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.