BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME
FROM THE
SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND
THE GIFT OF
Wciiru W. Sage
189X
a ^a^iss
5931
i<»J.mfe
Cornell University Library
PS 2027.S6 1911
The sleeping car.and other farces /by W.
3 1924 022 259 257
Cornell University
Library
The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.
There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022259257
38ooJus bj> B'tlliam Dean I)otoclls.
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HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
Boston and New York
THE SLEEPING-CAR AND
OTHER FARCES.
THE
SLEEPING-CAR
AND
OTHER FARCES
BY
WILLIAM D. HOWELLS
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
(Cfte RtoerjSi&e prc^s Cambribge
5
cr6
COPYRIGHT, 1876, 1SS3, 1SS4, 1SS5, iSSg, I9O4 AND I9II
BY W. D. HOWELLS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS.
i^The Parlor-Cab . . . * 11
The Sleeping-Cab 51
The Register 101
The Elevator 161
THE PARLOR-CAR.
FARCE.
THE PARLOR-CAR.
Scene : A Parlor-Car on the New York Central
Railroad. It is late afternoon in the early
autumn, with a cloudy sunset threatening rain.
The ear is unoccupied save by a gentleman, who
sits fronting one of the windows, with his feet
in another chair; a newspaper lies across his
lap ; his hat is drawn down over his eyes, and
he is apparently asleep. The rear door of the
car opens, and the conductor enters with a
young lady, heavily veiled, the porter coming
after with her wraps and travelling-bags. The
lady's air is of mingled anxiety and despera-
tion, with a certain fierceness of movement.
She casts a careless glance over the empty
chairs.
Conductor: "Here's your ticket, madam. You
can have any of the places you like here, or," —
glancing at the unconscious gentleman, and then
11
12 THE SLEEPING-CAR
at the young lady, — "if you prefer, you can go
and take that seat in the forward car."
Miss Lucy Galbraith: "Oh, I can't ride back-
wards. I'll stay here, please. Thank you." The
porter places her things in a chair by a window,
across the car from the sleeping gentleman, and
she throws herself wearily into the next seat,
wheels round in it, and lifting her veil gazes
absently out at the landscape. Her face, which
is very pretty, with a low forehead shadowed by
thick blond hair, shows the traces of tears. She
makes search in her pocket for her handkerchief,
which she presses to her eyes. The conductor,
lingering a moment, goes out.
Porter : " I^'ll be right here, at de end of de cah,
if you should happen to want anything, miss," —
making a feint of arranging the shawls and
satchels. " Should you like some dese things
hung up ? Well, dey'll be jus' as well in de
chair. We's pretty late dis afternoon; more'n
four hours behin' time. Ought to been into
Albany 'fore dis. Freight train off de track jus'
dis side o' Eochester, an' had to wait. Was you
going to stop at Schenectady, miss ? "
Miss Galbraith, absently : " At Schenectady ? "
After a pause, " Yes."
AND OTHER FAECES. 13
Porter: "Well, that's de next station, and
den de cans don't stop ag'in till dey git to
Albany. Anything else I can do for you now,
miss ? "
Miss Gatbraith* " No, no, thank you, nothing."
The Porter hesitates, takes off his cap, and
scratches his head with a murmur of embarrass-
ment. Miss Galbraith looks up at him inquiringly
and then suddenly takes out her porte-monnaie,
and fees him.
Porter : " Thank you, miss, thank you. If you
want anything at all, miss, I'm right dere at de
end of de cah." He goes out by the narrow
passage-way beside the smaller enclosed parlor.
Miss Galbraith looks askance at the sleeping gen-
tleman, and then, rising, goes to the large mirror,
to pin her veil, which has become loosened from
her hat. She gives a little start at sight of the
gentleman in the mirror, but arranges her head-
gear, and returning to her place looks out of the
window again. After a little while she moves
about uneasily in her chair, then leans forward,
and tries to raise her window ; she lifts it partly
up, when the catch slips from her fingers, and the
window falls shut again with a crash.
14 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Miss Galbraith : " Oh, dear, how provoking ! I
suppose I must call the porter." She rises from
her seat, but on attempting to move away she finds
that the skirt of her polonaise has been caught in
the falling window. She pulls at it, and then
tries to lift the window again, but the cloth has
wedged it in, and she cannot stir it. "Well, I
certainly think this is beyond endurance ! Porter !
Ah, — Porter! Oh, he'll never hear me in the
racket that these wheels are making ! I wish
they'd stop, — I " — The gentleman stirs in his
chair, lifts his head, listens, takes his feet down
from the other seat, rises abruptly, and comes to
Miss Galbraith' s side.
Mr. Allen Richards: "Will you allow me to
open the window for you ? " Starting back, " Miss
Galbraith!"
Miss Galbraith : " Al — Mr. Eichards ! " There
is a silence for some moments, in which they
remain looking at each other ; then, —
Mr. Richards : " Lucy " —
Miss Galbraith: "I forbid you to address me
in that way, Mr. Eichards."
Mr. Richards: "Why, you were just going to
call me Allen ! "
AND OTHER FAECES. 15
Miss Galbraith: "That was an accident, you
know very well, — an impulse " —
Mr. Richards : " Well, so is this."
Miss Galbraith: "Of which you ought to be
ashamed to take advantage. I wonder at your
presumption in speaking to me at all. It's quite
idle, I can assure you. Everything is at an end
between us. It seems that I bore with you too
long; but I'm thankful that I had the spirit to
act at last, and to act in time. And now . that
chance has thrown us together, I trust that you
will not force your conversation upon me. No
gentleman would, and I have always given you
credit for thinking yourself a gentleman. I re-
quest that you will not speak to me."
Mr. Richards : "You've spoken ten words to me
for every one of mine to you. But I won't annoy
you. I can't believe it, Lucy ; I can not believe it.
It seems like some rascally dream, and if I had
had any sleep since it happened, I should think I
\ad dreamed it."
Miss Galbraith : " Oh ! You were sleeping
soundly enough when I got into the car ! "
Mr. Richards : "I own it; I was perfectly used
np, and I had dropped off."
16 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Miss Galbraith, scornfully : " Then perhaps you
have dreamed it."
Mr. Richards : " I'll think so till you tell me
again that our engagement is broken; that the
faithful love of years is to go for nothing; that
you dismiss me with crael insult, without one
word of explanation, without a word of intelligible
accusation, even. It's too much ! I've been think-
ing it all over and over,' and I can't make head or
tail of it. I meant to see you again as soon as we
got to town, and implore you to hear me. Come,
it's a mighty serious matter, Lucy. I'm not a man
to put on heroics and that ; but I believe it'll play
the very deuce with me, Lucy, — that is to say,
Miss Galbraith, — I do indeed. If 11 give me a low
opinion of woman."
Miss Galbraith, averting her face : " Oh, a very
high opinion of woman you have had ! "
- Mr. Richards, with sentiment : " Well, there
was one woman whom I thought a perfect angel."
Miss Galbraith: "Indeed! May I ask her
name ? "
Mr. Richards, with a forlorn smile. " I shall be
obliged to describe her somewhat formally as —
Miss Galbraith."
AND OTHER FAECES. 17
Miss Galbraith : " Mr. Bichards ! "
Mr. Richards : " Why, you've just forbidden me
to say Lucy ! You must tell me, dearest, what I
have done to offend you. The worst criminals are
not condemned unheard, and I've always thought
you were merciful if not just. And now I only
ask you to be just."
Miss Galbraith, looking out of the window :
"You know very well what you've done. You
can't expect me to humiliate myself by putting
your offence into words."
Mr. Richards: "Upon my soul, I don't know
what you mean ! I don't know what I've done.
When you came at me, last night, with my ring
and presents and other little traps, you might have
knocked me down with the lightest of the lot. I
was perfectly dazed; I couldn't say anything be-
fore you were off, and all I could do was to hope
that you'd be more like yourself in the morning.
And in the morning, when I came round to Mrs.
Philips's, I found you were gone, and I came after
you by the next train."
Miss Galbraith : " Mr. Bichards, your personal
history for the last twenty-four hours is a matter
of perfect indifference to me, as it shall be for the
18 THE SLEEPING-CAR
next twenty-four hundred years. I see that you
are resolved to annoy me, and since you will not
leave the car, I must do so." She rises haughtily
from her seat, but the imprisoned skirt of her
polonaise twitches her abruptly back into her
chair. She bursts into tears. " Oh, what shall 1
do?"
Mr. Richards, dryly : " You shall do whatever
you like, Miss Galbraith, when I've set you free ;
for I see your dress is caught in the window. When
it's once out, I'll shut the window, and you caD
caU the porter to raise it." He leans forward over
her chair, and while she shrinks back the length
of her tether, he tugs at the window-fastening.
" I can't get at it. Would you be so good as to
stand up, — all you can ? " Miss Galbraith stands
up, droopingly, and Mr. Richards makes a move-
ment towards her, and then falls back. "No, that
won't do. Please sit down again." He goes
round her chair and tries to get at the window
from that side. " I can't get any purchase on it.
Why don't you cut out that piece ? " Miss Gal-
braith stares at him in dumb amazement. " Well,
I don't see what we're to do. I'll go and get the
porter." He goes to the end of the car, and
AND OTHBE PABCBS. 19
returns. " I can't find the porter, — he must be in
one of the other cars. But" — brightening with
the fortunate conception — " I've just thought of
something. Will it unbutton ? "
Miss Galbraith : " Unbutton ? "
Mr. Richards : "Yes ; this garment of yours."
Miss Galbraith : " My polonaise ? " Inquir-
ingly, "Yes."
Mr. Richards: "Well, then, it's a very simple
matter. If you will just take it off I caa
easily " —
Miss Galbraith, faintly : " I can't. A polonaise
isn't like an overcoat " —
Mr. Richards, with dismay : " Oh ! Well,
then" — He remains thinking a moment in
hopeless perplexity.
Miss Galbraith, with polite ceremony: "The
porter will be back soon. Don't trouble yourself
any further about it, please. I shall do very
well."
Mr. Richards, without heeding her: "If you
could kneel on that foot-cushion, and face the
window " —
Miss Galbraith, kneeling promptly : " So ? "
Mr. Richards: "Yes, and now" — kneeling be-
20 THE SLEEPING-CAB
side her — "if you'll allow me to — to get at the
window-catch," — he stretches both arms forward ;
she shrinks from his right into his left, and
then back again, — "and pull, while I raise the
window " —
Miss Galbraith: "Yes, yes; but do hurry,
please. If any one saw us, I don't know what
they would think. It's perfectly ridiculous ! " —
pulling. " It's caught in the corner of the window,
between the frame and the sash, and it won't
come ! Is my hair troubling you ? Is it in your
eyes ? "
Mr. Richards: "It's in my eyes, but it isn't
troubling me. Am I inconveniencing you ? "
Miss Galbraith : " Oh, not at all."
Mr. Richard's: "Well, now then, pull hard!"
He lifts the window with a great effort; the
polonaise comes free with a start, and she strikes
violently against him. In supporting the shock
he cannot forbear catching her for an instant to
his heart. She frees herself, and starts indig-
nantly to her feet.
Miss Galbraith : " Oh, what a cowardly — subter-
fuge ! "
Mr. Richards : " Cowardly ? You've no idea
AND OTHER FAECES. 21
how much courage it took." Miss Galbraith puts
her handkerchief to her face, and sobs. " Oh, don't
cry ! Bless my heart, —I'm sorry I did it ! But
you know how dearly I love you, Lucy, though I
do think you've been cruelly unjust. I told you
I never should love any one else, and I never shall.
I couldn't help it; upon my soul, I couldn't.
Nobody could. Don't let it vex you, my " — He
approaches her.
Miss Galbraith: "Please not touch me, sir!
You have no longer any right whatever to do
so."
Mr. Richards: "You misinterpret a very in-
offensive gesture. I have no idea of touching you,
but I hope I may be allowed, as a special favor,
to — pick up my hat, which you are in the act of
stepping on." Miss Galbraith hastily turns, and
strikes the hat with her whirling skirts ; it rolls
to the other side of the parlor, and Mr. Richards,
who goes after it, utters an ironical "Thanks!"
He brushes it, and puts it on, looking at her
where she has again seated herself at the window
with her back to him, and continues, " As for any
further molestation from me " —
Miss Galbraith : "If you will talk to me " —
22 THE SLEEPING-OAB
Mr. Richards : " Excuse me, I am not talking to
you."
Miss Galbraith : " What were you doing ? "
Mr. Richards : "I was beginning to think aloud.
I — I was soliloquizing. I suppose I may be
allowed to soliloquize ? "
Miss Galbraith, very coldly : " You can do what
you like."
Mr. Richards : " Unfortunately that's just what
I can't do. If I could do as I liked, I should ask
you a single question."
Miss Galbraith, after a moment : " Well, sir, you
may ask your question." She remains as before,
with her chin in her hand, looking tearfully out of
the window ; her face is turned from Mr. Richards,
who hesitates a moment before he speaks.
Mr. Richards: "I wish to ask you just this,
Miss Galbraith: if you couldn't ride backwards
in the other car, why do you ride backwards in
this ? "
Miss Galbraith, burying her face in her hand-
kerchief, and sobbing : " Oh, oh, oh ! This is too
bad!"
Mr. Richards : u Oh, come now, Lucy. It breaks
my heart to hear you going on so, and all for
AND OTHER FARCES. 23
nothing. Be a little merciful to both of us, and
listen to me. I've no doubt I can explain every-
thing if I once understand it, but it's pretty hard
explaining a thing if you don't understand it your-i
self. Do turn round. I know it makes you sick
to ride in that way, and if you don't want to face
me — there!" — wheeling in his chair so as to
turn his back upon her — " you needn't. Though
it's rather trying to a fellow's politeness, not to
mention his other feelings. Now, what in the
name " —
Porter, who at this moment enters with his
step-ladder, and begins to light the lamps : " Going
pretty slow ag'in, sah."
Mr. Richards : " Yes ; what's the trouble? "
Porter: "Well, I don't know exactly, sah.
Something de matter with de locomotive. We
sha'n't be into Albany much 'fore eight o'clock."
Mr. Richards: "What's the next station?"
Porter: "Schenectady."
Mr. Richards : " Is the whole train as empty as
this car ? "
Porter, laughing: "Well, no, sah. Fact is, dia
cah don't belong on dis train. It's a Pullman that
we hitched on when you got in, and we's taking it
24 THE SLEEPING-CAB
along for one of de Eastern roads. We let you in
'cause de Drawing-rooms was all full. Same with
de lady," — looking sympathetically at her, as he
takes his steps to go out. "Can I do anything for
you now, miss ? "
Miss Galbraith, plaintively: "No, thank you;
nothing whatever." She has turned while Mr.
Richards and The Porter have been speaking, and
now faces the back of the former, but her veil is
drawn closely. The Porter goes put.
Mr. Richards, wheeling round so as to confront
her: "I wish you would speak to me half as
kindly as you do to that darky, Lucy."
Miss Galbraith : " He is a gentleman ! "
Mr. Richards: "He is an urbane and well-
informed nobleman. At any rate, he's a man and
a brother. But so am I." Miss Galbraith does
not reply, and after a pause Mr. Richards resumes.
"Talking of gentlemen, I recollect, once, coming
up on the day-boat to Poughkeepsie, there was a
poor devil of a tipsy man kept following a young
fellow about, and annoying him to death — trying
to fight him, as a tipsy man will, and insisting that
the young fellow had insulted him. By and by he
lost his balance and went overboard, and the other
A2JD OTHER FAECES. 25
jumped after him and fished him out." Sensation
on the part of Miss Galbraith, who stirs uneasily
in her chair, looks out of the window, then looks
at Mr. Richards, and drops her head. " There was
a young lady on board, who had seen the whole
thing — a very charming young lady indeed, with
pale blond hair growing very thick over her fore-,
head, and dark eyelashes to the sweetest blue eyes
in the world. Well, this young lady's papa was
amongst those who came up to say civil things to
the young fellow when he got aboard again, and to
ask the honor — he said the honor — of his ac-
quaintance. And when he came out of his state-
room in dry clothes, this infatuated old gentleman
was waiting for him, and took him and introduced
him to his wife and daughter ; and the daughter
said, with tears in her eyes, and a perfectly intoxi-
cating impulsiveness, that it was the grandest and
the most heroic and the noblest thing that she had
ever seen, and she should always be a better girl
for having seen it. Excuse me, Miss Galbraith,
for troubling you with these facts of a personal
history, which, as you say, is a matter of perfect
indifference to you. The young fellow didn't
think at the time he had done anything extraor-
26 THE SLEEPING-CAB
dinary ; but I don't suppose he did expect to live
to have the same girl tell him he was no gentle-
man."
Miss Galbraith, wildly : " Allen, Allen ! Tou
know I think you are a gentleman, and I always
did ! "
Mr. Biehards, languidly: "Oh, I merely had
your word for it, just now, that you didn't."
Tenderly, " Will you hear me, Lucy ? "
Miss Galbraith, faintly : " Yes."
Mr. Biehards: "Well, what is it I've done?
Will you tell me if I guess right ? "
Miss Galbraith, with dignity: "I am in no
humor for jesting, Allen. And I can assure you
that though I consent to hear what you have to
say, or ask, nothing will change my determination.
All is over between us."
Mr. Biehards: "Yes, I understand that, per-
fectly. I am now asking merely for general in-
formation. I do not expect you tp relent, and,
in fact, I should consider it rather frivolous if you
did. No. What I have always admired in your
character, Lucy, is a firm, logical consistency; a
clearness of mental vision that leaves no side of
a subject unsearched; and an unwavering con-
AM) OTHER FAECES. 27
stancy of purpose. You may say that these traits
are characteristic of all -women ; but they are p^
eminently characteristic of you, Lucy." Miss
Galbraith looks askance at him, to make out
whether he is in earnest or not; he continues,
•with a perfectly serious air. "And I know now
that if you're offended with me, it's for no trivial
cause." She stirs uncomfortably in her chair.
"What I have done I can't imagine, but it must be
something monstrous, since it has made life with
me appear so impossible that you are ready to fling
away your own happiness — for I know you did
love me, Lucy — and destroy mine. I will begin
with the worst thing I can think of. Was it be-
cause I danced so much with Fanny Watervliet ? "
Miss Galbraith, indignantly: "How can you
insult me by supposing that I could be jealous of
such a perfect little goose as that ? No, Allen !
Whatever I think of you, I still respect you too
much for that."
Mr. Richards: "I'm glad to hear that there are
yet depths to which you think me incapable of
descending, and that Miss Watervliet is one of
them. I will now take a little higher ground.
Perhaps you think I flirted with Mrs. Dawes. I
28 THE SLEEPING-CAB
thought, myself, that the thing might begin to
have that appearance, but I give you my word of
honor that as soon as the idea occurred to me, I
dropped her — rather rudely, too. The trouble
was, don't you know, that I felt so perfectly safe
with a married friend of yours. I couldn't be
hanging about you all the time, and I was afraid I
might vex you if I went with the other girls ; and
I didn't know what to do."
Miss Galbraith: "I think you behaved rathe*
silly, giggling so much with her. But " —
Mr. Richards : " I own it, I know it was silly.
But" —
Miss Galbraith: "It wasn't that; it wasn't
that ! "
Mr. Richards : " Was it my forgetting to bring
you those things from your mother ? "
Miss Galbraith : « No ! "
Mr. Richards : " Was it because I hadn't given
up smoking yet ? "
Miss Galbraith : " You know I never asked you
to give up smoking. It was entirely your own
proposition."
Mr. Richards : " That's true. That's what made
me so easy about it. I knew I could leave it off
AND OTHEB FAUCES. 29
any time. Well, I will not disturb you any longer,
Miss Galbraith." He throws Ms overcoat across
his arm, and takes up his travelling-bag. " I have
failed to guess your fatal — conundrum ; and I
have no longer any excuse for remaining. I am
going into the smoking-car. Shall I send the
porter to you for anything ? "
Miss Galbraith: "No, thanks." She puts up
her handkerchief to her face.
Mr. Richards : " Lucy, do you send me away ? "
Miss Galbraith, behind her handkerchief : " You
were going, yourself."
Mr. Richards, over his shoulder : " Shall I come
back?"
Miss Galbraith : " I have no right to drive you
from the car."
Mr. Richards, coming back, and sitting down in
the chair nearest her: "Lucy, dearest, tell me
what's the matter."
Miss Galbraith: "0 Allen! your not knowing
makes it all the more hopeless and killing. It
shows me that we must part ; that you would go
on, breaking my heart, and grinding me into the
dust as long as we lived." She sobs. " It shows
me that you never understood me, and you never
30 THE SLEEPING-CAK
will. I know you're good and kind and all that,
but that only makes your not understanding me
so much the worse. I do it quite as much for your
sake as my own, Allen."
Mr. Richards: "I'd much rather you wouldn't
put yourself out oh my account."
Miss Galbraith, without regarding him : " If
you could mortify me before a whole roomful of
people, as you did last night, what could I expect
after marriage but continual insult ? "
Mr. Richards, in amazement : " How did I
mortify you ? I thought that I treated you with
all the tenderness and affection that a decent re-
gard for the feelings of others would allow. I was
ashamed to find I couldn't keep away from you."
Miss Galbraith : " Oh, you were attentive enough,
Allen; nobody denies that. Attentive enough
in non-essentials. Oh, yes ! "
Mr. Richards : " Well, what vital matters did I
fail in ? I'm sure I can't remember."
Miss Galbraith : " I dare say ! I dare say they
won't appear vital to you, Allen. Nothing does.
