A VOICE from one of the berths. Lost step-son. Found! found at last!
[THE CALIFORNIAN 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?
THE CALIFORNIAN (eagerly). Both of 'em, ma'am--both of 'em.
THE VOICE. O 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 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 dignity
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.
AUNT MARY. Nonsense, Willis. Send the porter.
CAMPBELL (turning round and confronting THE PORTER). He was here upon
instinct. Shall he fetch a step-ladder?
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.