodall. My name's AbramSawyer. CAMPBELL (falling back). Well, sir, you're right. I'm awfully sorry todisturb you; but, from my sister's description here, I felt certain youmust be my old friend Tom Goodall. THE CALIFORNIAN. I ain't surprised at it. I'm only surprised I _ain't_Tom Goodall. I've been a baby twice, and I've been a man's wife once, and once I've been a long-lost brother. CAMPBELL (laughing). Oh, they've found _him_. _I'm_ the long-lostbrother. THE CALIFORNIAN (sleepily). Has she found the other one? CAMPBELL. Yes; all right, I believe. THE CALIFORNIAN. Has _he_ found what _he_ wanted? CAMPBELL. Yes; we're all together here. [THE CALIFORNIAN makes amovement to get into bed again. ] Oh, don't! You'd better make a nightof it now. It's almost morning anyway. We want you to go home with us, and Mrs. Roberts will give you a bed at her house, and let you sleep aweek. THE CALIFORNIAN. Well, I reckon you're right, stranger. I seem to be inthe hands of Providence tonight anyhow. [He pulls on his boots and coat, and takes his seat beside CAMPBELL. ] I reckon there ain't any use infighting against Providence. MRS. ROBERTS (briskly, as if she had often tried it and failed). Oh, notthe least in the world. I'm sure it was all intended; and if you hadturned out to be Willis at last, I should be _certain_ of it. Whatsurprises me is that you shouldn't turn out to be anybody, after all. THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, it is kind of curious. But I couldn't help it. Idid my best. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, don't speak of it. _We_ are the ones who ought toapologize. But if you only had been somebody, it would have been such agood joke! We could always have had such a laugh over it, don't you see? THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, ma'am, it would have been funny. But I hopeyou've enjoyed it as it is. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, very much, thanks to you. Only I can't seem to getreconciled to your not being anybody, after all. You _must_ at least besome one we've heard about, don't you think? It's so strange that youand Willis never even met. Don't you think you have some acquaintancesin common? CAMPBELL. Look here, Agnes, do you always shout at the top of your voicein this way when you converse in a sleeping-car? MRS. ROBERTS. Was I talking loud again? Well, you can't help it if youwant to make people hear you. CAMPBELL. But there must be a lot of them who don't want to hear you. Iwonder that the passengers who are not blood-relations don't throw thingsat you--boots and hand-bags and language. MRS. ROBERTS. Why, that's what they've _been_ doing--language, atleast--and I'm only surprised they're not doing it now. THE CALIFORNIAN (rising). They'd better not, ma'am. [He patrols the car from end to end, and quells some rising murmurs, halting at the rebellious berths as he passes. ] MRS. ROBERTS (enraptured by his companionship). Oh, he _must_ be someconnection. [She glances through the window. ] I do believe that wasNewton, or Newtonville, or West Newton, or Newton Centre. I must run andwake up baby, and get him dressed. I shan't want to wait an instantafter we get in. Why, we're slowing up! Why, I do believe we're there!Edward, we're there! Only fancy being there already! MR. ROBERTS. Yes, my dear. Only we're not quite there yet. Hadn't webetter call your aunt Mary? MRS. ROBERTS. I'd forgotten her. CAMPBELL. Is Aunt Mary with you? MRS. ROBERTS. To be sure she is. Didn't I tell you? She came onexpressly to meet you. CAMPBELL (starting up impetuously). Which berth is she in? MRS. ROBERTS. Right over baby. CAMPBELL. And which berth is baby in? MRS. ROBERTS (distractedly). Why, that's just what I can't _tell_. Itwas bad enough when they were all filled up, but now since the peoplehave begun to come out of them, and some of them are made into seats Ican't tell. THE CALIFORNIAN. I'll look for you, ma'am. I should like to wake up allthe wrong passengers on this car. I'd take a pleasure in it. If youcould make sure of any berth that _ain't_ the one, I'll begin on that. MRS. ROBERTS. I can't even be sure of the wrong one. No, no; youmustn't--[THE CALIFORNIAN moves away, and pauses in front of one of theberths, looking back inquiringly at MRS. ROBERTS. ] Oh, don't ask _me_!