The Sleeping-Car: A Farce

by William Dean Howells

MR. ROBERTS (mystified). What?

MRS. ROBERTS. Willis.

MR. ROBERTS. Who?

MRS. ROBERTS. This Californian.

MR. ROBERTS. Oh!

MRS. ROBERTS. No stranger could have been so patient and—and—attentive; and I know that he recognized me from the first, and he’s just kept it up for a joke, so as to surprise us and have a good laugh at us when we get to Boston. Of course it’s Willis.

MR. ROBERTS (doubtfully). Do you think so, my dear?

MRS. ROBERTS. I know it. Didn’t you notice how he looked at your card? And I want you to go at once and speak to him, and turn the tables on him.

MR. ROBERTS. I—I’d rather not, my dear.

MRS. ROBERTS. Why, Edward, what can you mean?