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.