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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 speak 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.]

MRS. ROBERTS: 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–

AUNT MARY
(sternly). Agnes, do as I say. [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 safe?

[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 subjects?

MRS. ROBERTS: Oh, I don’t mean accidents. But, 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 loth 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, 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 talking, various notes of protest, profane and otherwise, 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?