And if I had told you, I should have been met
with ridicule, I suppose. But I knew better than
to tell ; I respected myself too much."
AND OTHER FAROES. 31
Mr. Richards : " But now you mustn't respect
yourself quite so much, dearest. And I promise
you I won't laugh at the most serious thing. I'm
in no humor for it. If it were a matter of life
and death, even, I can assure you that it wouldn't
bring a smile to my countenance. No, indeed !
If you expect me to laugh, now, you must say
something particularly funny."
Miss Galbraith : " I was not going to say any-
thing funny, as you call it, and I will say nothing
at all, if you talk in that way."
Mr. Richards : " Well, I won't, then. But do
you know what I suspect, Lucy ? I wouldn't men-
tion it to everybody, but I will to you — in strict
confidence : I suspect that you're rather ashamed
of your grievance, if you have any. I suspect it's
nothing at all."
Miss Galbraith, very sternly at first, with a
rising hysterical inflection : " Nothing, Allen ! Do
you call it nothing, to have Mrs. Dawes come out
with all that about your accident on your way up
the river, and ask me if it didn't frighten me
terribly to hear of it, even after it was all over ;
and I had to say you hadn't told me a word of it ?
' Why, Lucy ! ' " — angrily mimicking Mrs. Dawes,
32 THE SLEEPING-CAB
— " ' you must teach him better than that. I make
Mr. Dawes tell me everything.' Little simpleton !
And then to have them all laugh — Oh, dear, it's
too much ! "
Mr. Richards : " "Why, my dear Lucy " —
Miss Galbraith, interrupting him: "I saw just
how it was going to be, and I'm thankful, thankful
that it happened. I saw that you didn't care
enough for me to take me into your whole life ;
that you despised and distrusted me, and that it
would get worse and worse to the end of our days ;
that we should grow farther and farther apart,
and I should be left moping at home, while you
ran about making confidantes of other women
whom you considered worthy of your confidence.
It all flashed upon me in an instant; and I
resolved to break with you, then and there ; and
I did, just as soon as ever I could go to my room
for your things, and I'm glad, — yes, — Oh, hu, hu,
hu, hu, hu ! — so glad I did it ! "
Mr. Richards, grimly: "Your joy is obvious.
May I ask" —
Miss Galbraith : " Oh, it wasn't the first proof
you had given me how little you really cared for
me, but I was determined it should be the last. I
AND OTHER FARCES. 33
dare say you've forgotten them ! I dare say you
don't remember telling Mamie Morris that you
didn't like embroidered cigar-cases, when you'd just
told me that you did, and let me be such a fool as
to commence one for you; but I'm thankful to
say that went into the fire, — oh, yes, instantly !
And I dare say you've forgotten that you didn't
tell me your brother's engagement was to be kept,
and let me come out with it that night at the
Budges', and then looked perfectly aghast, so that
everybody thought I had been blabbing ! Time
and again, Allen, you have made me suffer agonies,
yes, agonies ; but your power to do so is at an
end. I am free and happy at last." She weeps
bitterly.
Mr. Richards, quietly: "Yes, I had forgotten
those crimes, and I suppose many similar atrocities.
I own it, I am forgetful and careless. I was wrong
about those things. I ought to have told you why
I said that to Miss Morris : I was afraid she was
going to work me one. As to that accident I told
Mrs. Dawes of, it wasn't worth mentioning. Our
boat simply walked over a sloop in the night, and
nobody was hurt. I shouldn't have thought twice
about it, if she hadn't happened to brag of their
34 THE SLEEPING-CAB
passing close to an iceberg on their -way home
from Europe; then I trotted out my pretty-near
disaster as a match for hers, — confound her ! I
wish the iceberg had sunk them ! Only it wouldn't
have sunk her, — she's so light ; she'd have gone
bobbing about all over the Atlantic Ocean, like a
cork; she's got a perfect life-preserver in that
mind of hers." Miss Galbraith gives a little
laugh, and then a little moan. "But since you are
happy, I will not repine, Miss Galbraith. I don't
pretend to be very happy myself, but then, I don't
deserve it. Since you are ready to let an abso-
lutely unconscious offence on my part cancel all
the past ; since you let my devoted love weigh as
nothing against the momentary pique that a
malicious little rattle-pate — she was vexed at my
leaving her — could make you feel, and choose to
gratify a wicked resentment at the cost of any
suffering to me, why, /can be glad and happy too."
With rising anger, "Yes, Miss Galbraith. All is
over between us. Tou can go ! I renounce you ! "
Miss Galbraith, springing fiercely to her feet:
" Go, indeed ! Eenounce me ! Be so good as to
remember that you haven't got me to renounce ! "
Mr. Richard's: "Well, it's all the same thing.
AND OTHER FAECES. 35
I'd renounce you if I had. Good-evening, Miss
Galbraith. I will send back your presents as soon
as I get to town ; it won't be necessary to acknowl-
edge them. I hope we may never meet again."
He goes out of the door towards the front of the
car, but returns directly, and glances uneasily at
Miss Galbraith, who remains with her handker-
chief pressed to her eyes. "Ah — a — that is —
I shall be obliged to intrude upon you again. The
fact is " —
Miss Galbraith, anxiously : " Why, the cars have
stopped ! Are we at Schenectady ? "
Mr. Richards : " Well, no ; not exactly ; not
exactly at Schenectady" —
Miss Galbraith : " Then what station is this ?
Have they carried me by?" Observing his em-
barrassment, "Allen, what is the matter? What
has happened ? Tell me instantly ! Are we off
the track ? Have we run into another train ?
Have we broken through a bridge ? Shall we be
burnt alive ? Tell me, Allen, tell me, — I can bear
it ! — are we telescoped ? " She wrings her hands
in terror.
Mr. Richards, unsympathetically : "Nothing of
the kind has happened. This car has simply come
36 THE SLEEPING-CAB
uncoupled, and the rest of the train has gone on
ahead, and left us standing on the track, nowhere
in particular." He leans back in his chair, and
wheels it round from her.
Miss Galbraith, mortified, yet anxious : " Well ? "
Mr. Richards: "Well, until they miss us, and
run back to pick us up, I shall be obliged to ask
your indulgence. I will try not to disturb you;
I would go out and stand on the platform, but
it's raining."
Miss Galbraith, listening to the rain-fall on
the roof: "Why, so it is!" Timidly, "Did you
notice when the car stopped ? "
Mr. Richards: ""No." He rises and goes out
at the rear door, comes back, and sits down
again.
Miss Galbraith, rises, and goes to the large
mirror to wipe away her tears. She glances at
Mr. Richards, who does not move. She sits down
in a seat nearer him than the chair she has left.
After some faint murmurs and hesitations, she
asks, " Will you please tell me why you went out
just now ? "
Mr. Richards, with indifference : " Yes. I went
to see if the rear signal was out."
AST) OTHER EABCES. 87
Miss Galbraith, after another hesitation:
« Why ? "
Mr. Richards : " Because, if it wasn't out, some
train might run into us from that direction."
Miss Galbraith, tremulously : " Oh ! And was it ?"
Mr. Richards, dryly : " Yes."
Miss Galbraith returns to her former place,
with a wounded air, and for a moment neither
speaks. Finally she asks very meekly, "And
there's no danger from the front?"
Mr. Richards, coldly : " No."
Miss Galbraith, after some little noises and
movements meant to catch Mr. Richards's atten-
tion: "Of course, I never meant to imply that
you were intentionally careless or forgetful."
Mr. Richards, still very coldly : " Thank you."
Miss Galbraith: "I always did justice to your
good-heartedness, Allen; you're perfectly lovely
that way ; and I know that you would be sorry if
you knew you had wounded my feelings, however
accidentally." She droops her head so as to catch
a sidelong glimpse of his face, and sighs, while
she nervously pinches the top of her parasol,
resting the point on the floor. Mr. Richards
makes no answer. "That about the cigar-case
38 THE SLEEPING-CAB
might have been: a mistake; I saw that myself,
and, as you explain it, why, it was certainly very
kind and very creditable to — to your thoughtful-
ness. It was thoughtful ! "
Mr. Richards: "I am grateful for your good
opinion."
Miss Galbraith : " But do you think it was ex-
actly — it was quite — nice, not to tell me that
your brother's engagement was to be kept, when
you know, Allen, I can't bear to blunder in such
things ? " Tenderly, "Do you ? You can't say
it was ? "
Mr. Richards : " I never said it was."
Miss Galbraith, plaintively : " No, Allen. That's
what I always admired in your character. You
always owned up. Don't you think it's easier for
men to own up than it is for women ? "
Mr. Richards: "I don't know. I never knew
any woman to do it."
Miss Galbraith : " Oh, yes, Allen ! You know I
often own up."
Mr. Richards : "No, I don't."
Miss Galbraith : " Oh, how can you bear to say
so? When I'm rash, or anything of that kind,
you know I acknowledge it."
AND OTHER FARCES. 30
Mr. Richards : " Do you acknowledge it now ? "
Miss Galbraith: "Why, how can I, when I
haven't been rash? What have I been rash
about ? "
Mr. Richards: "About the cigar-case, for ex-
ample."
Miss Galbraith: "Oh! that! That was a great
while ago ! I thought you meant something quite
recent." A sound as of the approaching train is
heard in the distance. She gives a start, and
then leaves her chair again for one a little nearer
his. "I thought perhaps you meant about — last
night."
Mr. Richards: "Well."
Miss GaUtraith, very judicially: "I don't think
it was rash, exactly. No, not rash. It might not
have been very kind not to — to — trust you more,
when I knew that you didn't mean anything;
but — No, I took the only course I could. No-
body could have done differently under the circum-
stances. But if I caused you any pain, I 'm very
sorry ; oh, yes, very sorry indeed. But I was not
precipitate, and I know I did right. At least I
tried to act for the best. Don't you believe I
did?"
40 THE SIiEEPING-CAB
Mr. Richards: "Why, if you have no doubt
upon the subject, my opinion is of no conse-
quence."
Miss Galbraith : " Yes. But what do you think?
If you think differently, and can make me see it
differently, oughtn't you to do so?"
Mr, Richards : " I don't see why. As you say,
all is over between us."
Miss Galbraith: "Yes." After a pause, "I
should suppose you would care enough for your-
self to wish me to look at the matter from the
right point of view."
Mr. Richards : " I don't."
Miss Galbraith, becoming more and more un-
easy as the noise of the approaching train grows
louder : " I think you have been very quick with
me at times, quite as quick as I could have been
with you last night." The noise is more distinctly
heard. "I'm sure that if I could once see it as
~ou do, mo one would be more willing to do
anything in their power to atone for their rash-
ness. Of course I know that everything is
over."
Mr. Richards : " As to that, I have your word ;
and, in view of the fact, perhaps this analysis of
AND OTHER FARCES. 41
motive, of character, however interesting on gen-
eral grounds, is a little" —
Miss Galbraith, with sudden violence : " Say it,
and take your revenge! I have put myself at
your feet, and you do right to trample on me!
Oh, this is what women may expect when they
trust to men's generosity ! Well, it is over now,
and I'm thankful, thankful! Cruel, suspicious,
vindictive, you're all alike, and I'm glad that I'm
no longer subject to your heartless caprices. And
I don't care what happens after this, I shall
always — Oh ! You're sure it's from the front,
Allen ? Are you sure the rear signal is out ? "
Mr. Richards, relenting: "Yes, but if it will
ease your mind, I'll go and look again." He rises,
and starts towards the rear door.
Miss Galbraith, quickly: "Oh, no! Don't go!
I can't bear to be left alone ! " The sound of the
approaching train continually increases in volume.
" Oh, isn't it coming very, very, very fast ? "
Mr. Richards : " No, no ! Don't be frightened."
Miss Galbraith, running towards the rear door.
" Oh, I must get out ! It will kill me, I know it
will. Come with me ! Do, do ! " He runs after
her, and her voice is heard at the rear of the car.
42 THE SLEEPING-CAE
"Oh, the outside door is locked, and we are
trapped, trapped, trapped ! Oh, quick ! Let's try
the door at the other end." They re-enter the
parlor, and the roar of the train announces that
it is upon them. "No, no ! It's too late, it's too
late ! I'm a wicked, wicked girl, and this is all
to punish me ! Oh, it's coming, it's coming at full
speed ! " He remains bewildered, confronting her.
She utters a wild cry, and as the train strikes the
car with a violent concussion, she flings herself
into his arms. " There, there I Forgive me,
Allen ! Let us die together, my own, own love ! "
She hangs fainting on his breast. Voices are
heard without, and after a little delay The Porter
comes in with a lantern.
Porter : " Eather more of a jah than we meant
to give you, sah ! We had to run down pretty
quick after we missed you, and the rain made the
track a little slippery. Lady much frightened ? "
Miss Galbraith, disengaging herself: "Oh, not
at all ! Not in the least. We thought it was a
train coming from behind, and going to run into
us, and so — we — I " —
Porter-: "Not quite so bad as that. We'll be
into Schenectady in a few minutes, miss. I'll
AND OTHER FARCES. 43
come for your things." He goes out at the other
door.
Miss Galbraith, in a fearful whisper: "Allen!
What will he ever think of us ? I'm sure he saw
us!"
Mr. Richards : " I don't know what he'll think
now. He did think you were frightened ; but you
told him you were not. However, it isn't im-
portant what he thinks. Probably he thinks I'm
your long-lost brother. It had a kind of family
look."
Miss Galbraith : " Eidiculous ! "
Mr. Richards: "Why, he'd never suppose that
I was a jilted lover of yours ! "
Miss Galbraith, ruefully: "No."
Mr. Richards: "Come, Lucy," — taking her
hand, — "you wished to die with me, a moment
ago. Don't you think you can make one more
effort to live with me ? I won't, take advantage
of words spoken in mortal peril, but I suppose
you were in earnest when you called me your own
— own" — Her head droops; he folds her in
his arms a moment, then she starts away from
him, as if something had suddenly occurred to
her.
44 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Miss Galbraith : "Allen, where axe you going ? "
Mr. Richards: "Going? Upon my soul, I
haven't the least idea."
Miss Galbraith : "Where were you going ? "
Mr. Richards : " Oh, I was going to Albany."
Miss Galbraith: "Well, don't! Aunt Mary is
expecting me here at Schenectady, — I telegraphed
her, — and I want you to stop here, too, and we'll
refer the whole matter to her. She's such a wise
old head. I'm not sure " —
Mr. Richards : " What ? "
Miss Galbraith, demurely : " That I'm good
enough for you."
Mr. Richards, starting, in burlesque of her move-
ment, as if a thought had struck him: "Lucy!
how came you on this train when you left
Syracuse on the morning express ? "
Miss Galbraith, faintly : " I waited over a train
at Utica." She sinks into a chair, and averts her
face.
Mr. Richards : " May I ask why ? "
Miss Galbraith, more faintly still: "I don't
like to tell. I" —
Mr. Richards, coming and standing in front of
her, with his hands in his pockets: "Look me
&m> OTHER FAROES. 45
in the eye, Lucy ! " She drops her veil over her
face, and looks np at him. "Did you — did you
expect to find me on this train ? "
Miss Galbraith: "I was afraid it never would
get along, — it was so late!"
Mr. Biehards: "Don't — tergiversate."
Miss Galbraith: "Don't what?"
Mr. Biehards: "Fib."
Miss Galbraith : "Not for worlds !"
Mr. Biehards: "How did you know I was in
this car?"
Miss Galbraith : " Must I ? I thought I saw
you through the window; and then I made sure
it was you when I went to pin my veil on, — I
saw you in the mirror."
Mr. Biehards, after a little silence: "Miss Gal-
braith, do you want to know what you are ? "
Miss Galbraith, softly : " Yes, Allen."
Mr. Biehards : " You're a humbug ! "
Miss Galbraith, springing from her seat, and
confronting him. "So are you! You pretended
to be asleep!"
Mr. Biehards: "I — I — I was taken by sur-
prise. I had to take time to think."
Miss Galbraith : " So did I."
46 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Mr. Richards: "And you thought it would bo
a good plan to get your polonaise caught in the
window ? "
Miss Galbraith, hiding her face on his shoulder j
"No, no, Allen! That I never will admit. No
woman would!"
Mr. Richards : " Oh, I dare say ! " After a
pause : " Well, I am a poor, weak, helpless man,
with no one to advise me or counsel me, and
I have been cruelly deceived. How could you,
Lucy, how could you? I can never get over
this." He drops his head upon her shoulder.
Miss Galbraith, starting away again, and look-
ing about the car: "Allen, I have an idea! Do
you suppose Mr. Pullman could be induced to sell
this car ? "
Mr. Richards : " Why ? "
Miss Galbraith: "Why, because I think it's
perfectly lovely, and I should like to live in it
always. It could be fitted up for a sort of
summer-house, don't you know, and we could have
it in the garden, and you could smoke in it."
Mr. Richards: "Admirable! It would look
just like a travelling photographic saloon. 2To,
Lucy, we won't buy it; we will simply keep it
AND OTHER FAECES. 47
as a precious souvenir, a sacred memory, a beauti-
ful dream, — and let it go on fulfilling its destiny-
all the same."
Porter, entering, and gathering up Miss GaU
braith's things : " Be at Schenectady in half a
minute, miss. Won't have much time."
Miss Galbraith, rising, and adjusting her dress,
and then looking about the car, while she passes
her hand through her lover's arm : " Oh, I do
hate to leave it. Farewell, you dear, kind, good,
lovely car! May you never have another acci-
dent ! " She kisses her hand to the car, upon
which they both look back as they slowly leave
it.
Mr. Richards, kissing his hand in the like man-
ner: "Good-by, sweet chariot! May you never
carry any but bridal couples ! "
Miss Galbraith : " Or engaged ones ! "
Mr. Richards : " Or husbands going home to their
wives ! "
Miss Galbraith: "Or wives hastening to their
husbands."
Mr. Richards: "Or young ladies who have
waited one train over, so as to be with the young
men they hate."
48 THE SLEEPING-CAB.
Miss Galbraith : " Or young men who are so
indifferent that they pretend to be asleep when
the young ladies come in!" They pause at the
door and look back again. "'And must I leave
thee, Paradise ? ' " They both kiss their hands to
the car again, and, their faces being very close
together, they impulsively kiss each other. Then
Miss Galbraith throws back her head, and solemnly
confronts him. " Only think, Allen ! If this car
hadn't broken its engagement, we might never
have mended ours."
THE SLEEPING-CAR.
FARCE.
THE SLEEPING-CAR.
I.
Scene: One side of a sleeping-car on the Boston
and Albany Eoad. The curtains are drawn
before most of the berths : from the hooks and
rods hang hats, bonnets, bags, bandboxes, um-
brellas, and other travelling-gear; on the floor
are boots of both sexes, set out for The Porter
to black. The Porter is making up the beds in
the upper and lower berths adjoining, the seats
on which a young mother, slender and pretty,
with a baby asleep on the seat beside her, and a
stout old lady, sit confronting each other — Mrs.
Agnes Roberts and her Aunt Mary.
Mrs. Roberts: "Do you always take down your
back hair, aunty ? "
Aunt Mary: "No, never, child; at least not
since I had such a fright about it once, coming on
from New York. It's all well enough to take
51
52 THE SLEEPING-CAB
down your back hair if it is yours ; but if it isn't,
your head's the best place for it. Now, as I buy
mine of Madame Pierrot " —
Mrs. Roberts: "Don't you wish she wouldn't
advertise it as human hair ? It sounds so pokerish
— like human flesh, you know."
Aunt Mary : " Why, she couldn't call it mhuman
hair, my dear."
Mrs. Roberts, thoughtfully : " No — just hair."
Aunt Mary : " Then people might think it was
for mattresses. But, as I was saying, I took it off
that night, and tucked it safely away, as I sup-
posed, in my pocket, and I slept sweetly till about
midnight, when I happened to open my eyes, and
saw something long and black crawl off my bed
and slip under the berth. Such a shriek as I gave,
my dear ! ' A snake ! a snake ! oh, a snake ! '
And everybody began talking at once, and some
of the gentlemen swearing, and the porter came
running with the poker to kill it ; and all the
while it was that ridiculous switch of mine, that
had worked out of my pocket. And glad enough
I was to grab it up before anybody saw it, and say
I must have been dreaming."
Mrs. Roberts : " Why, aunty, how funny ! How
AKD OTHER FAKCES. 53
could you suppose a serpent could get on board a
sleeping-car, of all places in the world ? "
Aunt Mary : " That was the perfect absurdity of
it."
The Porter : " Berths ready now, ladies."
Mrs. Roberts, to The Porter, who walks away to
the end of the car, and sits down near the door :
" Oh, thank you ! — Aunty, do you feel nervous the
least bit.?"
Aunt Mary : " Nervous ? No. Why ? "
Mrs. Roberts : " Well, I don't know. I suppose
I've been worked up a little about meeting Willis,
and wondering how he'll look, and all. We can't
know each other, of course. It doesn't stand to
reason that if he's been out there for twelve years,
ever since I was a child, though we've corresponded
regularly — at least J have — that he could recog-
nize me ; not at the first glance, you know. He'll
have a full beard; and then I've got married, and
here's the baby. Oh, no! he'll never guess who
it is in the world. Photographs really amount to
nothing in such a case. I wish we were at home,
and it was all over. I wish he had written some
particulars, instead of telegraphing from Ogden,
•Be with you on the 7 a.m., Wednesday.' "
54 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Aunt Mary : " Calif ornians always telegraph,
my dear; they never think of writing. It isn't
expensive enough, and it doesn't make your blood
run cold enough, to get a letter, and so they send
you one of those miserable yellow despatches
whenever they can — those printed in a long
string, if possible, so that you'll be sure to die
before you get to the end of it. I suppose your
brother has fallen into all those ways, and says
' reckon ' and ' ornary ' and ' which the same,' just
like one of Mr. Bret Harte's characters."
