don't know why I should be thirsty. Are you, Aunt Mary? Ah! here it is.
Don't disturb yourself, aunty; I've found it. It was in my bag, just
where I'd put it myself. But all this trouble about Willis has made me
so fidgety that I don't know where anything is. And now I don't know how
to manage about the baby while I go after the water. He's sleeping
soundly enough now; but if he should happen to get into one of his
rolling moods, he might tumble out on to the floor. Never mind, aunty,
I've thought of something. I'll just barricade him with these bags and
shawls. Now, old fellow, roll as much as you like. If you should happen
to hear him stir, aunty, won't you--aunty! Oh, dear! she's asleep
already; and what shall I do? [While MRS. ROBERTS continues talking,
various notes of protest, profane and otherwise, make themselves heard
from different berths.] I know. I'll make a bold dash for the water,
and be back in an instant, baby. Now, don't you move, you little rogue.
[She runs to the water-tank at the end of the car, and then back to her
berth.] Now, baby, here's mamma again. Are you all right, mamma's own?

[A shaggy head and bearded face are thrust from the curtains of the next
berth.]

THE STRANGER. Look here, ma'am. I don't want to be disagreeable about
this thing, and I hope you won't take any offence; but the fact is, I'm
half dead for want of sleep, and if you'll only keep quiet now a little
while, I'll promise not to speak above my breath if ever I find you on a
sleeping-car after you've come straight through from San Francisco, day
and night, and not been able to get more than about a quarter of your
usual allowance of rest--I will indeed.

MRS. ROBERTS. I'm very sorry that I've disturbed you, and I'll try to be
more quiet. I didn't suppose I was speaking so loud; but the cars keep