rth before him, and restores order by marching along the
aisle of the car in his stocking feet. The heads vanish behind the
curtains. As the laughter subsides, he returns to his berth, and after a
stare 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 erects
himself again with an air of baited wrath, and then suddenly breaks into
a 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!" the
occupants of the different berths gradually relapse into silence, and at
last, as the car lunges onward through the darkness, nothing is heard but
the rhythmical clank of the machinery, with now and then a burst of
audible slumber from MRS. ROBERTS'S aunt MARY.]

II.

At Worcester, where the train has made the usual stop, THE PORTER, with
his lantern on his arm, enters the car, preceding a gentleman somewhat
anxiously smiling; his nervous speech contrasts painfully with the
business-like impassiveness of THE PORTER, who refuses, with an air of
incredulity, to enter into the confidences which the gentleman seems
reluctant 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 at
Boston. But I--[struggling to give the situation dignity, but failing,
and throwing himself, with self-convicted silliness, upon THE PORTER'S
mercy.] 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 find
her?

MR. ROBERTS. Well--well--I don't know. I didn't consider. [He looks
down the aisle in despair at the close-drawn curtains of the berths, and
up at the dangling hats and bags and bonnets, and down at the chaos of
boots of both sexes on the floor.] I don't know _how_ I expected to find
her.

[MR. ROBERTS'S countenance falls, and he visibly sinks so low in his own
esteem and an imaginary public opinion that THE PORTER begins to have a
little compassion.]

THE PORTER. D