Mrs. Roberts : "But it isn't exactly our not
knowing each other, aunty, that's worrying me;
that's something that could be got over in time.
What is simply driving me distracted is Willis and
Edward meeting there when I'm away from home.
Oh, how could I be away ! and why couldn't
Willis have given us fair warning ? I would have
hurried from the ends of the earth to meet him.
I don't believe poor Edward ever saw a Califor-
nian ; and he's so quiet and pre-occupied, I'm sure
he'd never get on with Willis. And if Willis is
the least loud, he wouldn't like Edward. Not that
I suppose he is loud ; but I don't believe he knows
anything about literary men. But you can see,
AND OTHER FASCES. 55
aunty, can't you, how very anxious I must be?
Don't you see that I ought to have been there
when Willis and Edward met, so as to — to — well,
to break them to each other, don't you know ? "
Aunt Mary: "Oh, you needn't be troubled
about that, Agnes. I dare say they've got on
perfectly well together. Very likely they're sit-
ting down to the unwholesomest hot supper this
instant that the ingenuity of man could invent."
Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, do you think they are,
aunty? Oh, if I could only believe they were
sitting down to a hot supper together now, I should
be so happy! They'd be sure to get on if they
were. There's nothing like eating to make men
friendly with each other. Don't you know, at
receptions, how they never have anything to say
to each other till the escalloped oysters and the
chicken salad appear; and then how sweet they
are as soon as they've helped the ladies to ice ?
Oh, thank you, thank you, aunty, for thinking of
the hot supper ! It's such a relief to my mind !
You can understand, can't you, aunty dear, how
anxious I must have been to have my only brother
and my only — my husband— get on nicely to-
gether? My life would be a wreck, simply a
56 THE SLEEPING-CAR
wreck, if they didn't. And Willis and I not
having seen each other since I was a child makes
it all the worse. I do hope they're sitting down to
a het supper."
An angry Voice from the next berth but one : " I
wish people in sleeping-cars " — \»rp*^\ ,^gfi -iteJi.
A Voice from the berth beyond that : I' You're
mistaken in your premises, siy This is a waking-
car^Ladies, go on, and oblige an eager listener."
Sensation, and smothered laughter from the other
berths.
Mrs. Roberts, after a space of terrified silence,
in a loud whisper to her Aunt: "What horrid
things !, But now we really must go to bed. It
was too bad to keep talking. I'd no idea my voice
was getting so loud. Which berth will you have,
aunty ? I'd better take the upper one, because " —
Aunt Mary, whispering : " No, no ; I must take
that, so that you can be with the baby below."
Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, how good you are, Aunt
Mary ! It's too bad ; it is really. I can't let
you."
Aunt Mary : " WelL then, you must ; that's all.
You know how that child tosses and kicks about
in the night. You never can tell where his head's
AND OTHBK FAECES. 57
going to be in the morning, but you'll probably
find it at the foot of the bed. I couldn't sleep an
instant, my dear, if I thought that boy was in the
upper berth ; for I'd be sure of his tumbling out
over you. Here, let me lay him down." She lays
the baby in the lower berth. " There ! Now get in,
Agnes — do, and leave me to my struggle with the
attraction of gravitation."
Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, poor aunty, how will you
ever manage it ? I must help you up."
Aunt Mary: "No, my dear; don't be foolish.
But you may go and call the porter, if you like.
I dare say he's used to it."
Mrs. Roberts goes and speaks timidly to The
Porter, who fails at first to understand, then smiles
broadly, accepts a quarter with a duck of his head,
and comes forward to Aunt Mary's side: "Had
he better give you his hand to rest your foot in,
while you spring up as if you were mounting
horseback ? "
Aunt Mary, with disdain : " Spring ! My dear,
I haven't sprung for a quarter of a century. I
shall require every fibre in the man's body. His
hand, indeed ! You get in first, Agnes."
Mrs. Roberts : " I will, aunty dear ; but " —
58 THE SLEEPING-CAK
Aunt Mary, sternly: "Agnes, do as I say.? 1
Mrs. Roberts crouches down on the lower berth.
"I don't choose that any member of my family
shall witness my contortions. Don't you look."
Mrs. Roberts : " No, no, aunty."
Aunt Mary : " Now, porter, are you strong ? "
Porter : " I used to be porter at a Saratoga hotel,
and carried up de ladies' trunks dere."
Aunt Mary: "Then you'll do, I think. Now,
then, your knee; now your back. There! And
very handsomely done; thanks."
Mrs. Roberts : " Are you really in, Aunt Mary ? "
Aunt Mary, dryly : " Yes. Good-night."
Mrs. Roberts : " Good-night, aunty." After a
pause of some minutes. "Aunty ! "
Aunt Mary : " Well, what ? "
Mrs. Roberts: "Do you think it's perfectly
cafe ? " She rises in her berth, and looks up over
the edge of the upper.
Aunt Mary : " I suppose so. It's a well-managed
road. They've got the air-brake, I've heard, and
the Miller platform, and all those horrid things.
What makes you introduce such unpleasant sub-
jects ? "
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, I don't mean accidents. But*
AND OTHER FAECES. 59
you know, when you turn, it does creak so awfully.
I shouldn't mind myself ; but the baby " —
Aunt Mary: "Why, child, do you think I'm
going to break through ? I couldn't. I'm one of
the lightest sleepers in the world."
Mrs. Roberts: "Yes, I know you're a light
sleeper; but — but it doesn't seem quite the same
thing, somehow."
Aunt Mary: "But it is; it's quite the same
thing, and you can be perfectly easy in your mind,
my dear. I should be quite as loath to break
through as you would to have me. Good-night."
Mrs. Roberts: "Yes; good-night. — Aunty!"
Aunt Mary: "Well?"
Mrs. Roberts: "You ought to just see him,
how he's lying. He's a perfect log. Couldn't you
just bend over, and peep down at him a moment ?"
Aunt Mary : " Bend over ! It would be the
death of me. Good-night."
Mrs. Roberts: "Good-night. Did you put the
glass into my bag, or yours ? I feel so very
thirsty, and I want to go and get some water. I'm
sure I don't know why I should be thirsty. Are
you, Aunt Mary ? Ah ! here it is. Don't disturb
yourself, aunty ; I've found it. It was in my bag,
60 THE SLEEPING-CAB
just where I'd put it myself. But all this trouble
about Willis has made me so fidgety that I don't
know where anything is. And now I don't know
how to manage about the baby while I go after the
water. He's sleeping soundly enough now ; but if
he should happen to get into one of his rolling
moods, he might tumble out on to the floor. Never
mind, aunty, I've thought of something. I'll just
barricade him with these bags and shawls. Now,
old fellow, roll as much as you like. If you should
happen to hear him stir, aunty, won't you —
Aunty ! Oh, dear ! she's asleep already ; and what
shall I do ? " While Mrs. Roberts continues talk-
ing, various notes of protest, profane and other-
wise, make themselves heard from different berths.
"I know. I'll make a bold dash for the water,
and be back in an instant, baby. Now, don't you
move, you little rogue." She runs to the water-
tank at the end of the car, and then back to her
berth. "Now, baby, here's mamma again. Are
you all right, mamma's own ? " A shaggy head
and bearded face are thrust from the curtains of
the next berth.
The Stranger: "Look here, ma'am. I don't
want to be disagreeable about this thing, and I
AND OTHER FAECES. 61
hope you won't take any offence ; but the fact is,
I'm half dead for want of sleep, and if you'll only
keep quiet now a little while, I'll promise not to
speak above my breath if ever I find you on a
sleeping-car after you've come straight through
from San Francisco, day and night, and not been
able to get more than about a quarter of your
usual allowance of rest — I will indeed."
Mrs. Roberts: "I'm very sorry that I've dis-
turbed you, and I'll try to be more quiet. I
didn't suppose I was speaking so loud; but the
cars keep up such a rattling that you never can
tell how loud you are speaking. Did I under-
stand you to say that you were from California ? "
The Californian : " Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Roberts : " San Francisco ? "
The Californian : " Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Roberts: "Thanks. It's a terribly long
journey, isn't it? I know quite how to feel for
you. I've a brother myself coming on. In fact,
we expected him before this." She scans his face
as sharply as the lamplight will allow, and con-
tinues, after a brief hesitation. " It's always such
a silly question to ask a person, and I suppose
Ban Francisco is a large place, with a great many
62 THE SLEEPING-CAB
people always coming and going, so that it would
be only one chance in a thousand if you did."
The Californian, patiently: "Did what,
ma'am
?»
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, I was just wondering if it
was possible — but of course, it isn't, and it's very
flat to ask — that you'd ever happened to meet
my brother there. His name is Willis Campbell."
The Californian, with more interest: "Camp-
bell ? Campbell ? Yes, I know a man of that
name. But I disremember his first name. Little
low fellow — pretty chunky ? "
Mrs. Roberts: "I don't know. Do you mean
short and stout?"
The Californian : " Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Roberts: "I'm sure I can't tell. It's a
great many years since he went out there, and
I've never seen him iu all that time. I thought
if you did happen to know him — He's a
lawyer."
The Californian: "It's quite likely I know
him; and in the morning, ma'am" —
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, excuse me. I'm very sorry
to have kept you so long awake with my silly
questions."
AND OTHER FAUCES. 63
The Man in the Upper Berth: "Don't apologize,
madam. I'm not a Californian myself, but I'm an
orphan, and away from home, and I thank you, on
behalf of all our fellow-passengers, for the mental
refreshment that your conversation has afforded
us. I could lie here, and listen to it all night;
but there are invalids in some of these berths,
and perhaps on their account it will be as well to
defer everything till the morning, as our friend
suggests. Allow me to wish you pleasant dreams,
madam."
The Californian, while Mrs. Roberts shrinks
back under the curtain of her berth in dismay, and
stammers some inaudible excuse, slowly emerges
full length from his berth : " Don't you mind me,
ma'am; I've got everything but my boots and
coat on. Now, then," standing beside the berth,
and looking in upon the man in the upper tier.
"You! Do you know that this is a lady you're
talking to?"
The Upper Berth: "By your voice and your
shaggy personal appearance I shouldn't have taken
you for a lady — no, sir. But the light is very
imperfect ; you may be a bearded lady."
The Californian: "You never mind about my
64 THE SLEEPING-CAB
looks. The question is, Do you want your head
rapped up against the side of this car ? "
/The Upper Berth : " With all the frankness of
your own Pacific Slope, no."
Mrs. Roberts, hastily re-appearing : " Oh, no,
no, don't hurt him! He's not to blame. I was
wrong to keep on talking. Oh, please don't hurt
him ! "
The Californian to The Upper Berth: "You
hear ? Well, now, don't you speak another word
to that lady to-night. Just go on, ma'am, and free
your mind on any little matter you like. I don't
want any sleep. How long has your brother been
in California ? "
Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, don't let's talk about it
now ; I don't want to talk about it. I thought — I
thought — Good-night. Oh, dear ! I didn't sup-
pose I was making so much trouble. I didn't
mean to disturb anybody. I " — Mrs. Roberts
gives way to the excess of her confusion and mor-
tification in a little sob, and then hides her grief
behind the curtains of her berth. The Califor-
nian slowly emerges again from his couch, and
stands beside it, looking in upon the man in the
berth above.
AND OTHER FAECES. 65
The Califomian: "For half a cent I would rap
your head up against that wall. Making the lady
cry, and getting me so mad I can't sleep ! Now
see heie, you just apologize. You beg that lady's
pardon, or I'll have you out of there before
you know yourself." Cries of "Good!" "That's
right ! " and " Make him show himself ! " hail
Mrs. Roberts's champion, and heads, more or less
dishevelled, are thrust from every berth. Mrs.
Roberts remains invisible and silent, and the loud
and somewhat complicated respiration of her Aunt
makes itself heard in the general hush of expect-
ancy. A remark to the effect that " The old lady
seems to enjoy her rest" achieves a facile ap-
plause. The Califomian again addresses the cul-
prit. " Come, now, what do you say ? I'll give
you just one-half a minute."
Mrs. Roberts from her shelter: "Oh, please,
please don't make him say anything ! It was very
trying in me to keep him awake, and I know he
didn't mean any offence. Oh, do let him be ! "
The Califomian: "You hear that? You stay
quiet the rest of the time ; and if that lady chooses
to keep us all awake the whole night, don't you
say a word, or I'll settle with you in the morning."
66 THE SLEEPING-CAR
Loud and continued applause, amidst which The
Californian turns from the man in the berth
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. 1
A Voice: "Oh, /lon't just bow! Speak!" A
fresh burst of laughter greets this sally. The
Californian erects himself again with an air of
bated 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.
AND OTHER FARCES. 67
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 in-
credulity, 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" — ■
68 THE SLEEPENG-CAK
struggling to give the situation dignity, but fail-
ing, and throwing himself, with self-convicted silli-
ness, upon The Toner'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 : " Dey's so many ladies on board /
couldn't find her."
Mr. Roberts : " Oh, no, no ! of course not. I
didn't expect that."
The Porter : " Don't like to go routing 'em all
up, you know. I wouldn't be allowed to."
Mr. Roberts: "I don't ask it; that would be
preposterous."
AND OTHER FAUCES. 69
The Porter: "What sort of looking lady was
she ? "
Mr. Roberts : " Well, I don't know, really. Not
very tall, rather slight, blue eyes. I — I don't
know what you'd call her nose. And — stop ! Oh,
yes, she had a child with her, a little boy. Yes ! "
The Porter, thoughtfully looking down the aisle :
"Dey was three ladies had children. I didn't
notice whether dey was boys or girls, or what dey
was. Didn't have anybody with her ? "
Mr. Roberts : " No, no. Only the child."
The Porter : " Well, I don't know what you are
going to do, sah. It won't be a great while now
till morning, you know. Here conies the conduct-
or. Maybe he'll know what to do." Mr. Roberts
makes some futile, inarticulate attempts to pre-
vent The Porter from laying the case before The
Conductor, and then stands guiltily smiling, over-
whelmed with the hopeless absurdity of his posi-
tion.
The Conductor, entering the car, and stopping
before The Porter, and looking at Mr. Roberts.
u Gentleman want a berth ? "
The Porter, grinning: "Well, no, sah. Helj
lookin' for his wife."
70 THE SLEEPING-CAB
The Conductor, with suspicion : " Is she aboard
this car ? "
Mr. Roberts, striving to propitiate The Conductor
by a dastardly amiability : " Oh, yes, yes. There's
no mistake about the car — the Governor Marcy.
She telegraphed the name just before you left
Albany, so that I could find her at Boston in the
morning. Ah ! "
The Conductor: "At Boston?" Sternly: "Then
what are you trying to find her at Worcester in the
middle of the night for ? "
Mr. Roberts : " Why — I — that is " —
The Porter, taking compassion on Mr. Roberts's
inability to continue : " Says he wanted to sur-
prise her."
Mr. Roberts: "Ha — yes, exactly. A little
caprice, you know."
The Conductor: "Well, that may all be so."
Mr. Roberts continues to smile in agonized helpless-
ness against The Conductor's injurious tone, which
becomes more and more offensively patronizing.
" But I can't do anything for you. Here are all
these people asleep in their berths, and I can't go
round waking them up because you want to sur-
prise your wife."
AND OTHER FARCES. 71
Mr. Roberts : " No, no ; of course not. I never
thought" —
The Conductor: "My advice to you is to have
a berth made up, and go to bed till we get to
Boston, and surprise your wife by telling her what
you tried to do."
Mr. Roberts, unable to resent the patronage
of this suggestion: "Well, I don't know but I
will."
The Conductor, going out: "The porter will
make up the berth for you."
Mr. Roberts to The Porter, who is about to pull
down the upper berth over a vacant seat : " 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.
72 THE SLEBPING-CAE
The Porter : " Dat's a gen'leman in dat berth, I
think, sah."
Mr. Roberts, astutely : " There's a bonnet hang-
ing 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, in-
deed."
Mr. Roberts, reaching his left hand towards The
Porter's, and pressing a half-dollar into his in-
stantly 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
AND OTHER FAUCES. 73
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 farther and farther 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 1
got your wife ? " _j
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 yonr
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—
74 THE SLEEPING-CAB
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 Call-
fornian mechanically loses his grip, and they fly
into each other's embrace. " Where did you come
from ? "
y / 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 empress-messenger to bring his
safe." The passengers emerge from their berths
in various deshabUte and bewilderment.
The Conductor to Mr. Roberts : " Have you
been making all this row, waking up my passen-
gers ? "
AND OTHER FAECES. 75
The Califomian : " No, sir, he hasn't. I've
been making this row. This gentleman was peace-
ably looking for his wife, and I misunderstood
him. You want to say anything to me ? "
The Conductor, silently taking The Califomian' s
measure with his eye, as he stands six feet in his
stoekings : " 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 dis-
appear one by one, leaving the Robertses and The
Califomian alone.
The Califomian, 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 explana-
tion." He takes out his card, and gives it to
The Califomian, 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 Calif or-
nian parts the curtains of his berth to re-enter
76 THE SLEEPING-CAB
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 per-
fectly 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 de-
AND OTHER FARCES. 7?
clare, 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 Califor-
nia*,. "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 ? "
78 THE SLEEPING-CAB.
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 ex-
posed. " Oh, baby, baby, baby ! I thought I had
lost you. Urn ! 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:
AND OTHER FARCES. 79
" There ! Did you ever see such a sleeper,
Edward ? " In her ecstasy she abandons all
control of her voice, and joyfully exclaims : " He
nas 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 per-
fectly 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
80 THE SLEEPING-CAB
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 Calif ornian."
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,
AND OTHER FAKCES. 81
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 Californium's berth,
and they each draw a curtain. " Willis ! "
The Califomian, 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 Califomian : " 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 — you
husband, or your baby, or your husband's wife,
or" —
Mrs. Roberts : " How funny you are ! Tou 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 Califomian, 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
82 THE SLEEPING-CAR
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 think-
ing about it, and how kind you had been to me,
and how sweet you had been under all my — inter-
ruptions, 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. Aud 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
AND OTHER FAECES. 83
after we reach Boston, we shall be so glad to do
it!"
They bow themselves away, and return to their
seat, while The Calif ornian re-enters his berth.
84 THE SLEEPING-CAR
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 half 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
AND OTHER FARCES. 85
be very strange if there were two people from
San Francisco of exactly the same name. J will
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 any-
thing 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 Fram-
ingham 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
ean't, and I won't, and that's all about it." She
leans forward, and addresses the stranger with
86 THE SLEEPING-CAR
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 Camp-
bell 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 Eoberts?"
Mrs. Roberts : " Every one."
Campbell : " Then you're " —
Mrs. Roberts, ecstatically : "Agnes."
Campbell : "And he's " —
Mrs. Roberts : " Mr. Eoberts ! "
Campbell : " And the baby's " —
AM> OTHER FAECES. 87
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: "Oh, 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 be-
fore 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 good-
ness ! " 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 stir-
ring up the whole blessed night. IJirst I took
88 THE SLEEPING-OAR
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 cur-
tains open : " You, old Tom Goodall I "
AND OTHER FAECES. 89
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,
90 THE SLEEPING-CAB,
stranger. I seem to be in the hands of Providence
to-night, 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'J;
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 ?
AND OTHER FARCES. 91
If s so strange that you and Willis never even
met. Don't you think you have some acquaint-
ances 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 peo-
ple 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 sur-
prised 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 championship :
" Oh, he must be some connection." She glances
through the window. "I do believe that was
Newton, or Mewtonville, or West Newton, or
92 THE SLEEPING-CAR
Newton Centre. I must run and wake up
baby, and get him dressed. I sha'n'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 : " Eight 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
AND OTHER FARCES. 93
eould make sure of any berth that ain't the one,
I'd begin on that."
Mrs. Roberts: "I can't even be sure of the
wrong one. No, no ; you mustn't " — The Calir-
fornian 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
Calif ornians that one reads of — so chivalrous and
so humorous ! "
Aunt Mary, thrusting her head from the curtains
of the berth before which The Califomian is
standing: "Go along with you! What do you
want ? "
The Califomian : " Aunt Mary."
. Aunt Mary : " Go away. Aunt Mary, indeed ! "
Mrs. Roberts, turning 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
94 THE SLEEPING-CAB
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 Califomian.
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, a friend of ours from Cali-
fornia, 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 Califomian : " Yes, ma'am."
Aunt Mary : " Abram ? "
The Califomian: "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 : " Long-lost
stepson. Found ! found at last ! "
The Califomian 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?"
AND OTHER FAECES. 95
The Californian, eagerly : " Both of 'em, ma'am
— both of 'em."
The Voice : " 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
96 . THE SLEEPING-CAB
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 dig-
nity 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."
AuntMary: "Nonsense, Willis. Send the porter."
Campbell, turning round and confronting The
Porter: "He was here upon instinct. Shall he
fetch a step-ladder ? "
AND OTHER FARCES. 97
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."
THE REGISTER.
FARCE.
THE REGISTER.
ffa*jc*.
I.
Scene : In an upper chamber of a boarding-house
in Melanchthon Place, Boston, a mature, plain
young lady, with every appearance of establish-
ing herself in the room for the first time, moves
about, bestowing little touches of decoration
here and there, and talking with another young
lady, whose voice comes through the open door-
way of an inner room.