_I_ can't tell. [To CAMPBELL. ] _Isn't_ he amusing? So like all thoseCalifornians that one reads of--so chivalrous and _so_ humorous! AUNT MARY (thrusting her head from the curtains of the berth before whichTHE CALIFORNIAN is standing). Go along with you! What do you want? THE CALIFORNIAN. Aunt Mary. AUNT MARY. Go away. Aunt Mary, indeed! MRS. ROBERTS (running toward her, followed by CAMPBELL and MR. ROBERTS). Why, Aunt Mary, it _is_ you! And here's Willis, and here's Edward. AUNT MARY. Nonsense! How did they get aboard? MRS. ROBERTS. Edward came on at Worcester and Willis at Framingham, tosurprise me. AUNT MARY. And a very silly performance. Let them wait till I'mdressed, and then I'll talk to them. Send for the porter. [Shewithdraws her head behind the curtain, and then thrusts it out again. ]And who, pray, may _this_ be? [She indicates THE CALIFORNIAN. ] MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, a friend of ours from California, who's been so kindto us all night, and who's going home with us. AUNT MARY. Another ridiculous surprise, I suppose. But he shall notsurprise _me_. Young man, isn't your name Sawyer? THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, ma'am. AUNT MARY. Abram? THE CALIFORNIAN. Abram Sawyer. You're right there, ma'am. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh! oh! I knew it! I knew that he must be somebodybelonging to us. Oh, thank you, aunty, for thinking-- AUNT MARY. Don't be absurd, Agnes. Then you're my-- A VOICE from one of the berths. Lost step-son. Found! found at last! [THE CALIFORNIAN looks vainly round in an endeavor to identify thespeaker, and then turns again to AUNT MARY. ] AUNT MARY. Weren't your parents from Bath? THE CALIFORNIAN (eagerly). Both of 'em, ma'am--both of 'em. THE VOICE. O my prophetic soul, my uncle! AUNT MARY. Then you're my old friend Kate Harris's daughter? THE CALIFORNIAN. I might be her _son_, ma'am; but _my_ mother's name wasSusan Wakeman. AUNT MARY (in sharp disgust). Call the porter, please. [She withdraws her head and pulls her curtains together; the rest lookblankly at one another. ] CAMPBELL. Another failure, and just when we thought we were sure of you. I don't know what we shall do about you, Mr. Sawyer. THE VOICE. Adopt him. CAMPBELL. That's a good idea. We will adopt you. You shall be ouradoptive-- THE VOICE. Baby boy. ANOTHER VOICE. Wife. A THIRD VOICE. Brother. A FOURTH VOICE. Early friend. A FIFTH VOICE. Kate Harris's daughter. CAMPBELL (laying his hand on THE CALIFORNIAN'S shoulder, and breakinginto a laugh). Don't mind them. They don't mean anything. It's justtheir way. You come home with my sister, and spend Christmas, and let usdevote the rest of our lives to making your declining years happy. VOICES. "Good for you, Willis!" "We'll all come!" "No ceremony!""Small and early!" CAMPBELL (looking round). We appear to have fallen in with a party ofdry-goods drummers. It makes a gentleman feel like an intruder. [Thetrain stops; he looks out of the window. ] We've arrived. Come, Agnes;come, Roberts; come, Mr. Sawyer--let's be going. [They gather up their several wraps and bags, and move with great dignitytoward the door. ] AUNT MARY (putting out her head). Agnes! If you must forget your aunt, at least remember your child. MRS. ROBERTS (running back in an agony of remorse). Oh, _baby_, did Iforget you? CAMPBELL. Oh, _aunty_, did she forget you? [He runs back, and extendshis arms to his aunt. ] Let me help you down, Aunt Mary. AUNT MARY. Nonsense, Willis. Send the porter. CAMPBELL (turning round and confronting THE PORTER). He was here uponinstinct. Shall he fetch a step-ladder? AUNT MARY. _He_ will know what to do. Go away, Willis; go away withthat child, Agnes. If I should happen to fall on you--[They retreat; thecurtain drops, and her voice is heard behind it addressing THE PORTER. ]Give me your hand; now your back; now your knee. So! And very welldone. Thanks.