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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 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 reappearing). 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 tonight. 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 suppose 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 mortification in a little sob, and then hides her grief behind the curtains of her berth. THE CALIFORNIAN slowly emerges again from his couch, and stands beside it, looking in upon the man in the berth above.]

THE CALIFORNIAN: 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 here, 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 expectancy. A remark to the effect that “The old lady seems to enjoy her rest” achieves a facile applause. THE CALIFORNIAN again addresses the culprit.] 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 CALIFORNIAN: You hear that? You stay quiet the rest of the time; and if that lady choses to keep us all awake the whole night, don’t you say a word, or I’ll settle with you in the morning.

[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.]

A VOICE: Oh, don’t just bow. Speak!

[A fresh burst of laughter greets this sally. THE CALIFORNIAN erects himself again with an air of baited wrath, and then suddenly breaks into a helpless laugh.]

THE CALIFORNIAN: Gentlemen, you’re too many for me.

[He gets into his berth, and after cries of “Good for California!” “You’re all right, William Nye!” and “You’re several ahead yet!” the occupants of the different berths gradually relapse into silence, and at last, as the car lunges onward through the darkness, nothing is heard but the rhythmical clank of the machinery, with now and then a burst of audible slumber from MRS. ROBERTS’S aunt MARY.]