Miss Ethel Meed, from within: "What in the
world are you doing, Nettie?"
Miss Henrietta SpauJding : "Oh, sticking up a
household god or two. What are you doing ? "
Miss Reed : " Despairing."
Miss Spaulding : " Still ? "
Miss Reed, tragically : " Still ! How soon did
you expect me to stop ? I am here on the sofa,
where I flung myself two hours ago, and I don't
101
102 THE SLEEPING-CAR
think I shall ever get up. There is no reason whg
I ever should."
Miss Spaulding, suggestively : " Dinner."
Miss Meed: " Oh, dinner ! Dinner, to a broken
heart ! "
Miss Spaulding : " I don't believe your heart is
broken."
Miss Heed : " But I tell you it is ! I ought to
know when my own heart is broken, I should
hope. What makes you think it isn't ? "
Miss Spaulding : " Oh, it's happened so often ! "
Miss Heed : " But this is a real case. You ought
to feel my forehead. It's as hot ! "
Miss Spaulding: "You ought to get up and
help me put this room to rights, and then you
would feel better."
Miss Meed : " No ; I should feel worse. The idea
of household gods makes me sick. Sylvan deities
are what I want ; the great god Pan among the
cat-tails and arrow-heads in the ' ma'sh ' at Ponk-
wasset; the dryads of the birch woods — there are
no oaks ; the nymphs that haunt the heights and
hollows of the dear old mountain ; the " —
Miss Spaulding: "Wha-a-at? I can't hear a
word you say."
AND OTHER FAECES. 103
Miss Reed: "That's because you keep fussing
about so. Why don't you be quiet, if you want
to hear?" She lifts her voice to its highest
pitch, with a pause for distinctness between th«
words: " I'm heart-broken for — Ponkwasset. The
dryads — of the — birch woods. The nymphs^
and the great — god — Pan — in the reeds — by
the river. And all — that — sort of — thing ! "
Miss Spaulding : "You know very well you're
not."
Miss Reed : " I'm not ? What's the reason I'm
not? Then, what am I heart-broken for?"
Miss Spaulding : " You're not heart-broken at
all. You know very well that he'll call before
we've been here twenty-four hours."
Miss Reed: "Who?"
Miss Spaulding : " The great god Pan."
Miss Reed: "Oh, how cruel you are, to mock
me so ! Gome in here, and sympathize a little !
Do, Nettie."
Miss Spaulding: "No; you come out here and
utilize a little. I'm acting for your best good, as
they say at Ponkwasset."
Miss Reed: "When they want to be disagree"
able!"
104 THE SLEEPING-CAR
Miss Spauldinff : " If this room isn't iii order by
the time he calls, you'll be everlastingly disgraced."
Miss Reed: "I'm that now. I can't be more
so — there's that comfort. What make's you think
he'll call?"
Miss Spauldinff: "Because he's a gentleman,
and will want to apologize. He behaved very
rudely to you."
Miss Reed: "No, Nettie; I behaved rudely to
him. Yes ! Besides, if he behaved rudely, he
was no gentleman. It's a contradiction in terms,
don't you see ? But I'll tell you what I'm going
to do if he comes. I'm going to show a proper
spirit for once in my life. I'm going to refuse to
see him. You've got to see him."
Miss Spauldinff : " Nonsense ! "
Miss Reed : " Why nonsense ? Oh, why ? Ex-
pound ! "
Miss Spauldinff: "Because he wasn't rude to
me, and he doesn't want to see me. Because I'm
plain, and you're pretty."
Miss Reed: "I'm not! You know it perfectly
well. I'm hideous."
Miss Spauldinff : " Because I'm poor, and you're
a person of independent property."
AND OTHEB FAECES. 105
Miss Reed : " Dependent property, I should call
it: just enough to be useless on! But that's
insulting to him. How can you say it's because
I have a little money?"
Miss Spaulding : " Well, then, I won't. I take
it back. I'll say it's because you're young, and
I'm old."
Miss Reed : " You're not old. You're as young
as anybody, Nettie Spaulding. And you know I'm
not young; I'm twenty-seven, if I'm a day. I'm
just dropping into the grave. But I can't argue
with you, miles off so, any longer." Miss Reed
appears at the open door, dragging languidly after
her the shawl which she had evidently drawn
round her on the sofa ; her fair hair is a little dis-
ordered, and she presses it into shape with one
hand as she comes forward; a lovely flush vies
with a heavenly pallor in her cheeks; she looks
a little pensive in the arching eyebrows, and a
little humorous about the dimpled mouth. " Now
I can prove that you are entirely wrong. Where
were you ? — This room is rather an improvement
over the one we had last winter. There is more
of a view" — she goes to the window — "of the
houses across the Place ; and I always think the
106 THE SLEEPING-CAB
swell front gives a pretty shape to a room. I'm
sorry they've stopped building them. Tour piano
goes very nicely into that little alcove. Yes,
we're quite palatial. And, on the whole, I'm
glad there's no fireplace. It's a pleasure at times ;
but for the most part it's a vanity and a vexation,
getting dust and ashes over everything. Yes ;
after all, give me the good old-fashioned, clean,
convenient register ! Ugh ! My feet are like ice."
She pulls an easy-chair up to the register in the
corner of the room, and pushes open its valves
with the toe of her slipper. As she settles her-
self luxuriously in the chair, and poises her feet
daintily over the register: "Ah, this is some-
thing like ! Henrietta Spaulding, ma'am ! Did I
ever tell you that you were the best friend I have
in the world?"
Miss Spaulding, who continues her work of
arranging the room : " Often."
Miss Reed : " Did you ever believe it ? "
Miss Spaulding : "Never."
Miss Reed: "Why?"
Miss Spaulding, thoughtfully regarding a vase
which she holds in her hand, after several times
shifting it from a bracket to the corner of her
AND OTHER FAECES. 107
piano and back : " I wish I could tell where you
do look best ! "
Miss Reed, leaning forward wistfully, with her
hands clasped and resting on her knees : " I wish
you would tell me why you don't believe you're
the best friend I have in the world."
Miss Spaulding, finally placing the vase on the
bracket : " Because you've said so too often."
Miss Reed: "Oh, that's no reason! I can
prove to you that you are. Who else but you
would have taken in a homeless and friendless
creature like me, and let her stay bothering round
in demoralizing idleness, while you were seri-
ously teaching the young idea how to drub the
piano ? "
Miss Spaulding: " Anybody who wanted a
room-mate as much as I did, and could have found
one willing to pay more than her share of the
lodging."
Miss Reed, thoughtfully: "Do you think so,
Henrietta ? "
Miss Spaulding : " I know so."
Miss Reed: "And you're not afraid that you
wrong yourself?"
Miss Spaulding : " iNot the least."
108 THE SLEEPOJG-CAE,
Miss Meed: "Well, be it so — as they say in
novels. I will not contradict yon; I will not
say yon are my best friend ; I will merely say
that you are my only friend. Come here, Henri-
etta. Draw up your chair, and put your little
hand in mine."
Miss Spaulding, with severe distrust: "What
do you want, Ethel Reed?"
Miss Meed: "I want — I want — to talk it over
with you."
Miss Spaulding, recoiling : " I knew it ! Well,
now, we've talked it over enough; we've talked
it over till there's nothing left of it."
Miss Meed: "Oh, there's everything left! It
remains in all its original enormity. Perhaps we
shall get some new light upon it." She extends
a pleading hand towards Miss Spaulding. " CoKie,
Henrietta, my only friend, shake ! — as the ' good
Indians ' say. Let your Ethel pour her hackneyed
sorrows into your bosom. Such an uncomfortable
image, it always seems, doesn't it, pouring sorrows
into bosoms ! Come ! "
Miss Spaulding, decidedly : "No, I won't ! And
you needn't try wheedling any longer. I won't
sympathize with you on that basis at all."
AND OTHER FARCES. 109
Miss Reed: "What shall I try, then, if you
won't let me try wheedling ? "
Miss Spaulding, going to the piano and opening
it : " Tiy courage ; try self-respect."
Miss Reed : "Oh, dear ! when I haven't a morsel
of either. Are you going to practise, you cruel
maid?"
Miss Spaulding.- "Of course I am. It's half-
past four, and if I don't do it now I sha'n't be
prepared to-morrow for Miss Robins: she takes
this piece."
Miss Reed: "Well, well, perhaps it's all for
the best. If music be the food of — umph-ump!
— you know what ! — play on." They both laugh,
and Miss Spaulding pushes back a little from the
piano, and wheels toward her friend, letting one
hand rest slightly on the keys.
Miss Spaulding: "Ethel Seed, you're the most
ridiculous girl in the world."
Miss Reed : " Correct ! "
Miss Spaulding : " And I don't believe you ever
were in love, or ever will be."
Miss Reed: "Ah, there you wrong me, Henri-
etta! I have been, and I shall be — lots of
times."
110 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Miss Spaulding: "Well, what do you want to
say now ? You must hurry, for I can't lose any
more time."
Miss Reed : " I will free my mind with neatness
and despatch. I simply wish to go over the whole
affair, from Alfred to Omaha ; and you've got to
let me talk as much slang and nonsense as I
want. And then I'll skip all the details I can.
Will you ? "
Miss Spaulding, with impatient patience : " Oh,
I suppose so ! "
Miss Reed: "That's very sweet of you, though
you don't look it. Now, where was I ? Oh, yes ;
do you think it was forth-putting at all, to ask
him if he would give me the lessons ? "
Miss Spaulding : " It depends upon why you
asked him."
Miss Reed: "I asked him from — from- — Let
me see; I asked him because — from — Yes, I
say it boldly; I asked him from an enthusiasm
for art, and a sincere wish to learn the use of
oil, as he called it. Yes!"
Miss Spaulding : " Are you sure ? "
Miss Reed : " Sure ? Well, we will say that I
am, for the sake of argument. And, having
AND OTHER FAECES. Ill
secured this basis, the question is whether I
wasn't bound to offer him pay at the end, and
whether he wasn't wrong to take my doing so in
dudgeon."
Miss Spaulding: "Yes, I think he was wrong.
And the terms of his refusal were very ungentle-
manly. He ought to apologize most amply and
humbly." At a certain expression in Miss Reed's
face, she adds, with severity: "Unless you're
keeping back the main point. You usually do.
Are you?"
Miss Reed : " No, no. I've told you everything
— everything! "
Miss Spaulding : " Then I say, as I said from
the beginning, that he behaved very badly. It
was very, awkward, and very painful, but you've
really nothing to blame yourself for."
Miss Reed, ruefully : " No-o-o ! "
Miss Spaulding: "What do you mean by that
sort of 'No'?"
Miss Reed: "Nothing."
Miss Spaulding, sternly : "Yes, you do, Ethel."
Miss Reed : " I don't, really. What makes you
think I do ? "
Miss Spaulding : "It sounded very dishonest."
112 THE SLEEPING-CAR
Miss Reed: "Did it? I didn't mean it to."
Her friend breaks down with a laugh, while Miss
Reed preserves a demure countenance.
Miss Spaulding: "What are you keeping
back?"
Miss Reed: "Nothing at all — less than noth-
ing ! I never thought it was worth mentioning."
Miss Spaulding: "Are you telling me the
truth ? "
Miss Reed: "I'm telling you the truth and
something more. You can't ask better than that,
can you ? "
Miss Spaulding, turning to her music again:
"Certainly not."
Miss Reed: in a pathetic wail: "0 Henrietta!
do you abandon me thus ? Well, I will tell you,
heartless girl ! I've only kept it back till now
because it was so extremely mortifying to my
pride as an artist — as a student of oil. Will
you hear me ? "
Miss Spaulding, beginning to play : " No."
Miss Reed, with burlesque wildness: "You
shall!" Miss Spaulding involuntarily desists.
"There was a moment — a fatal moment — when
he said he thought he ought to tell me that if
AND OTHER FAECES. 113
I found oil amusing I could go on ; but that he
didn't believe I should ever learn to use it, and
he couldn't let me take lessons from him with
the expectation that I should. There ! "
Miss Spaulding, with awful reproach: "And
you call that less than nothing? I've almost a
mind never to speak to you again, Ethel. How
could you deceive me so ? "
Miss Reed: "Was it really deceiving? /
shouldn't call it so. And I needed your sympathy
so much, and I knew I shouldn't get it unless you
thought I was altogether in the right."
Miss Spaulding: "You are altogether in. the
wrong ! And it's you that ought to apologize to
him, — on your bended knees. How could you
offer him money after that? I wonder at you,
Ethel!"
Miss Heed : " Why — don't you see, Nettie ? —
I did keep on taking the lessons of him. I did
find oil amusing — or the oilist — and I kept on.
Of course I had to, off there in a farmhouse full
of lady boarders, and he the only gentleman short
of Crawford's. Strike, but hear me, Henrietta
Spaulding ! What was I to do about the half-
dozen lessons I had taken before he told me I
114 THE SLEEPING-CAR
should never learn to use oil ? Was I to offer
to pay him for these, and not for the rest ; or
■was I to treat the whole series as gratuitous ?
I used to lie awake thinking about it. I've got
some little tact, but I couldn't find any way out
of the trouble. It was a box — yes, a box of
the deepest dye ! And the whole affair having
got. to be — something else, don't you know? —
made it all the worse. And if he'd only — only —
But he didn't. Not a syllable, not a breath!
And there I was. I had to offer him the money.
Audit's almost killed me — the way he took my
offering it, and now the way you take it ! And
it's all of a piece." Miss Beed suddenly snatches
her handkerchief from her pocket, and buries her
face in it. — " Oh, dear — oh, dear ! Oh ! — hu, hu,
hu!"
Miss Spaulding, relenting : " It was awkward."
Miss Beed : " Awkward ! You seem to think
that because I carry things off lightly I have no
feeling."
Miss Spaulding : " You know I don't think that,
Ethel."
Miss Beed, pursuing her advantage : " I don't
know it from you, Nettie. I've tried and tried to
AND OTHER FAECES. 115
pass it off as a joke, and to treat it as something 1
funny ; but I can tell you it's no joke at all."
Miss Spaulding, sympathetically : " I see, dear."
Miss Reed : " It's not that I care for him " —
Miss Spaulding: "Why, of course."
Miss Seed: "For I don't in the least. He is
horrid every way : blunt, and rude, and horrid.
I never cared for him. But I care for myself !
He has put me in the position of having done an
unkind thing — an unladylike thing — when I was
only doing what I had to do. Why need he have
taken it the way he did ? Why couldn't he have
said politely that he couldn't accept the money
because he hadn't earned it? Even that would
have been mortifying enough. But he must go
and be so violent, and rush off, and — Oh, I never
could have treated anybody so ! "
Miss Spaulding: "Not unless you were very
fond of them."
Miss Reed: "What?"
Miss Spaulding: "Not unless you were very
fond of them."
Miss Reed, putting away her handkerchief:
" Oh, nonsense, Nettie ! He never cared anything
for me, or he couldn't have acted so. But no
116 THE SLEEPING-CAB
matter for that. He has fixed everything so that
it can never be got straight — never in the world.
It will just have to remain a hideous mass of —
of — / don't know what ; and I have simply got to
go on withering with despair at the 1 point where
I left off. But I don't care ! That's one comfort."
Miss Spaulding : " I don't believe he'll let you
wither long, Ethel."
Miss Reed: "He's let me wither for twenty-
four hours already ! But it's nothing to me, now,
how long he lets me wither. I'm perfectly satis-
fied to have the affair remain as it is. I am in the
right, and if he comes I shall refuse to see him."
Miss Spaulding : " Oh, no, you won't, Ethel ! "
Miss Seed: "Yes, I shall. I shall receive him
very coldly. I won't listen to any excuse from
him."
Miss Spaulding : " Oh, yes, you will, Ethel ! "
Miss Heed: "No, I shall not. If he wishes me
to listen he must begin by humbling himself in
the dust — yes, the dust, Nettie! I won't take
anything short of it. I insist that he shall realize
that I have suffered."
Miss Spaulding: "Perhaps he has suffered
too!"
AND OTHER FAECES. 117
Miss Reed : " Oh, Tie suffered ! "
Miss Spaulding : "You know that he was per-
fectly devoted to you."
Miss Reed : " He never said so."
Miss Spaulding : " Perhaps he didn't dare.'
Miss Reed: "He dared to be very insolent to
me."
Miss Spaulding : " And yon know yon liked him
very much."
Miss Reed: "I won't let you say that, Nettie
Spaulding. I didn't like him. I respected and
admired him; but I didn't like him. He will
never come near me; but if he does he has to
begin by — by — Let me see, what shall I make
him begin by doing ? " She casts up her eyes
for inspiration while she leans forward over the
register. "Yes, I will! He has got to begin by
taking that money ! "
Miss Spaulding : " Ethel, you wouldn't put that
affront upon a sensitive and high-spirited man ! "
Miss Reed: "Wouldn't I? You wait and see,
Miss Spaulding! He shall take the money, and
he shall sign a receipt for it. I'll draw up the
receipt now, so as to have it ready, and I shall
ask him to sign it the very moment he enters this
118 THE SLEEPING-CAB
door — fhe very instant!" She takes a portfolio
from the table near her, without rising, and writes :
" ' Eeceived from Miss Ethel Reed one hundred
and twenty-five dollars, in full, for twenty -five
lessons in oil-painting.' There — when Mr. Oliver
Eansom has signed this little document he may
begin to talk ; not before ! " She leans back in
her chair with an air of pitiless determination.
Miss Spaulding: "But, Ethel, you don't mean
to make him take money for the lessons he
gave you after he told you you couldn't learn
anything ? "
Miss Reed, after a moment's pause : " Yes, I do.
This is to punish him. I don't wish for justice
now; I wish for vengeance! At first I would
have compromised on the six lessons, or on none
at all, if he had behaved nicely ; but after what's
happened I shall insist upon paying him for every
lesson, so as to make him feel that the whole thing,
from first to last, was a purely business transac-
tion on my part. Yes, a purely — business —
TRANSACTION ! "
Miss Spaulding, turning to her music: "Then
I've got nothing more to say to you, Ethel
Reed."
AND OTHER FAECES. 119
Miss Reed: "I don't say but what, after he's
taken the money and signed the receipt, I'll listen
to anything else he's got to say, very willingly."
Miss Spaulding makes no answer, but begins to
play with a scientific absorption, feeling her way
fitfully through the new piece, while Miss Reed,
seated by the register, trifles with the book she
has taken from the table.
120 THE SLEEPING-CAR
IL
The interior of the room of Miss Spaulding and
Miss Reed remains in view, while the scene
discloses, on the other side of the partition wall
in the same house, the bachelor apartment of
Mr. Samuel Grinnidge. Mr. Grinnidge in his
dressing-gown and slippers, with his pipe in
his mouth, has the effect of having just come
in ; his friend Mr. Oliver Hansom stands at the
window, staring out into .the November weather.
Grinnidge : " How long have you been waiting
here ? "
Ransom: "Ten minutes — ten years. How
should I know?"
Grinnidge: "Well, I don't know who else
should. Get back to-day?"
Ransom : " Last night."
Grinnidge : " Well, take off your coat, and pull
up to the register, and warm your poor feet." He
puts his hand out over the register. "Confound
AND OTHER FARCES. 121
it ! somebody's got the register open in the next
room! You see, one pipe comes up from the
furnace and branches' into a V just under the floor,
and professes to heat both rooms. But it don't
There was a fellow in there last winter who used
to get all my heat. Used to go out and leave his
register open, and I'd come in here just before
dinner and find this place as cold as a barn. We
had a running fight of it all winter. The man
who got his register open first in the morning got
all the heat for the day, for it never turned the
other way when it started in one direction. Used
to almost suffocate — warm, muggy days — main-
taining my rights. Some piano-pounder in there
this winter, it seems. Hear ? And she hasn't
lost any time in learning the trick of the register.
What kept you so late in the country ? "
Ransom, after an absent-minded pause: "Grin-
nidge, I wish you would give me some advice."
Ghrinnidge: "You can have all you want of it
at the market price."
Hansom : " I don't mean your legal advice."
Ghrinnidge: "I'm sorry. What have you been
doing ? "
Ransom : " I've been making an ass pf myself,"
122 THE SLEEPING-CAR
Grinnidge : "Wasn't that rather superfluous ?"
Ransom: "If you please, yes. But now, if
you're capable of listening to me without any
further display of your cross-examination wit, I
should like to tell you how it happened."
Grinnidge: "I will do my best to veil my
brilliancy. Go on."
Ransom: "I went up to Ponkwasset early in
September for the foliage."
Grinnidge: "And staid till late in October.
There must have been a reason for that. What
was her name ? Foliage ? "
Ransom, coming up to the corner of the chimney-
piece, near which his friend sits, and talking to
him directly over the register : " I think you'll
have to get along without the name for the pres-
ent. I'll tell you by and by." As Mr. Ransom
pronounces these words, Miss Reed, on her side
of the partition, lifts her head with a startled
air, and, after a moment of vague circumspection,
listens keenly. " But she was beautiful. She was
a blonde, and she had the loveliest eyes — eyes,
you know, that could be funny or tender, just as
she chose — the kind of eyes I always liked."
Miss Reed leads forward over the register. " She
AND OTHER FARCES. 123
had one of those faces that always leave you in
doubt whether they're laughing at you, and so
keep you in wholesome subjection; but you feel
certain that they're good, and that if they did
hurt you by laughing at you, they'd look sorry
for you afterward. When she walked you saw
what an exquisite creature she was. It always
made me mad to think I couldn't paint her walk."
