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