The Sleeping-Car | Page 8

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 your
card? And I want you to go at once and speak to him, and turn the
tables on 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 just
tax him with it. He can't deny it, after all he's done for me. [She pulls
her reluctant husband toward THE CALIFORNIAN'S berth, and they
each draw a curtain.] Willis!
THE CALIFORNIAN (with plaintive endurance). Well, ma'am?
MRS. ROBERTS (triumphantly). There! I knew it was you all along.
How could you play such a joke on me?
THE CALIFORNIAN. I didn't know there'd been any joke; but I
suppose there 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, my only brother. Now _don't_ try to keep it up any longer,
Willis.
[Voices from various berths. "Give us a rest, Willis!" "Joke's too thin,
Willis!" "You're played out, Willis!" "Own up, old fellow--own up!"]
THE CALIFORNIAN (issuing from his berth, and walking up and
down the aisle, as before, till quiet is restored). I haven't got any sister,
and my name ain't Willis, and it ain't Campbell. I'm very sorry, because
I'd like to oblige you any way I could.
MRS. ROBERTS (in deep mortification). It's I who ought to apologize,
and I do most humbly. I don't know what to say; but when I got to
thinking about it, and how kind you had been to me, and how sweet
you had been under all my--interruptions, I felt perfectly sure that you
couldn't be a mere stranger, and then the idea struck me that you must
be my brother in disguise; and I was so certain of it that I couldn't help
just letting you 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
kept me from making such a simpleton of myself, Edward.
THE CALIFORNIAN (soothingly). Well, ma'am, that ain't always so
easy. A man may mean well, and yet not be able to carry out his
intentions. But it's all right. And I reckon we'd better try to quiet down
again, and get what rest we can.
MRS. ROBERTS. Why, yes, certainly; and I will try--oh, I will try not
to disturb you again. And if there's anything we can do in reparation

after we reach Boston, we shall be so glad to do it!
[They bow themselves away, and return to their seat, while THE
CALIFORNIAN re-enters his berth.]

III.
The train stops at Framingham, and THE PORTER comes in with a
passenger whom 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. The bottom of the bag, thrown carelessly on the seat, is toward
the ROBERTSES, who regard it listlessly.]
MRS. ROBERTS (suddenly clutching her husband's arm, and hissing
in his ear). See! [She points to the white lettering on the bag, where the
name "Willis Campbell, San Francisco," is distinctly legible.] But it
can'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 there
were two people from San Francisco of exactly the same name. I will
speak.
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 our mistakes, and I can't go on. I would rather perish than ask him.
You don't suppose it could be? No, it couldn't. There may be twenty
Willis Campbells in San Francisco, and there probably are. Do you
think he looks like me! He has a straight nose; but you can't tell
anything about the lower part of his face, the beard covers it so; and I
can't make out the color of his eyes by this light. But of course it's all
nonsense. Still if it should be! It would be very stupid of us to ride all
the way from Framingham to Boston with that name staring one in the
eyes. I wish he would turn it away. If it really turned out to