Grinnidge: "I suppose you saw a good deal of
her walk."
Ransom : " Yes ; we were off in the woods and
fields half the time together." He takes a turn
towards the window.
Miss Reed, suddenly shutting the register on her
side: "Oh!"
Miss Spaulding, looking up from her music :
"What is it, Ethel?"
Miss Reed: "Nothing, nothing; I — I — thought
it was getting too warm. Go on, dear ; don't let
me interrupt you." After a moment of heroic
self-denial she softly presses the register open
with her foot
Ransom, coming back to the register : " It all
began in that way. I had the good fortune one
day to rescue her from a — cow."
124 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Miss Reed : " Oh, for shame ! "
Miss Spaulding, desisting from her piano:
" What is the matter ? "
Miss Reed, clapping the register to: "This
ridiculous book ! But don't — don't mind me,
Nettie." Breathlessly: "Go — go — on!" Miss
Spaulding resumes, and again Miss Seed softly
presses the register open.
Ransom, after a pause : " The cow was grazing,
and had no more thought of hooking Miss " —
Miss Reed : " Oh, I didn't suppose he would/ —
Go -on, Nettie, go on ! The hero — such a goose ! "
Ransom : "I drove her away with my camp-
stool, and Miss — the young lady — was as grateful
as if I had rescued her from a menagerie of wild
animals. I walked home with her to the farm-
house, and the trouble began at once." Pantomime
of indignant protest and burlesque menace on the
part of Miss Reed. "There wasn't another well
woman in the house, except her friend Miss Spaul-
ding, who was rather old and rather plain." He
takes another turn to the window.
Miss Reed: "Oh!" She shuts the register, but
instantly opens it again. " Louder, Nettie."
Miss Spaulding, in astonishment : '.' What ? "
AND OTHER FASCES. 125
Miss Seed: "Did I speak? I didn't know it.
I" —
Miss Spaulding, desisting from practice: "What
is that strange, hollow, rumbling, mumbling kind
of noise ? "
Miss Reed, softly closing the register with her
foot : "T don't hear any strange, hollow, rumbling,
mumbling kind of noise. Do you hear it now ? "
Miss Spaulding: "No. It was the Brighton
whistle, probably."
Miss Heed : " Oh, very likely." As Miss Spaul-
ding turns again to her practice Miss Heed re-opens
the register and listens again. A little interval of
silence ensues, while Bansom lights a cigarette.
Grinnidge : " So you sought opportunities of
rescuing her from other cows ? "
Ransom, returning : " That wasn't necessary.
The young lady was so impressed by my behavior,
that she asked if I would give her some lessons in
the use of oil."
Grinnidge : " She thought if she knew how to
paint pictures like yours she wouldn't need any one
to drive the cows away."
Ransom: "Don't be farcical, Grinnidge. That
sort of thing will do with some victim on the
126 THE SLEEPING-CAB
witness-stand who can't help himself. Of course
I said I would, and we were off half the time
together, painting the loveliest and loneliest bits
around Ponkwasset. It all went on very well, till
one day I felt bound in conscience to tell her that I
didn't think she would ever learn to paint, and that
if she was serious about it she'd better drop it at
once, for she was wasting her time."
Grinnidge, getting up to fill his pipe : " TL .
was a pleasant thing to do."
Ransom, : " I told her that if it amused her, to
keep on ; I would be only too glad to give her all
the hints I could, but that I oughtn't to encourage
her. She seemed a good deal hurt. I fancied at
the time that she thought I was tired of having
her with me so much."
Miss Reed: "Oh, did you, indeed!" To Miss
Spaulding, who bends an astonished glance upon
her f rom the piano : " The man in this book is the
most conceited creature, Nettie. Play chords —
something very subdued — ah!"
Miss Spaulding : "What are you talking about,
Ethel?"
Ransom : " That was at night ; but the next day
she came up smiling, and said that if I didn't mind
AND OTHER FARCES. 127
she would keep on — for amusement ; she wasn't a
bit discouraged."
Miss Beed : " Oh ! — Go on, Nettie ; don't let
my outbursts interrupt you."
Hansom : " I used to fancy sometimes that she
was a little sweet on me."
Miss Beed : " You wretch ! — Oh, scales, Nettie !
Play scales ! "
Miss Spaulding: "Ethel Beed, are you crazy ?"
Hansom, after a thoughtful moment : " Well, so
it went on for the next seven or eight weeks.
When we weren't sketching in the meadows, or on
the mountain-side, or in the old punt on the pond,
we were walking up and down the farmhouse
piazza together. She used to read to me when
I was at work. She had a heavenly voice,
Grinnidge."
Miss Beed: " Oh, you silly, silly thing ! — Really
this book makes me sick, Nettie."
Bansom: "Well, the long and the short of it
was, I was hit — hard, and I lost all courage. You
know how I am, Grinnidge."
Miss Beed, softly : " Oh, poor fellow ! "'
Bansom : " So I let the time go by, and at the
end I hadn't said anything."
128 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Miss Seed: "No, sir! You hadn't!" Miss
Spaulding gradually ceases to play, and fixes her
attention wholly upon Miss Reed, who bends for-
ward over the register with an intensely excited
face.
Hansom : " Then something happened that made
me glad, for twenty-four hours at least, that I
hadn't spoken. She sent me the money for twenty-
five lessons. Imagine how I felt, Grinnidge!
What could I suppose but that she had been
quietly biding her time, and storing up her resent-
ment for my having told her she couldn't learn to
paint, till she could pay me back with interest in
one supreme insult ? "
Miss Reed, in a low voice : " Oh, how could you
think such a cruel, vulgar thing ? " Miss Spaul-
ding leaves the piano, and softly approaches her,
where she has sunk on her knees beside the
register.
Ransom : " It was tantamount to telling me that
she had been amusing herself with me instead of
my lessons. It remanded our whole association,
which I had got to thinking so romantic, to the
relation of teacher and pupil. It was a snub — a
heartless, killing snub ; and I couldn't see it in any
AND OTHER FAROES. 129
other light." Ransom, walks away to the window,
and looks out.
Miss Reed, flinging herself backward from the
register, and hiding her face in her hands : " Oh,
it wasn't ! it wasn't ! it wasn't ! Mow could you
think so ? "
Miss Spaulding, rushing forward, and catching
her friend in her arms : " What is the matter with
you, Ethel Eeed ? What are you doing here, over
the register ? Are you trying to suffocate your-
self ? Have you taken leave of your senses ? "
Grinnidge : " Our fair friend on the other side
of the wall seems to be on the rampage."
Miss Spaulding, shutting the register with a
violent clash : " Ugh ! how hot it is here ! "
Qrinnidge: "Doesn't like your conversation,
apparently."
Miss Reed, frantically pressing forward to open
the register: "Oh, don't shut it, Nettie, dear!
If you do I shall die! Do-o-n't shut the regis-
ter!"
Miss Spaulding: "Don't shut it? Why, we've
got all the heat of the furnace in the room now.
Surely you don't want any more ? "
Miss Reed: "No, no; not any more. But—
130 THE SLEEPING-CAR
but— Oh, dear! what shall I do?" Sho still
struggles in the embrace of her friend.
Grinnidge, remaining quietly at the register,
while Hansom walks away to the window : " Well,
what did you do ? "
Miss Beed: "There, there! They're commen-
cing again! Do open it, Nettie. I will have it
open ! " She wrenches herself free, and dashes
the register open.
Grinnidge: "Ah, she's opened it again."
Miss Beed, in a stage-whisper: "That's the
other one ! "
Ransom, from the window : " Do ? I'll tell you
what I did."
Miss Beed: "That's 01 — Mr. Bansom. And,
oh, I can't make out what he's saying ! He must
have gone away to the other side of the room —
and it's at the most important point ! "
Miss Spaulding, in an awful undertone: "Was
that the hollow rumbling I heard ? And have you
been listening at the register to what they've been
saying? O Ethel!"
Miss Beed : " I haven't been listening, exactly."
Miss Spaulding: "You have! You have been
eavesdropping ! "
AND OTHER FAECES. 131
Miss Reed : " Eavesdropping is listening through
a key-hole, or around a corner. This is very
different. Besides, it's Oliver, and he's been talk-
ing about me. Hark ! " She clutches her friend's
hand, where they have crouched upon the floor to-
gether, and pulls her forward to the register. " Oh,
dear, how hot it is ! I wish they would cut off the
heat down below."
Grinnidge, smoking peacefully through the
silence which his friend has absent-mindedly let
follow upon his last words : " Well, you seem dis-
posed to take your time about it."
Ransom : " About what ? Oh, yes ! Well " —
Miss Reed: "'Sh! Listen."
Miss Spaulding : " I won't listen ! It's shame-
ful : it's wicked ! I don't see how you can do it,
Ethel ! " She remains, however, kneeling near the
register, and she involuntarily inclines a little more
toward it.
Ransom: " — It isn't a thing that I care to shout
from the house-tops." He returns from the window
to the chimney-piece. " I wrote the rudest kind of
note, and sent back her letter and her money in it.
She had said that she hoped our acquaintance was
not to end with the summer, but that we might
132 THE SLEBPING-CAK
sometimes meet in Boston ; and I answered that
our acquaintance had ended already, and that I
should be sorry to meet her anywhere again."
Grinnidffe: "Well, if you wanted to make an
ass of yourself, you did it pretty completely."
Miss Reed, whispering : " How witty he is !
Those men are always so humorous with each
other."
Ransom : "Yes ; I didn't do it by halves."
Miss Reed, whispering : " Oh, thaffs funny,
too!"
Grinnidge: "It didn't occur to you that she
might feel bound to pay you for the first half-
dozen, and was embarrassed how to offer to pay for
them alone ? "
Miss Reed : " How he does go to the heart of the
matter ! " She presses Miss Spaulding's hand in an
ecstasy of approval.
Ransom : " Yes, it did — afterward."
Miss Reed, in a tender murmur: "Oh, poor
Oliver ! "
Ransom : " And it occurred to me that she was
perfectly right in the whole affair."
Miss Reed : " Oh, how generous ! how noble ! "
Ransom : " I had had a thousand opportunities,
AND OTHER FARCES. 133
and I hadn't been man enough to tell her that I
was in love with her."
Miss Reed : " How can he say it right out so
bluntly ? But if it's true " —
Ransom : "I cottldn't speak. I was afraid of
putting an end to the affair — of frightening her"-
disgusting her."
Miss Seed: "Oh, how little they know us,
Nettie ! "
Ramsom: "She seemed so much above me in
everyway — so sensitive, so refined, so gentle, so
good, so angelic ! "
Miss Reed : " There ! Now do you call it eaves-
dropping ? If listeners never hear any good of
themselves, what do you say to that ? It proves
that I haven't been listening."
Miss Spaulding : "'Sh! They're saying some-
thing else."
Ransom : " But all that's neither here nor there.
I can see now that under the circumstances she
couldn't as a lady have acted otherwise than she
did She was forced to treat our whole acquaint-
ance as a business matter, and I had forced her to
do it."
Miss Reed : " You had, you poor thing ! "
134 THE SLEEPING-CAK
Grinnidge: "Well, what do you intend to do
about it ? "
Ransom: "Well" —
Miss Reed : " 'Sh ! "
Miss Spaulding : " 'Sh ! "
Ransom : " — that's what I want to submit to
you, Grinnidge. I must see her."
Grinnidge : " Yes. I'm glad i" mustn't."
Miss Reed, stifling a laugh on Miss Spaulding's
shoulder : " They're actually afraid of us, Nettie ! "
Ransom : " See her, and go down in the dust."
Miss Reed : " My very words ! "
Ransom : " I have been trying to think what was
the very humblest pie I could eat, by way of pen-
ance ; and it appears to me that I had better begin
by saying that I have come to ask her for the
money I refused."
Miss Reed, enraptured : " Oh ! doesn't it seem
just like — like — inspiration, Nettie ? "
Miss Spaulding: "'Sh! Be quiet, do! You'll
frighten them away ! "
Grinnidge : " And then what ? "
Ransom : " What then ? I don't know what
then. But it appears to me that, as a gentleman,
I've got nothing to do with the result. All that
AND OTHER FAECES. 135
I've got to do is to submit to my fate, whatever
it is."
Miss Reed, breathlessly: "What princely cour-
age ! What delicate magnanimity ! Oh, he
needn't have the least fear ! If I could only tell
him that ! "
Grinnidge, after an interval of meditative
smoking : " Yes, I guess that's the best thing you
can do. It will strike her fancy, if she's an im-
aginative girl, and she'll think you a fine fellow."
Miss Reed : " Oh, the horrid thing ! "
Grinnidge : " If you humble yourself to a
woman at all, do it thoroughly. If you go half-
way down she'll be tempted to push you the rest
of the way. ' If you flatten out at her feet to begin
with, ten to one but she will pick you up."
Ransom : "Yes, that was my idea."
Miss Reed : " Oh, was it, indeed ! Well ! "
Ransom : " But I've nothing to do with her pick-
ing me up or pushing me down. All that I've got
to do is to go and surrender myself."
Grinnidge : " Yes. Well ; I guess you can't go
too soon. I like your company ; but I advise you
as a friend not to lose time. Where does she
live?"
136 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Ransom: "That's the remarkable part of it:
she lives in this house."
Miss Reed and Miss Spaulding, in subdued
chorus: "Oh!"
Grinnidge, taking his pipe out of his mouth in
astonishment : " Kb ! "
Ransom : " I just came in here to give my good
resolutions a rest while I was screwing my courage
up to ask for her."
Miss Reed : " Don't you think he's very humor-
ous ? Give his good resolutions a rest J That's
the way he always talks."
Miss Spaulding : " 'Sh ! "
Grinnidge: "You said you came for my ad-
vice."
Ransom: "So I did. But I didn't promise to
act upon it. Well ! " He goes toward the door.
Grinnidge, without troubling himself to rise:
"Well, good luck to you ! "
Miss Reed: "How droll they are with each
other ! Don't you like to hear them talk ? Oh, I
could listen all day."
Grinnidge, Calling after Ransom : " You haven't
told me your duck's name."
Miss Reed : " Is that what they call us ? Duck I
AND OTHER FAECES. 137
Do you think it's very respectful, Nettie ? I don't
believe I like it. Or, yes, why not ? It's no harm
— if I am his duck ! "
Ransom, coming back: "Well, I don't propose
to go shouting it round. Her name is Miss Reed
— Ethel Seed."
Miss Reed : " How can he ? "
Grinnidge : " Slender, willowy party, with a lot
of blond hair that looks as if it might be in-
digenous ? Rather pensive-looking ? "
Miss Seed : " Indigenous ! I should hope so ! "
Ransom: "Yes. But she isn't pensive. She's
awfully deep. It makes me shudder to think how
deep that girl is. And when I think of my cour-
age in daring to be in love with her — a stupid,
straightforward idiot like me — I begin to respect
myself in spite of being such an ass. Well, I'm
off. If I stay any longer I shall never go." He
closes the door after him, and Miss Reed instantly
springs to her feet.
Miss Reed : "Now he'll have to go down to the
parlor and send up his name, and that just gives
me time to do the necessary prinking. You stay
here and receive him, Nettie."
Miss Spaulding : "Never! After what's hap>
138 THE SLEEPING-CAK
pened I can never look him in the face again. Oh,
how low, and mean, and guilty I feel ! "
Miss Reed, with surprise : " Why, how droll !
Now I don't feel the least so."
Miss Spaulding : " Oh, it's very different with
you. You're in love with him."
Miss Heed : " For shame, Nettie ! I'm not in
love with him."
Miss Spaulding: "And you can explain and
justify it. But I never can justify it to myself,
much less to him. Let me go, Ethel ! I shall tell
Mrs. McKnight that we must change this room
instantly. And just after I'd got it so nearly in
order ! Go down and receive him in the parlor,
Ethel. I can't see him."
Miss Reed : " Eeceive him in the parlor ! Why,
Nettie, dear, you're crazy ! I'm going to accept
him : and how can I accept him — with all the
consequences — in a public parlor ? No, indeed !
If you won't meet him here for a moment, just to
oblige me, you can go into the other room. Or, no
— you'd be listening to every word through the
key-hole, you're so demoralized ! "
Miss Spaulding : " Yes, yes, I deserve your con-
tempt, Ethel."
AND OTHER FAUCES. 139
Miss Reed, laughing: "You will have to go out
for a walk, you poor thing ; and I'm not going to
have you coming back in five or ten minutes. You
have got to stay out a good hour."
Miss Spaulding, running' to get her things from
the next room : " Oh, I'll stay out till midnight ! "
Miss Meed, responding to a tap at the door:
" Ye-e-s ! Come in ! — You're caught, Nettie."
A maid-servant, appearing with a card : " This
gentleman is asking for you in the parlor, Miss
Eeed."
Miss Heed : " Oh ! Ask him to come up here,
please. — Nettie ! Nettie ! " She calls to her friend
in the next room. " He's coming right up, and if
you don't run you're trapped."
Miss Spaulding, re-appearing, cloaked and bon-
neted : " I don't blame you, Ethel, comparatively
speaking. You can say that everything is fair in
love. He will like it, and laugh at it in you,
because he'll like everything you've done. Besides,
you've no principles, and I have."
Miss Reed : " Oh, I've lots of principles, Nettie,
but I've no practice ! "
Miss Spaulding: "No matter. There's no ex-
cuse for me. I listened simply because I was a
140 THE SLEEPING-CAE
woman, and couldn't help itj and, oh, what will
he think of me ? "
Miss Beed: "I won't give you away; if you
really feel so badly" —
Miss Spaulding : "Oh, do you think you can
keep from telling him, Ethel dear ? Try ! And I
will be your slave forever ! " Steps are heard on
the stairs outside. " Oh, there he comes ! " She
dashes out of the door, and closes it after her, a
aaoment before the maid-servant, followed by Mr.
Ransom, taps at it.
AND OTHBB FARCES. 141
III.
Scene : Miss Seed opens the door, and receives
Mr. Ransom with well-affected surprise and
state, suffering him to stand awkwardly on the
threshold for a moment.
She, coldly : " Oh ! — Mr. Eansom ! "
He, abruptly : " I've come " —
She : "Won't you come in ? "
He, advancing a few paces into the room : "I've
come " —
She, indicating a chair : "Will you sit down ? "
He: "I must stand for the present. I've come
to ask you for that money, Miss Beed, which I
refused yesterday, in terms that I blush to think
of. I was altogether and wholly in the wrong,
and I'm ready to offer any imaginable apology or
reparation. I'm ready to take the money and
to sign a receipt, and then to be dismissed with
whatever ignominy you please. I deserve any-
thing — everything ! "
142 THE SLEEPING-CAB
She : " The money ? Excuse me ; I don't know
— I'm afraid that I'm not prepared to pay you
the -whole sum to-day."
He, hastily : " Oh, no matter ! no matter ! I
don't care for the money now. I merely wish to
— to assure you that I thought you were perfectly
right in offering it, and to — to " —
She: "What?"
He: "Nothing. That is — ah — ah " —
She: "It's extremely embarrassing to have peo-
ple refuse their money when it's offered them, and
then come the next day for it, when perhaps it
isn't so convenient to pay it — very embarrassing."
He, hotly: "But I tell you I don't want the
money I I never wanted it, and wouldn't take it
on any account."
She: "Oh! I thought you said you came to
get it ? "
He : " I said — I didn't say — I meant — that is
— ah — I " — He stops, open-mouthed.
She, quietly : " I could give you part of the
money now."
He : " Oh, whatever you like ; it's indifferent " —
She : " Please sit down while I write a receipt."
She places herself deliberately at the table, and
AND OTHER FAECES. 143
opens her portfolio. "I will pay you now, Mr.
Ransom, for the first six lessons you gave me —
the ones before you told me that I could never
learn to do anything."
He, sinking mechanically into the chair she indi-
cates : " Oh, just as you like ! " He looks up at the
ceiling in hopeless bewilderment, while she writes.
She, blotting the paper : " There ! And now let
me offer you a little piece of advice, Mr. Ransom,
which may be useful to you in taking pupils
hereafter."
He, bursting out : f I never take pupils ! "
She: "Never take pupils ! I don't understand.
You took me."
He, confusedly : " I took you — yes. You
seemed to wish — you seemed — the case was
peculiar — peculiar circumstances."
She, with severity: "May I ask why the cir-
cumstances were peculiar ? I saw nothing peculiar
about the circumstances. It seemed to me it was
a very simple matter. I told you that I had
always had a great curiosity to see whether I
could use oil paints, and I asked you a very plain
question, whether you would let me study with
you. Didn't I ? "
144 THE SIJEEPING-CAK
He: "Yes."
She: "Was there anything wrong — anything
queer about my asking you?"
He : No, no ! Not at all — not in the least."
She : " Didn't you wish me to take the lessons
of you ? If you didn't, it wasn't kind of you to
let me."
He: "Oh, I was perfectly willing — very glad
indeed, very much so — certainly ! "
She : " If it wasn't your custom to take pupils,
you ought to have told me, and I wouldn't have
forced myself upon you."
He, desperately: "It wasn't forcing yourself
upon me. The Lord knows how humbly grateful
I was. It was like a hope of heaven !"
She: "Really, Mr. Ransom, this is very strange
talk. What am I to understand by it ? Why
should you be grateful to teach me ? Why should
giving me lessons be like a hope of heaven ? "
He: "Oh, I will tell you!"
She: "Well?"
He, after a moment of agony : " Because to be
with you " —
She: "Yes?"
