The Sleeping Car

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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?

MRS. ROBERTS. No, no, you don't. [In distress that overcomes her
mortification.] Oh, where is my baby? I left him all uncovered, and
he'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! [He
looks about and then tears open the curtains of a berth at random.] That
your 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 the
baby with her). There! Did you ever see such a sleeper, Edward? [In
her ecstasy she abandons all control of her voice, and joyfully
exclaims.] 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 quite
enjoyed some of them. I wish there had been somebody here to take them
down. And I hope I shall see some of the speakers in the morning
before--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 me
not to think of it before! though I did think of it once, and hadn't the
courage to insist upon it. But of course it is; and it accounts for his
being so polite and kind to me through all, and it's the only thing that
can. 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 patient
and--and--attentive; and I know that he recognized me from the first, and
he's just kept it up for a joke, so as to surprise us and have a good
laugh 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 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 _be_
Willis, he would think we were awfully stiff and cold. But I can't help
it; I _can't_ go attacking every stranger I see, and accusing him of
being my brother. No, no, I can't, and I _won't_, and that's all about
it. [She leans forward and addresses the stranger with sudden
sweetness.] Excuse me, sir, but I _am_ very much interested by the name
on your bag. Not that I think you are even acquainted with him, and
there are probably a great many of them there; but your coming from the
same city and all _does_ seem a little queer, and I hope you won't think
me intrusive in speaking to you, because if you _should_ happen, by the
thousandth 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 on
the railroad it's pretty hard for a man to tell which Willis Campbell he
is. May I ask if your Willis Campbell had friends in Boston?

MRS. ROBERTS (eagerly). He had a sister and a brother-in-law and a
nephew.

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 in
this way! [She kisses and embraces him, while MR. ROBERTS shakes one of
his 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 off
with an old friend of mine at Framingham; I didn't want to disappoint you
when 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 earth
to get home before you arrived; and Edward came aboard at Worcester to
surprise me, and--Oh, you've never seen the baby! I'll run right and get
him this instant, just as he is, and bring him. Edward, you be
explaining to Willis--Oh, my goodness! [Looking wildly about.] I don't
remember the berth, and I shall be sure to wake up that poor California
gentleman again. _What_ shall I do?

CAMPBELL. What California gentleman?

MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, somebody we've been stirring up the whole blessed
night. First I took him for baby, and then Edward took him for me, and
then 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 his
stockings--and he's always in them--and he has a long black beard and
mustaches, and he's very lanky, and stoops over a good deal; but he's
just as lovely as he can be and live, and he's been as kind and patient
as 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 a
second. I want you to take him home with you, Agnes. He's the best
fellow in the world. _Which_ is his berth?

MRS. ROBERTS. Don't ask me, Willis. But if you'd go for baby, you'll be
sure 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 Tom
Goodall!

THE CALIFORNIAN (appearing). I ain't any Tom Goodall. My name's Abram
Sawyer.

CAMPBELL (falling back). Well, sir, you're right. I'm awfully sorry to
disturb you; but, from my sister's description here, I felt certain you
must 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-lost
brother.

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 a
movement to get into bed again.] Oh, don't! You'd better make a night
of 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 a
week.

THE CALIFORNIAN. Well, I reckon you're right, stranger. I seem to be in
the 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 in
fighting against Providence.

MRS. ROBERTS (briskly, as if she had often tried it and failed). Oh, not
the least in the world. I'm sure it was all intended; and if you had
turned out to be Willis at last, I should be _certain_ of it. What
surprises 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. I
did my best.

MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, don't speak of it. _We_ are the ones who ought to
apologize. But if you only had been somebody, it would have been such a
good 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 hope
you've enjoyed it as it is.

MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, very much, thanks to you. Only I can't seem to get
reconciled to your not being anybody, after all. You _must_ at least be
some one we've heard about, don't you think? It's so strange that you
and Willis never even met. Don't you think you have some acquaintances
in common?

CAMPBELL. Look here, Agnes, do you always shout at the top of your voice
in this way when you converse in a sleeping-car?

MRS. ROBERTS. Was I talking loud again? Well, you can't help it if you
want to make people hear you.

CAMPBELL. But there must be a lot of them who don't want to hear you. I
wonder that the passengers who are not blood-relations don't throw things
at you--boots and hand-bags and language.

MRS. ROBERTS. Why, that's what they've _been_ doing--language, at
least--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 some
connection. [She glances through the window.] I do believe that was
Newton, or Newtonville, or West Newton, or Newton Centre. I must run and
wake up baby, and get him dressed. I shan't want to wait an instant
after 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 we
better 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 on
expressly 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_. It
was bad enough when they were all filled up, but now since the people
have begun to come out of them, and some of them are made into seats I
can't tell.

THE CALIFORNIAN. I'll look for you, ma'am. I should like to wake up all
the wrong passengers on this car. I'd take a pleasure in it. If you
could 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; you
mustn't--[THE CALIFORNIAN moves away, and pauses in front of one of the
berths, looking back inquiringly at MRS. ROBERTS.] Oh, don't ask _me_!
_I_ can't tell. [To CAMPBELL.] _Isn't_ he amusing? So like all those
Californians that one reads of--so chivalrous and _so_ humorous!

AUNT MARY (thrusting her head from the curtains of the berth before which
THE 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, to
surprise me.

AUNT MARY. And a very silly performance. Let them wait till I'm
dressed, and then I'll talk to them. Send for the porter. [She
withdraws 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 kind
to us all night, and who's going home with us.

AUNT MARY. Another ridiculous surprise, I suppose. But he shall not
surprise _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 somebody
belonging 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 the
speaker, 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 was
Susan Wakeman.

AUNT MARY (in sharp disgust). Call the porter, please.

[She withdraws her head and pulls her curtains together; the rest look
blankly 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 our
adoptive--

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 breaking
into a laugh). Don't mind them. They don't mean anything. It's just
their way. You come home with my sister, and spend Christmas, and let us
devote 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 of
dry-goods drummers. It makes a gentleman feel like an intruder. [The
train 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 dignity
toward 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 I
forget you?

CAMPBELL. Oh, _aunty_, did she forget you? [He runs back, and extends
his 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 upon
instinct. Shall he fetch a step-ladder?

AUNT MARY. _He_ will know what to do. Go away, Willis; go away with
that child, Agnes. If I should happen to fall on you--[They retreat; the
curtain drops, and her voice is heard behind it addressing THE PORTER.]
Give me your hand; now your back; now your knee. So! And very well
done. Thanks.