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