He : " Because I wished to be with you. Be-
A2JD OTHBB PABCBS. 145
cause — those days in the woods, when you read,
audi" —
She : " Painted on my pictures " —
He: "Were the happiest of my life. Because
— I loved you!"
She: "Mr. Ransom!"
He: "Yes, I must tell you so. I loved you; I
love you still. I shall always love you, no matter
what" —
She: ''You forget yourself, Mr, Ransom. Has
there been anything in my manner — conduct — to
justify you in using such language to me ? "
He: "No — no" —
She : " Did you suppose that because I first took
lessons of you from — from — an enthusiasm for
art, and then continued them for — for — amuse-
ment, that I wished you to make love to me ? "
He: "No, I never supposed such a thing. I'm
incapable of it. I beseech you to believe that no
one could have more respect — reverence " — He
twirls his hat between his hands, and casts an im-
ploring glance at her.
She: "Oh, respect — reverence! I know what
they mean in the mouths of men. If you re-
spected, if you reverenced me, could you dare to
146 THE SLEEPING-CAB
tell me, after my unguarded trust of you during
the past months, that you had been all the time
secretly in love with me ? "
He, plucking up a little courage : " I don't see
that the three things are incompatible."
She: "Oh, then you acknowledge that you did
presume upon something you thought you saw in
me to tell me that you loved me, and that you
were in love with me all the time ? "
He, contritely : "I have no right to suppose that
you encouraged me ; and yet — I can't deny it now
— I was. in love with you all the time."
She: "And you never said a word to let me
believe that you had any such feeling toward
me!"
He: "I — I" —
She : "You would have parted from me without
a syllable to suggest it — perhaps parted from me
forever ? " After a pause of silent . humiliation
for him: "Do you call that brave or generous?
Do you call it manly — supposing, as you hoped,
that / had any such feeling ?."
He ;, " No ; it was cowardly, it was mean, it Was
unmanly. I see it now, but I will spend my life
v in ^repairing the wrong, if you. will only let me.7
AND OTHER FARCES. 147
He impetuously advances some paces toward her,
and then stops, arrested by her irresponsive
attitude.
She, with a light sigh, and looking down at the
paper, which she has continued to hold between
her hands: "There was a time — a moment —
when I might have answered as you wish."
He: "Oh! then there will be again. If you
have changed once, you may change once more.
Let me hope that some time — any time, dearest " —
She, quenching him with a look : "Mr. Kansom,
I shall never change toward you I You confess
that you had your opportunity, and that you de-
spised it."
Re : " Oh ! not despised it ! "
She: "Neglected it."
He: "Not wilfully — no. I confess that I was
, stupidly, vilely, pusillan — pusillan — illani " —
She: "'Mously" —
He : " Thanks — 'mously unworthy of it ; but I
didn't despise it; I didn't neglect it; and if you
will only let me show by a lifetime of devotion
how dearly and truly I have loved you from the
first moment I drove that cow away " —
She: "Mr. Kansom, I have told you that I
148 THE SLEEPING-CAR
should never change toward you. That cow was
nothing when weighed in the balance against your
being willing to leave a poon girl, whom you sup-
posed interested in you, and to whom you had paid
the most marked attention, without a word to show
her that you cared for her. What is a cow, or a
whole herd of cows, as compared with obliging a
young lady to offer you money that you hadn't
earned, and then savagely flinging it back in her
face ? A yoke of oxen would be nothing — or a
mad bull."
He : " Oh, I acknowledge it ! I confess it."
She : " And you own that I am right in refusing
to listen to you now ? "
He, desolately : " Yes, yes."
She: "It seems that you gave me lessons in
order to be with me, and if possible to interest me
in you ; and then you were going away without a
word."
He, with a groan : " It was only because I was
afraid to speak."
She : " Oh, is that any excuse ? "
He : " No ; none."
She: "A man ought always to have courage."
After a pause, in which he stands before her with
AND OTHER FARCES. 149
bowed head : " Then there's nothing for me but to
give you this money."
He, with sudden energy : " This is too much !
I" —
She, offering him the bank-notes : " No ; it is
the exact sum. I counted it very carefully."
He : " I won't take it ; I can't ! I'll never
take it ! "
She, standing with the money in her outstretched
hand : " I have your word as a gentleman that you
will take it."
He, gasping: "Oh, well — I will take it — I
will " — He clutches the money, and rushes toward
the door. " Good-evening ; ah — good-by " —
She, calling after him : " The receipt, Mr. Han-
som ! Please sign this receipt ! " She waves the
paper in the air.
He : " Oh, yes, certainly ! Where is it — what
— which " — He rushes back to her, and seizing
the receipt, feels blindly about for the pen and ink.
"Where shall I sign ? "
She: "Bead it first."
He : '■' Oh, it's all — all right " —
She : " I insist upon your reading it. It's a busi
lies,s transaction Bead it aloud."
150 THE SLEEPING-CAK
He, desperately : " Well, well ! " He reads.
" ' Eeceived from Miss Ethel Keed, in full, for
twenty-five lessons in oil-painting, one hundred
and twenty-five dollars, and her hand, heart, and
dearest love forever.' " He looks up at her.
"Ethel!"
She, smiling : " Sign it, sign it ! "
He, catching her in his arms and kissing her :
" Oh, yes — here ! "
She, pulling a little away from him, and laugh-
ing : " Oh, oh ! I only wanted one signature !
Twenty autographs are too many, unless you'll let
me trade them off, as the collectors do."
He : " No ; keep them all ! I couldn't think of
letting any one else have them. One more ! "
She : " No ; it's quite enough ! " She frees
herself, and retires beyond the table. "This
unexpected affection " —
He : " Is it unexpected — seriously ? "
She : " What do you mean ? "
He : " Oh, nothing ! "
She : " Yes, tell me ! "
He : " I hoped — I thought — perhaps — that
you might have been prepared for some such
demonstration on my part."
AND OTHER FAECES. 151
She: "And why did you think — hope — per-
haps — that, Mr. Ransom, may I ask ? "
He : " If I hadn't, how should I have dared to
speak ? "
She : " Dared ? You were obliged to speak !
Well, since it's all over, I don't mind saying that I
did have some slight apprehensions that something
in the way of a declaration might be extorted from
you."
He : " Extorted ? Oh ! " He makes an impas-
sioned rush toward her.
She, keeping the table between them : " No, no."
He : " Oh, I merely wished to ask why you chose
to make me suffer so, after I had come to the
point."
She : " Ask it across the table, then." After a
moment's reflection, "I made you suffer — I made
you suffer — so that you might have a realizing
sense of what you had made me suffer."
He, enraptured by this confession: "Oh, you
angel ! "
She, with tender magnanimity : "No ; only a
woman — a poor, trusting, foolish woman ! " She
permits him to surround the table, with imaginable
results. Then, with her head on his shoulder;
152 THE SLEEPrNG-CA«
" You'll never let me regret it, will you, darling ?
You'll never oblige me to punish you again, dearest,
will you ? Oh, it hurt me far worse to see your
pain than it did you to — to — feel it ! " On the
other side of the partition, Mr. Grinnidge's pipe
falls from his lips, parted in slumber, and shivers
to atoms on the register. " Oh ! " She flies at the
register with a shriek of dismay, and is about to
close it. " That wretch has been listening, and has
heard every word ! "
He, preventing her : " What wretch ? Where ? "
She: "Don't you hear him, mumbling and
grumbling there ? "
Grinnidge : " Well, I swear ! Cash value of
twenty-five dollars, and untold toil in coloring it ! "
Ransom, listening with an air of mystification:
"Who's that?"
She: "Gurnmidge, Grimmidge — whatever you
called him. Oh ! " She arrests herself in con-
sternation. " Now I have done it ! "
He: "Done what?"
She: "Oh — nothing!"
He : " I don't understand. Do you mean to say
that my friend Grinnidge's room is on the other
side of the wall, and that you can hear him talk
AND OTHER FAECES. 153
through the register ? " She preserves the silence
of abject terror. He stoops over the register, and
calls down it. " Grinnidge ! Hallo ! "
Grinnidge : " Hallo, yourself ! "
Hansom, to Miss Reed : " Sounds like the ghostly
squeak of the phonograph." To Grinnidge:
"What's the trouble?"
Grinnidge : " Smashed my pipe. Dozed off and
let it drop on this infernal register."
Ransom, turning from the register with impres-
sive deliberation : " Miss Eeed, may I ask how you
came to know that his name was Gummidge, or
Grimmidge, or whatever I called him ? "
She : Oh, dearest, I can't tell you ! Or — yes, I
had better." Impulsively : " I will judge you by
myself. I could forgive you anything ! "
He, doubtfully : " Oh, could you ? "
She : " Everything ! I had — I had better make
a clean breast of it. Yes, I had. Though I don't
like to. I — I listened ! "
He: "Listened?"
She: "Through the register to — to — what —
you — were saying before you — came in here."
Her head droops.
He : " Then you heard everything ? "
154 THE SLEEPING-CAR
She : " Kill me, but don't look so at me ! It was
accidental at first — indeed it was; and then I
recognized your voice ; and then I knew you were
talking about me ; and I had so much at stake ;
and I did love you so dearly ! You will forgive
me, darling? It wasn't as if I were listening
with any bad motive."
He, taking her in his arms : " Forgive you ? Of
course I do. But you must change this room at
once, Ethel ; you see you hear everything on the
other side, too."
She: "Oh, not if you whisper on this. You
couldn't hear us?" At a dubious expression of
his : " You didn't hear us ? If you did, I can
never forgive you ! "
He : "It was accidental at first — indeed it was ;
and then I recognized your voice ; and then I
knew you were talking about me ; and I had so
much at stake ; and I did love you so dearly ! "
She : "All that has nothing whatever to do with
it. How much did you hear ? "
He, with exemplary meekness : " Only what you
were saying before Grinnidge came in. You didn't
whisper then. I had to wait there for him
while " —
..AND OTHEK, FAECES. 155
She : " While you were giving your good resolu-
tions a rest ? "
He : " While I was giving my good resolutions a
rest."
She: "And that accounts for your determina-
tion to humble yourself so ? "
He: "It seemed perfectly providential that I
should have known just what conditions you were
going to exact of me."
She : " Oh, don't make light of it ! I can tell
you it's a very serious matter."
He: "It was very serious for me when you
didn't meet my self-abasement as you had led me
to expect you would."
She: "Don't make fun! I'm trying to think
whether I can forgive you."
He, with insinuation : " Don't you believe you
could think better if you put your head on my
shoulder ? "
She : " Nonsense ! Then I should forgive you
without thinking." After a season of reflection:
" No, I can't forgive you. I never could forgive
eavesdropping. It's too low."
He, in astonishment: "Why, you did it your-
self!"
156 THE SLEEPING-CAB
She: "But you began it. Besides, it's very
different for a man. Women are weak, poor, help-
less creatures. They have to use finesse. But a
man should be above it."
He : " You said you could forgive me anything."
She: "Ah, but I didn't know what you'd been
doing ! "
He, with pensive resignation, and a feint of
going : " Then I suppose it's all over between us."
She, relenting : " If you could think of any
reason why I should forgive you " —
Me: "I can't."
She, after consideration : " Do you suppose Mr.
Grumage, or Grimidge, heard too ? "
He: "No; Grinnidge is a very high-principled
fellow, and wouldn't listen; besides, he wasn't
there, you know."
She : " Well, then, I will forgive you on these
grounds." He instantly catches her to his heart.
"But these alone, remember."
He, rapturously : " Oh, on any ! "
She, tenderly : " And you'll always be devoted ?
And nice ? And not try to provoke me ? Or neg-
lect me ? Or anything ? "
He : " Always ! Never I "
AND OTHER FAECES. 157
She : " Oh, you dear, sweet, simple old thing —
how I do love you ! "
Grinnidge, who has been listening attentively to
every word at the register at his side : " Eansom,
if you don't want me to go stark mad, shut the
register ! "
Ransom, about to comply : " Oh, poor old man !
I forgot it was open ! "
Miss Seed, preventing him: "No! If he has
been vile enough to listen at a register, let him
suffer. Come, sit down here, and I'll tell you just
when I began to care for you. It was long before
the cow. Do you remember that first morning
after you arrived " — She drags him close to the
register, so that every word may tell upon the
envious Grinnidge, on whose manifestations of
acute despair, a rapid curtain descends.
THE ELEVATOR.
FARCE.
THE ELEVATOR
Scene : Through the curtained doorway of Mrs.
JSdward Robertas pretty drawing-room, in Hotel
Bellingham, shows the snowy and gleaming
array of a table set for dinner, under the Him
light of gas-burners turned low. An air of
expectancy pervades the place, and the uneasi-
ness of Mr. Roberts, in evening dress, expresses
something more as he turns from a glance into
the dining-room, and still holding the porti&re
with one hand, takes out his watch with the
other.
Mr. Roberts to Mrs. Roberts entering the draw-
ing-room from regions beyond: "My dear, it's six
o'clock. What can have become of your aunt ? "
Mrs. Roberts, with a little anxiety : " That was
just what I was going to ask. She's never late ;
and the children are quite heart-broken. They
161
162 THE SLEEPIKG-CAB
had counted upon seeing her, and talking Christ-
mas a little before they were put to bed."
Roberts: "Very singular her not coming! Is
she going to begin standing upon ceremony with
us, and not come till the hour ? "
Mrs. Roberts : " Nonsense, Edward ! She's been
detained. Of course she'll be here in a moment.
How impatient you are ! "
Roberts: "You must profit by me as an awful
example."
Mrs. Roberts, going about the room, and be-
stowing little touches here and there on its orna-
ments : " If you'd had that new cook to battle
with over this dinner, you'd have learned patience
by this time without any awful example."
Roberts, dropping nervously into the nearest
chair: "I hope she isn't behind time."
Mrs. Roberts, drifting upon the sofa, and dispos-
ing her train effectively on the carpet around her :
"She's before time. The dinner is in the last
moment of ripe perfection now, when we must
still give people fifteen minutes' grace." She
studies the convolutions of her train absent-
mindedly.
Roberts, joining in its perusal : " Is that the
AND OTHER FAECES. 163
way you've arranged to be sitting when people
come in ? "
Mrs. Boberts: "Of course not. I shall get up
to receive them."
Roberts: "That's rather a pity. To destroy
such a lovely pose."
Mrs. Boberts : " Do you like it ? "
Boberts : " It's divine."
Mrs. Boberts : " You might throw me a kiss."
Boberts : " No ; if it happened to strike on that
train anywhere, it might spoil one of the folds.
I can't risk it." A ring is heard at the apart-
ment door. They spring to their feet simultane-
ously.
Mrs. Boberts : " There's Aunt Mary now ! " She
calls into the vestibule, "Aunt Mary ! "
Dr. Lawton, putting aside the vestibule portiere,
with affected timidity: "Very sorry. Merely a
father."
Mrs. Boberts : " Oh ! Dr. Lawton ? I am so glad to
see you ! " She gives him her hand : " I thought
it was my aunt. We can't understand why she
hasn't come. Why ! where's Miss Lawton ? "
Lawton: "That is precisely what I was going
to ask you."
164 the s:leeping-car
Mrs. Roberts: "Why,, she isn't here."
Lawton: "So it seems. I left her with the
carriage at, the door when I started to walk here.
She called after me down the stairs that, she
would be ready in three seconds, and begged me
to hurry, so that we could come in together, and
not let people know I'd saved half a dollar by
walking."
Mrs. Roberts: " She's been detained too ! "
Roberts,. coming forward : " How you know, what
it is to have a delinquent Aunt-Mary-in-law."
Lawton, shaking- hands with him : " Eoberts^
Is that you ? It's astonishing how little one
makes of the husband of a lady who gives a
dinner. In my time — a long time ago — he used
to carve. But nowadays, when everything is
served a la Russe, he might as well be abolished.
Don't you think, on the whole, , Bpbexts,, you'd
better not have come ? "
Roberts: "Well, you i see, T had no excuse. I
hated to say an engagement when I; hadn't any."
Lawton : " Oh, I understand. You wanted to
come. We all do, when Mrs. Roberts will let us."
Ku goes and sits down by Mrs. Roberts, who
Jus taken a more provisional pose on the sofa,
AND OTHER FAECES. 165
" Mrs. Boberts, you're the only woman in Boston
who could hope to get people, with a fireside of
their own — or a register — out to a Christmas
dinner. Tou know I still wonder at your effront-
ery a little ? "
Mrs. Roberts, laughing : "I knew I should catch
you if I baited my hook with your old friend."
Lawton: "Yes, nothing would have kept me
away when I heard Bemis was coming. But he
doesn't seem so inflexible in regard to me. "Where
is he ? "
Mrs. Roberts : " I'm sure I don't know. I'd no
idea I was giving such a formal dinner. But
everybody, beginning with my own aunt, seems
to think it a ceremonious occasion. There are only
to be twelve. Do you know the Millers ? "
Lawton, : "No, thank goodness ! One meets
some people so often that one fancies one's weari-
ness of them reflected in their sympathetic counte-
nances. Who are these acceptably novel Millers ? "
Mrs. Roberts: "Do explain the Millers to the
doctor, Edward."
Roberts, standing on the hearth-rug, with his
thumbs in his waistcoat pockets : " They board."
Lawton: "Genus. That accounts for their will-
166 THE SLEEPING-CAR
ingness to flutter round your evening lamp when
they ought to be singeing their wings at their
own. Well, species ? "
Roberts : " They're very nice young newly mar-
ried people. He's something or other of some
kind of manufactures. And Mrs. Miller is dis-
posed to think that all the other ladies are as fond
of him as she is."
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh ! That is not so, Edward."
Lawton: "You defend your sex, as women
always do. But you'll admit that, as your friend,
Mrs. Miller may have this foible."
Mrs. Roberts: "I admit nothing of the kind.
And we've invited another young couple who
haven't gone to housekeeping yet — the Curwens.
And he has the same foible as Mrs. Miller." Mrs.
Roberts takes out her handkerchief, and laughs
into it.
Lawton : " That is, if Mrs. Miller has it, which
we both deny. Let us hope that Mrs. Miller and
Mr. Curwen may not get to making eyes at each
other."
Roberts : " And Mr. Bemis and his son complete
the list. Why, Agnes, there are only ten. You
said there were twelve."
AND OTHER FAECES. 167
Mrs. Roberts : " Well, never mind. I meant ten.
I forgot that the Somerses declined." A ring is
heard. " Ah ! that's Aunt Mary." She runs into
the vestibule, and is heard exclaiming without:
"Why, Mrs. Miller, is it you? I thought it was
my aunt. Where is Mr. Miller?"
Mrs. Miller, entering the drawing-room arm in
arm with her hostess : " Oh, he'll be here directly.
I had to let him run back for my fan."
Mrs. Roberts: "Well, we're very glad to have
you to begin with. Let me introduce Dr. Lawton."
Mrs. Miller, in a polite murmur : " Dr. Lawton."
In a louder tone : " Mr. Eoberts ! "
Lawton: "You see, Eoberts? The same ag-
grieved surprise at meeting you here that I
felt."
Mrs. Miller: "What in the world do you
mean ? "
Lawton : " Don't you think that when a husband
is present at his wife's dinner party he repeats
the mortifying superfluity of a bridegroom at a
wedding ? "
Mrs. Miller : " I'm sure I don't know what you
mean. I should never think of giving a dinner
without Mr. Miller."
168 THE StEEPING-CAE
Lwwton: "No?" A ring is heard. "There's
Bemis."
Mrs. Miller: "It's Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Roberts: "Aunt Mary at last!" As she
bustles toward the door : " Edward, there are
twelve — Aunt Mary and Willis."
Roberts: "Oh, yes. I totally forgot Willis;"
Lawton : " Who's Willis ? "
Roberts : " Willis ? Oh, Willis is my wife's
brother. We always have him."
Lawton : " Oh, yes, Campbell."
Mrs. Roberts, without: "Mr. Bemis! So kind
of you to come on Christmas."
Mr. Bemis, without : " So kind of you to ask us
houseless strangers."
Mrs. Roberts, without : " I ran out here, think-
ing it was my aunt. She's played us a trick, and
hasn't come yet."
Bemis, entering the drawing-room with Mrs.
Roberts: "I hope she won't fail altogether. I
haven't met her for twenty years, and I counted
so much upon the pleasure — Hello, Lawton ! "
Lawton: "Hullo, old fellow!" They fly at
each other, and shake hands. "Glad to see you
again."
AND OTHBE FAECES. 169
*
Bemis, reaching his left hand to Mr. Roberts,
while Mr. Lawton keeps his right: "Ah! Mr.
Roberts."
Lawton: "Oh, never mind him. He's merely
the husband _of the hostess."
Mrs. Miller, to Roberts.- " What does he mean ? "
Roberts : " Oh, nothing. Merely a joke he's ex-
perimenting with."
Lawton to Bemis : " Where's your boy ? "
Bemis : " He'll be here directly. He preferred
to walk. Where's your girl ? "
Lawton: "Oh, she'll come by and by. She pre-
ferred to drive."
Mrs. Roberts, introducing them: "Mr. Bemis,
have you met Mrs. Miller?" She drifts away
.again, manifestly too uneasy to resume even a
provisional pose on the sofa, and walks detachedly
about the room.
Bemis : " What a lovely apartment Mrs. Roberts
has."
Mrs. Miller: "Exquisite! But then she has
such perfect taste."
Bemis, to Mrs. Roberts, who drifts near them :
"We were talking about your apartment, Mrs.
