MRS. ROBERTS. I can't even be sure of the wrong one. No, no; you mustn't--[THE CALIFORNIAN moves away, and pauses in front of one of the berths, looking back inquiringly at MRS. ROBERTS.] Oh, don't ask _me_! _I_ can't tell. [To CAMPBELL.] _Isn't_ he amusing? So like all those Californians that one reads of--so chivalrous and _so_ humorous! AUNT MARY (thrusting her head from the curtains of the berth before which THE CALIFORNIAN is standing). Go along with you! What do you want? THE CALIFORNIAN. Aunt Mary. AUNT MARY. Go away. Aunt Mary, indeed! MRS. ROBERTS (running toward her, followed by CAMPBELL and MR. ROBERTS). Why, Aunt Mary, it _is_ you! And here's Willis, and here's Edward. AUNT MARY. Nonsense! How did they get aboard? MRS. ROBERTS. Edward came on at Worcester and Willis at Framingham, to surprise me. AUNT MARY. And a very silly performance. Let them wait till I'm dressed, and then I'll talk to them. Send for the porter. [She withdraws her head behind the curtain, and then thrusts it out again.] And who, pray, may _this_ be? [She indicates THE CALIFORNIAN.] MRS. ROBERTS. Oh, a friend of ours from California, who's been so kind to us all night, and who's going home with us. AUNT MARY. Another ridiculous surprise, I suppose. But he shall not surprise _me_. Young man, isn't your name Sawyer? THE CALIFORNIAN. Yes, ma'am. AUNT MARY. Abram? THE CALIFORNIAN. Abram Sawyer. You're right there, ma'am. MRS. ROBERTS. Oh! oh! I knew it! I knew that he must be somebody belonging to us. Oh, thank you, aunty, for thinking-- AUNT MARY. Don't be absurd, Agnes. Then you're my-- A VOICE from one of the berths. Lost step-son. Found! found at last! [THE CALIFORNIAN looks vainly round in an endeavor to identify the speaker, and then turns again to AUNT MARY.] AUNT MARY. Weren't your parents from Bath? THE CALIFORNIAN (eagerly). Both of 'em, ma'am--both of 'em. THE VOICE. O my prophetic soul, my uncle! AUNT MARY. Then you're my old friend Kate Harris's daughter? THE CALIFORNIAN. I might be her _son_, ma'am; but _my_ mother's name was Susan Wakeman. AUNT MARY (in sharp disgust). Call the porter, please. [She withdraws her head and pulls her curtains together; the rest look blankly at one another.] CAMPBELL. Another failure, and just when we thought we were sure of you. I don't know what we shall do about you, Mr. Sawyer. THE VOICE. Adopt him. CAMPBELL. That's a good idea. We will adopt you. You shall be our adoptive-- THE VOICE. Baby boy. ANOTHER VOICE. Wife. 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.