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 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 be very strange if there
were two people from San Francisco of exactly the same name. _I_ will
speak.
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 anything
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 Framingham 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 can't, and I _won't_, and that's all about
it. [She leans forward and addresses the stranger with 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 Campbell 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 Roberts?
MRS. ROBERTS. Every one.