Roberts. It's charming."
170 THE SLEEPING-CAR
Mrs. Roberts: "It is nice. It's the ideal way
of living. All on one floor. No stairs. Nothing."
Bemis : " Yes, when once you get here ! But
that little matter of five pair up " —
Mrs. Boberts: "You don't mean to say you
walked up! Why in the world didn't you take
the elevator ? "
Bemis : " I didn't know you had one."
Mrs. Boberts : " It's the only thing that makes
life worth living in a flat. All these apartment
hotels have them."
Bemis : " Bless me ! Well, you see, I've been
away from Boston so long, and am back so short a
time, that I can't realize your luxuries and con-
veniences. In Florence we always walk up.
They have aseenseurs in a few great hotels, and
they brag of it in immense signs on the sides of
the building."
Lawton : "What pastoral simplicity ! We are
elevated here to a degree that you can't conceive
of, gentle shepherd. Has yours got an air-cushion,
Mrs. Boberts ? "
Mrs. Boberts : " An air-cushion ? What's that ? "
Lawton : " The only thing that makes your life
worth a moment's purchase in an elevator. You
AND OTHER FAECES. 171
get in with a glass of water, a basket of eggs, and
a file of the 'Daily Advertiser.' They cut the
elevator loose at the top, and you drop."
Both Ladies: "Oh!"
Lawton: "In three seconds you arrive at the
ground-floor, reading your file of the ' Daily
Advertiser ; ' not an egg broken nor a drop spilled.
I saw it done in a New York hotel. The air is
compressed under the elevator, and acts as a sort
of ethereal buffer."
Mrs. Roberts : " And why don't we always go
down in that way ? "
Lawton: "Because sometimes the walls of the
elevator shaft give out."
Mrs. Roberts : " And what then ? "
Lawton : " Then the elevator stops more abruptly.
I had a friend who tried it when this happened."
Mrs. Roberts : " And what did he do ? "
Lawton : " Stepped out of the elevator ; laughed ;
cried ; went home : got into bed : and did not get
up for six weeks. Nervous shock. He was
fortunate."
Mrs. Miller : " I shouldn't think you'd want an
air-cushion on your elevator, Mrs. Eoberts."
Mrs. Roberts: "No, indeed! Horrid!" The
172 THE SLEEPING-CAB
bell Tings. "Edward, you go and see if that's
Aunt Mary."
Mrs. Miller : "It's Mr. Miller, I know."
Bemis: "Or my son."
Lawton : " My voice is for Mrs. Boberts's
brother. I've given up all hopes of my daughter."
Roberts, without : " Oh, Curwen ! Glad to see
you 1 Thought you were my wife's aunt."
Lwwton, at a suppressed sigh from Mrs. Roberts :
" It's one of his jokes, Mrs. Eoberts. Of course
it's your aunt."
Mrs. Roberts, through her set teeth, smilingly :
" Oh, if it is, I'll make him suffer for it."
Mr. Curwen, without : " No, I hated to wait, so
I walked up."
Lawton: "It is Mr. Curwen, after all, Mrs.
Eoberts. Now let me see how a lady transmutes
a frown of threatened vengeance into a smile of
society welcome."
Mrs. Roberts: "Well, look J" 'To Mr. •Curwen,
who enters, followed by her husband : " Ah, Mr.
Curwen ! So glad to see you. You know all our
friends here — Mrs. Miller, Dr. Lawton, and Mr.
Bemis?"
Curwen, smiling and bowing, and shaking hands
AND OTHER FARCES. 175
right and left: "Very glad — very happy —
pleased to know you."
Mrs. Roberts, behind her fan to Dr. Lawton:
"Didn't I do it beautifully?"
Lawton, behind his hand : " Wonderfully ! And
so unconscious of the fact that he hasn't his wife
with him."
Mrs. Roberts, in great astonishment, to Mr.
Curwen: "Where - in the world is Mrs. Curwen?"
Curwen : " Oh — oh — she'll be here. I thought
she was here. She started from home with two
right-hand gloves, and I had to go back for a left,
and I — I suppose — Good heavens!" pulling
the glove out of his pocket. "I ought to have
sent it to her in- the; ladies' dressing-room." He
remains with the glove held up before him, in
spectacular stupefaction.
Lawton: "Only imagine what Mrs. Curwen
would be saying of you if she were in the /dress-
ing-room."
Roberts : " Mr. Curwen felt so sure she was
there that he wouldn't wait to take the elevator,
and walked up." Another ring is heard. " Shall
I go and meet your aunt now, my dear ? "
Mrs. Roberts: "No, indeed! She may come in
174 THE SLEEPING-CAR
now with all the formality she chooses, and I will
receive her excuses in state." She waves her fan
softly to and fro, concealing a murmur of trepida-
tion under an indignant air, till the porti&re opens,
and Mr. Willis Campbell enters. Then Mrs.
Roberts breaks in nervous agitation "Why,
Willis ! Where's Aunt Mary ? "
Mrs. Miller : "And Mr. Miller ? "
Curwen : " And Mrs. Curwen ? "
Lawton : " And my daughter ? "
Bemis : " And my son ? "
Mr. Campbell, looking tranquilly round on the
faces of his interrogators : "Is it a conundrum ?"
Mrs. Roberts, mingling a real distress with an
effort of mock-heroic solemnity : " It is a tragedy !
Willis dear ! it's what you see — what you hear ;
a niece without an aunt, a wife without a husband,
a father without a son, and another father with-
out a daughter."
Roberts : " And a dinner getting cold, and a cook
getting hot."
Lawton : " And you are expected to account for
the whole situation."
Campbell: "Oh, I understand! I don't know
what your little game is, Agnes, but I can wait
and see. I'm not hungry."
AND OTHER FAECES. 175
Mrs. Roberts: "Willis, do you think I would
try and play a trick on you, if I could ? "
Campbell: "I think you can't. Come, now,
Agnes ! It's a failure. Own up, and bring the
rest of the company out of the next room. I sup-
pose almost anything is allowable at this festive
season, but this is pretty feeble."
Mrs. Roberts : " Indeed, indeed, they are not
there."
Campbell : " Where are they, then ? "
All: " That's what we don't know."
Campbell : " Oh, come, now ! that's a little too
thin. You don't know where any of all these
blood-relations and connections by marriage are ?
Well, search me ! "
Mrs. Roberts, in open distress: "Oh, I'm sure
something must have happened to Aunt Mary ! "
Mrs. Miller: "I can't understand what Ellery
C. Miller means."
Lawton, with a simulated sternness: "I hope
you haven't let that son of yours run away with
my daughter, Bemis ? "
Bemis : " I'm afraid he's come to a pass where
he wouldn't ask my leave."
Curwen, re-assuring himself: "Ah, she's all
right, of course. I know that " —
1T6 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Bemis: "Miss Lawton ? "'
Curwen : "No, no — Mrs. Curwen."
Campbell: " Is it a true bill, Agnes ? "
Mrs. Roberts: "Indeed it is, Willis. We've
been expecting: her for an hour — of course she
always' comes early — and I'm afraid she's been
taken ill suddenly;"
Roberts : "Oh, I don't think it's that, my dear."
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, of course you never think
anything's wrong, Edward. My whole family
might die, and " — ilfrs. Roberts restrains herself,
and turns to Mr. Campbell, with hysterical cheerful-
ness ':■' "Who came up in the elevator with you ? "
Campbell :- "Me ? I didn't come in the elevator.
I had my usual luck. The elevator was up some-
where, and. after I'd pressed the annunciator
button till my thumb ached, I watched my chance
and walked < up."
Mrs. Roberts : " Where was the janitor ? "
Campbell; "Where: the' janitor always is —
nowhere:"
Lawton : "Eating his Christmas dinner; proba-
bly." ,
Mrs. Roberts, partially abandoning and then
recovering herself: "Yes, it's perfectly spoiled)
AND OTHER FAECES. 177
Well, friends, I think we'd better go to dinner —
that's the only way to bring them. I'll go out
and interview the cook." Sotto voce to her hus-
band : " If I don't go somewhere and have a cry,
I shall break down here before everybody. Did
you ever know anything so strange? It's per-
fectly — pokerish."
Lawton : "Yes, there's nothing like serving din-
ner to bring the belated guest. It's as infallible
as going without an umbrella when it won't rain."
Campbell : " No, no ! Wait a minute, Eoberts.
You might sit down without one guest, but you
can't sit down without five. It's the old joke
about the part of Hamlet. I'll just step round to
Aunt Mary's house — why, I'll be- back in three
minutes."
Mrs. Eoberts, with perf ervid gratitude : " Oh,
how good you are, Willis ! You don't know how
much you're doing ! What presence of mind you
have ! Why couldn't we have thought of sending
for her ? Willis, I can never be grateful enough
to you ! But you always think of everything."
Roberts: "I accept my punishment meekly,
Willis, since it's in your honor."
Lawton: "It's a simple and beautiful solution,
178 THE SLEEPING-CAK,
Mrs. Eoberts, as far as your aunt's concerned ; but
I don't see how it helps the rest of us."
Mrs. Miller to Mr. Campbell: "If you meet
Mr. Miller " —
Curwen : " Or my wife " —
Bemis : " Or my son " —
Lawton : " Or my daughter " —
Campbell: "I'll tell them they've just one
chance in a hundred to save their lives, and that
one is open to them for just five minutes."
Lawton : " Tell my daughter that I've been here
half an hour, and everybody knows I drove here
with her."
Bemis: "Tell my son that the next time I'll
walk, and let him drive."
Mrs. Miller: "Tell Mr. Miller I found I had
my fan after all."
Curwen : " And Mrs. Curwen that I've got her
glove all right." He holds it up.
Mrs. Roberts, at a look of mystification and
demand from her brother : " Never mind explana-
tions, Willis. They'll understand, and we'll ex-
plain when you get back."
Lawton, examining the glove which Curwen
holds up : " Why, so it is right ! "
AND OTHER FAECES. 179
Curwen : " What do you mean ? "
Lawton: "Were you sent Dack to get a left
glove ? "
Curwen : " Yes, yes ; of course."
Lawton : " Well, if you'll notice, this is a right
one. The one at home is left."
Curwen, staring helplessly at it: "Gracious
Powers ! what shall I do ? "
Lawton : " Pray that Mrs. Curwen may never
come."
Mr. Curwen, dashing through the door : " I'll be
back by the time Mr. Campbell returns."
Mrs. Miller, with tokens of breaking down visible
to Mrs. Roberts: "I wonder what could have kept
Mr. Miller. It's so very mysterious, I " —
Mrs. Roberts, suddenly seizing her by the arm,
and hurrying her from the room : " Now, Mrs.
Miller, you've just got time to see my baby."
Mr. Roberts, winking at his remaining guests:
" A little cry will do them good. I saw as soon
as Willis came in instead of her aunt, that my
wife couldn't get through without it. They'll
come back as bright as" —
Lawton: "Bemis, should you mind a bereaved
father falling upon your neck ? "
180 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Bemi* : " Yes> Lawton, I think I should."
La/wton : " Well, it is rather odd about all those
people. You can say of one or two that they've
been delayed, but five people can't have been
delayed. It's too much. It amounts to a coin-
cidence. Hello ! What's that ? "
Roberts : " What's what ? "
Lawton : "I thought I heard a cry."
Roberts: "Very likely you did. They profess
to deaden these floors so that you can't hear from
one apartment to another. But I know pretty
well when my neighbor overhead is trying to
wheel his baby to sleep in a perambulator at three
o'clock in the morning; and I guess our young
lady lets the people below understand when she's
wakeful. But it's the only way to live, after all.
I wouldn't go back to the old up-and-down-stairs,
house-in-a-block system on any account. Here we
all live on the ground-floor practically. The
elevator equalizes everything."
Bemis : " Yes, when it happens to be where you
are. I believe I prefer the good old Florentine
fashion of walking upstairs, after all."
Lawton: "Boberts, I did hear something.
Hark ! It sounded like a cry for help. There ! "
AND OTHER FAUCES. 181
Roberts : " You're nervous, doctor. It's nothing.
However, it's easy enough to go out and see." He
goes out to the door of the apartment, and imme-
diately returns. He beckons to Dr. Lawton and
Mr. Bern is, with a mysterious whisper : " Gome
here both of you. Don't alarm the ladies/'
182 THE SLBBPING-CAE
II.
In the interior of the elevator are seated Mrs.
Roberts's Aunt Mary (Mrs. Crashaw), Mrs.
Curwen, and Miss Lawton; Mr. Miller and Mr.
Alfred Bemis are standing with their hats in
their hands. They are in dinner costume, with
their overcoats on their arms, and the ladies'
draperies and ribbons show from under their
outer wraps, where they are caught up, and held
with that caution which characterizes ladies in
sitting attitudes which they have not been able
to choose deliberately. As they talk together,
the elevator rises very slowly, and they continue
talking for some time before they observe that it
has stopped.
Mrs. Crashaw : " It's very fortunate that we are
all here together. I ought to have been here half
an hour ago, but I was kept at home by an acci-
dent to my finery, and before I could be put in
repair I heard it striking the quarter past. I
AND OTHER FAECES. 183
don't know what my niece will say to me. I hope
you good people will all stand by me if she should
be violent."
Miller: "In what a poor man may with his
wife's fan, you shall command me, Mrs. Crashaw."
He takes the fan out, and unfurls it.
Mrs. Crashaw: "Did she send you back for
it?"
Miller : " I shouldn't have had the pleasure of
arriving with you if she hadn't."
Mrs. Crashaw, laughing, to Mrs. Curwen.-
"What did you send yours back for, my dear?"
Mrs. Curwen, thrusting out one hand gloved,
and the other ungloved: "I' didn't want two
rights."
Young Mr. Bemis: " Not even women's rights ? "
Mrs. Curwen : " Oh, so young and so depraved !
Are all the young men in Florence so bad?"
Surveying her extended arms, which she turns
over : " I don't know that I need have sent him
for the other glove. I could have explained to
Mrs. Eoberts. Perhaps she would have forgiven
my coming in one glove."
Miller, looking down at the pretty arms: "If
she had seen you without."
184 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Mrs. Curwen: "Oh,, you were looking!" She
rapidly involves her arms in her -wrap. Then she
suddenly unwraps them, and regards them thought-
fully. "What if he should bring a ten-button
instead of an eight ! And he's quite capable of
doing it."
Miller: "Are there such things as ten-button
gloves ? "
Mrs. Curwen: "You would think there were
ten-thousand button gloves if you had them to
button."
Miller: "It would depend upon whom I had to
button them for."
Mrs. Curwen : " For Mrs. Miller, for example."
Mrs. Crashaw : " We women are too bad, always
sending people back for something. It's well the
men don't know how bad."
Mrs. Curwen : " 'Sh ! Mr. Miller is listening.
And he thought we were perfect. He asks noth-
ing better than to be sent back for his wife's fan.
And he doesn't say anything even under his
breath when she finds she's forgotten it, and
begins, 'Oh, dearest, my fan' — Mr. Curwen does.
But he goes all the same. I hope you have your
father in good training, Miss Lawton. Tou must
AND OTHER FARCES. 185
commence with your father, if you expect your
husband to be ' good.' "
Miss Lawton: "Then mine will never behave,
for papa is perfectly incorrigible."
Mrs. Curwen : " I'm sorry to hear such a bad
report of him. Shouldn't you think he would be
' good,' Mr. Bemis ? "
Young Mr. Bemis: "I should think he would
try."
Mrs. Curwen: "A diplomat, as well as a
punster already ! I must warn Miss Lawton."
Mrs. Crashaw, interposing to spare the young
people : " What an amusing thing elevator etiquette
is! Why should the gentlemen take their hats
off? Why don't you take your hats off in a
horse-car ? "
Miller: "The theory is that the elevator is a
room."
Young Mr. Bemis : "We were at a hotel in
London where they called it the Ascending
Room."
Miss Lawton : " Oh, how amusing ! "
Miller, looking about : " This is a regular draw-
ing-room for size and luxury. They're usually
such cribs in these hotels."
186 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Mrs. Crashaw: "Yes, it's very nice, though I
say it that shouldn't of my niece's elevator. The
worst ahout it is, it's so slow."
Miller : " Let's hope it's sure."
Young Mr. Bemis : " Some of these elevators in.
America go up like express trains."
Mrs. Curwen, drawing her shawl about her
shoulders, as if to be ready to step out : " Well, I
never get into one without taking my life in my
hand, and my heart in my mouth. I suppose
every one really expects an elevator to drop with
them, some day, just as everybody really expects
to see a ghost some time."
Mrs. Crashaw: "Oh, my dear! what an ex-
tremely disagreeable subject of conversation."
Mrs. Curwen: "I can't help it, Mrs. Crashaw.
When I reflect that there are two thousand eleva-
tors in Boston, and that the inspectors have just
pronounced a hundred and seventy of them un-
safe, I'm so desperate when I get into one that I
could — flirt!"
Miller, guarding himself with the fan: "Not
with me ? "
Miss Lawton, to young Mr. Bemis : " How it
does creep ! "
AND OTHER FAECES. 187
Young Mr. Be/mis, looking down fondly at her :
"Oh, does it?"
Mrs. Crashaw : "Why, it doesn't go at all ! It's
stopped. Let ns get out." They all rise.
The Elevator Boy, pulling at the rope : " We're
not there, yet."
Mrs. Crashaw, with mingled trepidation and
severity: "Not there? What are you stopping,
then, for ? "
The Elevator Boy : " I don't know. It seems to
be caught."
Mrs. Crashaw : " Caught ? "
Miss Lawton : " Oh, dear ! "
Young Mr. Bemis: "Don't mind."
Miller : " Caught ? Nonsense ! "
Mrs. Curwen : " We're caught, I should say."
She sinks back on the seat.
The Elevator Boy : " Seemed to be going kind of
funny all day ! " He keeps tugging at the rope.
Miller, arresting the boy's efforts : " Well, hold
on — stop ! What are you doing ? "
The Elevator Boy : " Trying to make it go."
Miller: "Well, don't be so — violent about it.
You might break something."
The Elevator Boy: "Break a wire rope like
that!"
188 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Miller: "Well, well, be quiet now. Ladies, I
think you'd better sit down — and as gently as
possible. I wouldn't move about much."
Mrs. Curwen: "Move! We're stone. And I
wish for my part I were a feather."
Miller, to the boy: "Er — a — er — where do
you suppose we are ? "
The Elevator Boy : " We're in the shaft between
the fourth and fifth floors." He attempts a fresh
demonstration on the rope, but is prevented.
Miller: "Hold on! Er — er" —
Mrs. Crashaw, as if the boy had to be com-
municated with through an interpreter: "Ask
him if it's ever happened before."
Miller : " Yes. Were you ever caught before ? "
The Elevator Boy : "No."
Miller: "He says no."
Mrs. Crashaw: "Ask him if»the elevator has a
safety device."
Miller : " Has it got a safety device ? "
The Elevator Boy : " How should I know ? "
Miller : " He says he don't know."
Mrs. Curwen, in a shriek of hysterical laughter :
" Why, he understands English ! "
Mrs. Crashaw, sternly ignoring the insinuation :
AND OTHER FAUCES. 189
"Ask him if there's any means of calling the
janitor."
Miller : " Could you call the janitor ? "
The Elevator Boy, ironically : "Well, there ain't
any telephone attachment."
Miller, solemnly : " No, he says there isn't."
Mrs. Crashaw, sinking back on the seat with
resignation : " Well, I don't know what my niece
will say."
Miss Lawton : " Poor papa ! "
Young Mr. Bends, gathering one of her wan-
dering hands into his : "Don't be frightened. I'm
sure there's no danger."
The Elevator Boy, indignantly : "Why, she can't
drop. The cogs in the runs won't let her ! "
Ml: "Oh!"
Miller, with a sigh of relief: "I knew there
must be something of the kind. Well, I wish my
wife had her fan."
Mrs. Curwen: "And if I had my left glove I
should be perfectly happy. Not that I know
what the cogs in the runs are ! "
Mrs. Crashaw: "Then we're merely caught
here ? "
Miller: "That's all."
190 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Mrs. Curwen: "It's quite enough for the pur-
pose. Couldn't you put on a life-preserver, Mr. Mil-
ler, and go ashore and get help from the natives ? "
Miss Lawton, putting her handkerchief to her
eyes : " Oh, dear ! "
Mrs. Crashaw, putting her arm around her:
"Don't be frightened, my child. There's no
danger."
Young Mr. Bemis, caressing the hand which he
holds : " Don't be frightened."
Miss Lawton : " Don't leave me."
Young Mr. Bemis: "No, no; I won't. Keep
fast hold of my hand."
Miss Lawton : " Oh, yes, I will ! I'm ashamed
to cry."
Young Mr. Bemis, fervently : " Oh, you needn't
be ! It is perfectly natural you should."
Mrs. Curwen : " I'm too badly scared for tears.
Mr. Miller, you seem to be in charge of this ex-
pedition — couldn't you do something? Throw
out ballast, or let the boy down in a parachute ?
Or I've read of a shipwreck where the survivors,
in an open boat, joined in a cry, and attracted the
notice of a vessel that was going to pass them.
We might join in a cry."
AND OTHER FARCES. 191
Miller: "Oh, it's all very well joking, Mrs.
Curwen " —
Mrs. Curwen: " You call it joking ! "
Miller : " But it's not so amusing, being cooped
up here indefinitely. I don't know how we're to
get out. We can't join in a cry, and rouse the
whole house. It would be ridiculous."
