AUNT MARY (dryly). Yes. Good-night.
MRS. ROBERTS. Good-night, aunty. [After a pause of some minutes.] Aunty!
AUNT MARY. Well, what?
MRS. ROBERTS. Do you think it’s perfectly safe?
[She rises in her berth, and looks up over the edge of the upper.]
AUNT MARY. I suppose so. It’s a well-managed road. They’ve got the air-brake, I’ve heard, and the Miller platform, and all those horrid things. What makes you introduce such unpleasant subjects?
MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, I don’t mean accidents. But, you know, when you turn, it does creak so awfully. I shouldn’t mind myself; but the baby—
AUNT MARY. Why, child, do you think I’m going to break through? I couldn’t. I’m one of the lightest sleepers in the world.
MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, I know you’re a light sleeper; but—but it doesn’t seem quite the same thing, somehow.
AUNT MARY. But it is; it’s quite the same thing, and you can be perfectly easy in your mind, my dear. I should be quite as loth to break through as you would to have me. Good-night.