Ah! Er—I—I don’t think I’ll trouble you to make it up; it’s so near morning now. Just bring me a pillow, and I’ll try to get 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 the top. I’m not sure, but it looks like my wife’s bonnet.
THE PORTER (evidently shaken by this reasoning, but recovering his firmness). Yes, sah. But you can’t depend upon de ladies to hang deir bonnets on de right hook. Jes’ likely as not dat lady’s took de hook at de 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 a half dollar into his instantly responsive palm). But there’s nothing to prevent 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 of polishing the passengers’ boots. After an interval of quiet, MR. ROBERTS rises, and, looking about him with what he feels to be melodramatic stealth, approaches the suspected berth. He unloops the curtain with a trembling hand, and peers ineffectually in; he advances his head further and further into the darkened recess, and then suddenly dodges back again, 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 my wife.
THE CALIFORNIAN (getting out of the berth, but at the same time keeping hold of MR. ROBERTS). Thought I was your wife! Do I look like your wife? 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! I can explain it—I can indeed. I know it has an ugly look; but if you will allow me two words—only two words—
MRS. ROBERTS (suddenly parting the curtain of her berth, and springing out into the aisle, with her hair wildly dishevelled). Edward!
MR. ROBERTS. Oh, Agnes, explain to this gentleman! [Imploringly.] Don’t you know me?
A VOICE. Make him show you the strawberry mark on his left arm.
MRS. ROBERTS. Edward! Edward! [THE CALIFORNIAN mechanically looses his grip, 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 matter here?
A VOICE. Train robbers! Throw up your hands! Tell the express-messenger to bring his safe.
[The passengers emerge from their berths in various deshabille and bewilderment.]
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. This gentleman 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, as he stands six fret in his stockings). If I did, I’d get the biggest brakeman I could find to do it for me. I’ve got nothing to say except that I think you’d better all go back to bed again.
[He goes out, and the passengers disappear one by one, leaving the ROBERTSES and THE CALIFORNIAN alone.]
THE CALIFORNIAN (to MR. ROBERTS). Stranger, I’m sorry I got you into this scrape.
MR. ROBERTS. Oh, don’t speak of it, my dear sir. I’m sure we owe you all sorts of apologies, which I shall be most happy to offer you at my house 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 be glad to have you call.
MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, yes indeed. [THE CALIFORNIAN parts the curtains of his berth to re-enter it.] Good-night, sir, and I assure you we shall do nothing more to disturb you—shall we, Edward?
MR. ROBERTS. No. And now, dear, I think you’d better go back to your berth.
MRS. ROBERTS. I couldn’t sleep, and I shall not go back. Is this your place? I will just rest my head on your shoulder; and we must both be perfectly quiet. You’ve no idea what a nuisance I have been making of myself. The whole car was perfectly furious at me one time, I kept talking so loud. I don’t know how I came to do it, but I suppose it was thinking about you and Willis meeting without knowing each other made me nervous, 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’t blame them the least bit, for I should have been just as bad. That California gentleman was perfectly splendid, though. I can tell you he made them stop. We struck up quite a friendship. I told him I had a brother coming on from California, and he’s going to try to think whether he knows Willis. [Groans and inarticulate protests make themselves heard from 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 rest of the night. [She lifts her head from her husband’s shoulder.] I wonder if baby will roll out. He does kick so! And I just sprang up and left him when I heard your voice, without putting anything to keep him 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 berths in the car, you poor thing! You stay here, and I’ll be back in half a second. 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 is confronted 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 was you. 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 could cry, anyway. Do I look like your baby?