Mrs. Curwen : " And our present attitude is so
eminently dignified! Well, I suppose we shall
have to cast lots pretty soon to see which of us
shall be sacrificed to nourish the survivors. It's
long past dinner-time."
Miss Lawton, breaking down: "Oh, don't say
such terrible things."
Young Mr. Bemis, indignantly comforting her :
"Don't, don't cry. There's no danger. It's per-
fectly safe."
Miller to the Elevator Boy : " Couldn't you climb
up the cable, and get on to the landing, and — ah !
— get somebody ? "
The Elevator Boy: "I could, maybe, if there
was a hole in the roof."
Miller, glancing up : " Ah ! true."
Mrs. Crashaw, with an old lady's serious kind-
ness : " My boy, can't you think of anything to do
for us ? "
192 THE SLEEPING-CAB
The Elevator Boy yielding to the touch of
humanity, and bursting into tears: "No, ma'am,
I can't. And everybody's blamin' me, as if I done
it. What's my poor mother goin' to do ? "
Mrs. Crashaw, soothingly: "But you said tha,
runs in the cogs" —
The Elevator Boy: "How can I tell! That's
•what they say. They hain't never been tried."
Mrs. Curwen, springing to her feet : " There ! I
knew I should. Oh " — She sinks fainting to the
floor.
Mrs. Crashaw, abandoning Miss Lawton to the
ministrations of young Mr. Bemis, while she kneels
beside Mrs. Curwen, and chafes her hand: "Oh,
poor thing ! I knew she was overwrought by the
way she was keeping up. Give her air, Mr.
Miller. Open a — Oh, there isn't any window ! "
Miller, dropping on his knees, and fanning Mrs,
Curwen : " There ! there ! Wake up, Mrs. Curwen,
I didn't mean to scold you for joking. I didn't,
indeed. I — I — I don't know what the deuce
I'm up to." He gathers Mrs. Curwen's inanimate
form in his arms, and fans her face where it lies
on his shoulder. "I don't know what my wife
would say if" —
AND OTHER FARCES. 193
Mrs. Crashaw : "She would say that you were
doing your duty."
Miller, a little consoled : " Oh, do you think so ?
Well, perhaps."
Young Mr. Bemis : " Do you feel faint at all,
Miss Lawton ? "
Miss Lawton: "No, I think not. No, not if
you say it's safe."
Young Mr. Bemis : " Oh, I'm sure it is ! "
Miss Lawton, renewing her hold upon his hand :
"Well, then! Perhaps I hurt you ? "
Young Mr. Bemis : " No, no ! You couldn't."
Miss Lawton : " How kind yoo are ! "
Mrs. Curwen, opening her eyes : " Where " —
Miller, rapidly transferring her to Mrs. Crashaw :
"Still in the elevator, Mrs. Curwen." Rising to
his feet: "Something must be done. Perhaps we
had better unite in a cry. It's ridiculous, of
ojurse. But it's the only thing we can do. Now,
then ! Hello ! "
Miss Lawton : " Papa ! "
Mrs. Crashaw : " Agne-e-e-S ! "
Mrs. Curwen, faintly : "Walter!"
The Elevator Boy : "Say!"
Miller: "Oh, that won't do. All join in
'Hello!'"
194 THE SLEEPING-CAB
All: "Hello!"
Miller : " Once more I "
All: "Hello!"
Miller : " Once more ! "
All: "Hello!"
Miller: "Now wait a while." After an inter*
val: "No, nobody coming." He takes out Ms
watch. " We must repeat this cry at intervals of
a half-minute. Now, then!" They all join in
the cry, repeating it as Mr. Miller makes the
signal with his lifted hand.
Miss Lawton : " Oh, it's no use ! "
Mrs. Crashaw : "They don't hear."
Mrs. Curwen : " They won't hear."
Miller : "Now, then, three times I "
AU: "Hello! hello! hello I"
AND OTHER FAECES. 195
III.
Roberts appears at the outer door of his apartment
on the fifth floor. It opens upon a spacious
landing, to which a wide staircase ascends at
one side. At the other is seen the grated door
to the shaft of the elevator. He peers about
on all sides, and listens for a moment before he
speaks.
Roberts : " Hello yourself."
Miller, invisibly from the shaft: "Is that you,
Roberts ? "
Roberts : " Yes ; where in the world are you ? "
Miller : " In the elevator."
Mrs. Crashaw : " We're all here, Edward."
Roberts : " What ! You, Aunt Mary ! "
Mrs. Crashaw: "Yes. Didn't I say so ? "
Roberts : "Why don't you come up ? "
Miller : " We can't. The elevator has got stack
somehow."
196 THE SLEEPDTG-CAB
Roberts: "Got stuck? Bless my soul! How
did it happen ? How long have you been there ? "
Mrs. Curwen : " Since the world began ! "
Miller: "What's the use asking how it hap-
pened ? We don't know, and we don't care.
What we want to do is to get out."
Roberts: "Yes, yes! Be careful!" He rises
from his frog-like posture at the grating, and
walks the landing in agitation. "Just hold on a
minute ! "
Miller : " Oh, we sha'n't stir."
Roberts : "I'll see what can be done."
Miller: "Well, see quick, please. We have
plenty of time, but we don't want to lose any.
Don't alarm Mrs. Miller, if you can help it."
Roberts: "No, no."
Mrs. Curwen : " You may alarm Mr. Curwen."
Roberts : " What ! Are you there ? "
Mrs. Curwen: "Here? I've been here all my
life ! "
Roberts: "Ha! ha! ha! That's right. We'll
soon have you out. Keep up your spirits."
Mrs. Curwen : " But I'm not keeping them up."
Miss Lawton : " Tell papa I'm here too."
Roberts : " What ! You too, Miss Lawton ? "
AND OTHEB FAECES. 197
Mrs. Crashaw : "Yes, and young Mr. Bemis.
Didn't I tell you we were all here ? "
Roberts : " I couldn't realize it. Well, wait a
moment."
Mrs. Curwen : " Oh, you can trust us to wait."
Roberts, returning with. Dr. Lawton, and Mr.
Bemis, who join him in stooping around the
grated door of the shaft: "They're just under
here in the well of the elevator, midway between
the two stories."
Lawton : " Ha ! ha ! ha ! You don't say so."
Bemis : " Bless my heart ! What are they
doing there ? "
Miller : " We're not doing anything."
Mrs. Curwen: "We're waiting for you to do
something."
Miss Lawton : " Oh, papa ! "
Lawton: "Don't be troubled, Lou, we'll soon
have you out."
Young Mr. Bemis: "Don't be alarmed, sir.
Miss Lawton is all right."
Miss Lawton : "Yes, I'm not frightened, papa."
Lawton : " Well, that's a great thing in cases of
this kind. How did you happen to get there ? "
Miller, indignantly : " How do you suppose ?
We came up in the elevator."
198 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Lawton : " Well, why didn't you come the rest
of the way ? "
Miller: "The elevator wouldn't."
Lawton : " What seems to be the matter ? "
Miller : " We don't know."
Lawton : " Have you tried to start it ? "
Miller : " Well, I'll leave that to your imagina-
tion."
Lawton: "Well, be careful what you do. You
might " —
Miller, interrupting: "Eoberts, who's that
talking ? "
Roberts, coming forward politely : " Oh, excuse
me ! I forgot that you didn't know each other.
Dr. Lawton, Mr. Miller." Introducing them.
Lawton : " Glad to know you."
Miller : " Very happy to make your acquaint-
ance, and hope some day to see you. And now,
if you have completed your diagnosis " —
Mrs. Curwen: "None of us have ever had it
before, doctor ; nor any of our families, so far as
we know."
Lawton : " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Very good ! Well,
just keep quiet. We'll have you all out of there
presently."
AND OTHER FARCES. 199
Bemis : " Yes, remain perfectly still."
Roberts : " Yes, we'll have you out. Just wait."
Miller : " You seem to think we're going to run
away. Why shouldn't we keep quiet? Do you
suppose we're going to be rery boisterous, shut up
here like rats in a trap ? "
Mrs. Curwen : " Or birds in a cage, if you want
a more pleasing image."
Mrs. Crashaw: "How are you going to get us
out, Edward ? "
Roberts: "We don't know. yet. But keep
quiet " —
Miller : " Keep quiet ! Great heavens ! we're
afraid to stir a finger. Now don't say 'keep
quiet' any more, for we can't stand it."
Lawton: "He's in open rebellion. What are
you going to do, Koberts?"
Roberts, rising and scratching his head: "Well,
I don't know yet. We might break a hole in the
roof."
Lawton: "Ah, I don't think that would do.
Besides you'd have to get a carpenter."
Roberts: "That's true. And it would make a
racket, and alarm the house" — staring desper-
ately at the grated doorway of the shaft. " If I
200 THE SLEEPING-CAB
could only find an elevator man — an elevator
builder! But of course they all live in the
suburbs, and they're keeping Christmas, and it
would take too long, anyway."
Bemis : " Hadn't you better send for the police ?
It seems to me it's a case for the authorities."
Lawton: "Ah, there speaks the Europeanized
mind! They always leave the initiative to the
authorities. Go out and sound the fire-alarm,
Eoberts. It's a case for the Fire Department."
Boberts: "Oh, it's all very well to joke, Dr.
Lawton. Why don't you prescribe something ? "
Lawton: "Surgical treatment seems to be in-
dicated, and I'm merely a general practitioner."
Boberts : " If Willis were only here, he'd find
some way out of it. Well, I'll have to go for
help somewhere " —
Mrs. Boberts and Mrs. Miller, bursting upon the
scene : " Oh, what is it ? "
Lawton : " Ah, you needn't go for help, my dear
fellow. It's come ! "
Mrs. Boberts: "What are you all doing here,
Edward?"
Mrs. Miller : " Oh, have you had any bad news
of Mr. Miller ? "
AND OTHEK FARCES. 201
Mrs. Roberts : " Or Aunt Mary ? "
Miller, calling up: "Well, are you going to
keep us here all night? Why don't you do
something ? "
Mrs. Miller: "Oh, what's that? Oh, it's Mr.
Miller ! Oh, where are you, Ellery ? "
Miller : " In the elevator."
Mrs. Miller : " Oh ! and where is the elevator ?
Why don't you get out ? Oh " —
Miller : "It's caught, and we can't."
Mrs. Miller : " Caught ? Oh, then you will be
killed — killed — killed! And it's all my fault,
sending you back after my fan, and I had it all
the time in my own pocket; and it comes from
my habit of giving it to you to carry in your
overcoat pocket, because it's deep, and the fan
can't break. And of course I never thought of
my own pocket, and I never should' have thought
of it at all if Mr. Curwen hadn't been going back
to get Mrs. Curwen's glove, for he'd brought
another right after she'd sent him for a left, and
we were all having such a laugh about it, and I
just happened to put my hand on my pocket, and
there I felt the fan. And oh, what shall I do ? "
Mrs. Miller utters these explanations and self-
202 THE SLEEPING-CAB
reproaches in a lamentable voice, while crouching
close to the grated door to the elevator shaft, and
clinging to its meshes.
Miller : " Well, well, it's all right. I've got you
another fan, here. Don't be frightened."
Mrs. Roberts, wildly: "Where's Aunt Mary,
Edward ? Has Willis got back ? " At a guilty
look from her husband: "Edward! don't tell me
that she's in that elevator ! Don't do it, Edward !
For your own sake don't. Don't tell me that your
own child's mother's aunt is down there, sus-
pended between heaven and earth like — like " —
Lawton : " The coffin of the Prophet."
Mrs. Roberts: "Yes. Don't tell me, Edward!
Spare your child's mother, if you won't spare your
wife ! "
Mrs. Crashaw : " Agnes ! don't be ridiculous.
I'm here, and I never was more comfortable in
my life."
Mrs. Roberts, calling down the grating: "Oh!
Is it you, Aunt Mary ? "
Mrs. Crashaw : " Of course it is ! "
Mrs. Roberts : " You recognize my voice ? "
Mrs. Crashaw: "I should hope so, indeed!
Why shouldn't I ? "
AND OTHER FARCES. 203
Mrs. Roberts : " And you know me ? Agnes ?
Oh!"
Mrs. Crashaw : " Don't be a goose, Agnes."
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, it is you, aunty. It is !
Oh, I'm so glad ! I'm so happy ! But keep per-
fectly still, aunty dear, and we'll soon have you
out. Think of baby, and don't give way."
Mrs. Crashaw: "I shall not, if the elevator
doesn't, you may depend upon that."
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, what courage you do have !
But keep up your spirits ! Mrs. Miller and I have
just come from seeing baby. She's gone to sleep
with all her little presents in her arms. The
children did want to see you so much before they
went to bed. But never mind that now, Aunt
Mary. I'm only too thankful to have you at
all ! "
Mrs. Crashaw : " I wish you did have me !
And if you will all stop talking and try some of
you to do something, I shall be greatly obliged
to you. It's worse than it was in the sleeping-
car that night."
Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, do you remember it, Aunt
Mary ? Oh, how funny you are ! " Turning
heroically to her husband: "Now, Edward, dear,
204 THE SLEEPING-CAB
get them out. If it's necessary, get them out ovei
my dead body. Anything! Only hurry. I will
be calm ; I will be patient. But you must act
instantly. Oh, here comes Mr. Curwen ! " Mr.
Curwen mounts the stairs to the landing with
every sign of exhaustion, as if he had made a
very quick run to and from his house. " Oh, he
will help — I know he will ! Oh, Mr. Curwen,
the elevator is caught just below here with my
aunt in it and Mrs. Miller's husband" —
Lawton : " And my girl."
Bemis : " And my boy."
Mrs. Curwen, calling up : " And your wife ! "
Curwen, horror-struck : " And my wife ! Oh,
heavenly powers ! what are we going to do ? How
Bhall we get them out? Why don't they come
up?"
All : " They can't."
Curwen : " Can't ? Oh, my goodness I " He
flies at the grating, and kicks and beats it.
Roberts : " Hold on ! What's the use of that ? "
Lawton : " Tou couldn't get at them if you beat
the door down."
Bemis : " Certainly not." They lay hands upon
him and restrain him.
AND OTHER FAUCES. 205
Curwen., struggling: "Let me speak to my
wife ! Will you prevent a husband from speaking
to his own wife ? "
Mrs. Miller, in blind admiration of his frenzy :
"Yes, that's just what I said. If some one had
beaten the door in at once " —
Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, Edward, dear, let him
speak to his wife." Tearfully : " Think if J were
there ! "
Roberts, releasing him: "He may speak to his
wife all night. But he mustn't knock the house
down."
Curwen, rushing at the grating: "Caroline!
Can you bear me ? Are you safe ? "
Mrs. Curwen: "Perfectly. I had a little faint
when we first stuck " —
Curwen: "Faint? Oh!"
Mrs. Curwen : "But I am all right now."
Curwen: "Well, that's right. Don't be fright-
ened ! There's no occasion for excitement. Keep
perfectly calm and collected. It's the only way —
What's that ringing ? " The sound of an electric
bell is heard within the elevator. It increases in
fury.
Mrs. Roberts and Mrs. Miller: "Oh, isn't it
dreadful ? "
206 THE SLEEPING-CAB
The Elevator Boy: "It's somebody on the
ground-floor callin' the elevator!"
Curwen: "Well, never mind him. Don't pay
the slightest attention to him. Let him go to the
deuce ! And, Caroline ! "
Mrs. Curwen: "Yes?"
Curwen : "I — I — I've got your glove all
right."
Mrs. Curwen : " Left, you mean, I hope ? "
Curwen : " Yes, left, dearest ! I mean left."
Mrs. Curwen: "Eight-button?"
Curwen: "Yes."
Mrs. Curwen: "Light drab ? "
Curwen, pulling a light yellow glove from his
pocket : " Oh ! " He staggers away from the gratr
ing and stays himself against the wall, the mis-
taken glove dangling limply from his hand.
Roberts, Lawton, and Bemis : " Ah ! ha ! ha !
ha!"
Mrs. Roberts : " Oh, for shame ! to laugh at such
a time ! "
Mrs. Miller : " When it's a question of life and
death. There ! The ringing's stopped. What's
that ? " Steps are heard mounting the stairway
rapidly, several treads at a time. Mr. Campbell
AND OTHER FAECES. 207
suddenly bursts into the group on the landing with
a final bound from the stairway. " Oh ! "
Campbell : " I can't find Aunt Mary, Agnes. I
can't find anything — not even the elevator.
"Where's the elevator ? I rang for it down there
till I was black in the face."
Mrs. Roberts : " No wonder ! It's here."
Mrs. Miller: "Between this floor and the floor
below. With my husband in it."
Curwen : "And my wife ! "
Lawton : " And my daughter ! "
Beards : *' And my son ! "
' Mrs. Roberts : " And aunty ! "
All : "And it's stuck fast."
Roberts : " And the long and short of it is,
Willis, that we don't know how to get them out,
and we wish you would suggest some way."
Lawton : " There's been a great tacit confidence,
among us in your executive ability and your in-
centive genius."
Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, yes, we know you can do
it."
' Mrs. Miller: "If you can't, nothing can save
them."
Campbell, going to the grating : " Miller t "
208 THE SLEEPING-OAR
Miller: "Well?"
Campbell : " Start her up ! "
Miller: "Now, look here, Campbell, we are not
going to stand that; we've had enough of it. I
speak for the whole elevator. Don't you suppose
that if it had been possible to start her up we " —
Mrs. Curwen : " We shouldn't have been at the
moon by this time."
Campbell : "Well, then, start her down / "
Miller.- "I never thought of that." To the
Elevator Boy : " Start her down." To the people
on the landing above : " Hurrah ! She's off ! "
Campbell: "Well, now. start her up I"
A joint cry from the elevator ; " Thank you !
we'll walk up this time,"
Miller: "Here! let us out at this landing!"
They are heard precipitately emerging, with sighs
and groans of relief, on the floor below.
Mrs. Roberts, devoutly : " Willis, it seems like
an interposition of Providence, your coming just
at this moment."
Campbell: "Interposition of common sense!
These hydraulic elevators weaken sometimes, and
can't go any farther."
Roberts, to the shipwrecked guests, who arrive
AND OTHER FAUCES. 209
at the top of the stairs, crestfallen, spent, and
clinging to one another for support : " Why didn't
you think of starting her down, some of you ? "
Mrs. Roberts, welcoming them with kisses and
hand-shakes : " I should have thought it would
occur to you at once."
Miller, goaded to exasperation : " Did it occur to
any of you ? "
Lawton, with sublime impudence : " It occurred
to all of us. But we naturally supposed you had
tried it."
Mrs. Miller, taking possession of her husband :
" Oh, what a fright you have given us ! "
Miller : " I given you ! Do you suppose I did
it out of a joke, or voluntarily ? "
Mrs. Roberts: "Aunty, I don't know what to
say to you. You ought to have been here long
ago, before anything happened."
Mrs. Crashaw : "Oh, I can explain everything
in due season. What I wish you to do now is to
let me get at Willis, and kiss him." As Campbell
submits to her embrace : " Tou dear, good fellow !
If it hadn't been for your presence of mind, I
don't know how we should ever have got out of
that horrid pen."
210 THE SLEEPING-CAB
Mrs. Curwen, giving him her hand : " As it isn't
proper for me to kiss you " —
Campbell : " Well, I don't know. I don't wish
to be too modest."
Mrs. Curwen : " I think I shall have to vote you
a service of plate."
Mrs. Roberts : " Come and look at the pattern oi
mine. And, Willis, as you are the true hero of
the occasion, you shall take me in to dinner. And
I am not going to let anybody go before you."
She seizes his arm, and leads the way from the
landing into the apartment. Roberts, Lawton, and
Bemis follow stragglingly.
Mrs. Miller, getting her husband to one side:
"When she fainted^ she fainted at you, of course !
What did you do ? "
Miller: "Who? If Oh!" After a moment's
reflection : " She came to ! "
Curwen, getting his wife aside: "When you
fainted, Caroline, who revived you ? "
Mrs. Curwen: "Who? Me? Oh! How should
I know ? I was insensible." They wheel arm in
arm, and meet Mr. and Mrs. Miller in the middle.
Mrs. Curwen yields precedence with an ironical 1
courtesy: "After you, Mrs. Miller!"
AND OTHER FAECES. 211
Mrs. Miller, in a nervous, inimical twitte* : " Oh,
before the heroine of the lost elevator ? "
Mrs. Curwen, dropping her husband's arm, and
taking Mrs. Miller's: "Let us split the differ-
ence."
Mrs. Miller : " Delightful ! I shall never forget
the honor."
Mrs. Curwen: "Oh, don't speak of honors ! Mr.
Miller was so kind through all those terrible scenes
in the elevator."
Mrs. Miller: "I've no doubt you showed your-
self duly grateful." They pass in, followed by
their husbands.
Young Mr. Bemis, timidly : " Miss Lawton, in
the elevator you asked me not to leave you. Did
you — ah — mean — I must ask you ; it may be
my only chance ; if you meant — never ? "
Miss Lawton, dropping her head : "I — I — don't
— know."
Young Mr. Bemis: "But if I wished never to
leave you, should you send me away ? "
Miss Lawton, with a shy, sly upward glance at
him : " Not in the elevator ! "
Young Mr. Bemis : " Oh ! "
Mrs. Roberts, re-appearing at the door : " Why,
212 THE SLEEPING-CAB.
you good-for-nothing young things, why don't you
come to — Oh ! excuse me ! " She re-enters pre-
cipitately, followed by her tardy guests, on whom
she casts a backward glance of sympathy. "Oh,
you needn't hurry ! "
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