MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, don't speak of it. _We_ are the ones who ought to
apologize. But if you only had been somebody, it would have been such a
good joke! We could always have had such a laugh over it, don't you see?

THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, ma'am, it would have been funny. But I hope
you've enjoyed it as it is.

MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, very much, thanks to you. Only I can't seem to get
reconciled to your not being anybody, after all. You _must_ at least be
some one we've heard about, don't you think? It's so strange that you
and Willis never even met. Don't you think you have some acquaintances
in common?

CAMPBELL. Look here, Agnes, do you always shout at the top of your voice
in this way when you converse in a sleeping-car?

MRS. ROBERTS. Was I talking loud again? Well, you can't help it if you
want to make people hear you.

CAMPBELL. But there must be a lot of them who don't want to hear you. I
wonder that the passengers who are not blood-relations don't throw things
at you--boots and hand-bags and language.

MRS. ROBERTS. Why, that's what they've _been_ doing--language, at
least--and I'm only surprised they're not doing it now.

THE CALIFORNIAN (rising). They'd better not, ma'am.

[He patrols the car from end to end, and quells some rising murmurs,
halting at the rebellious berths as he passes.]