MR. ROBERTS. Well, no, not exactly. She was expecting me to meet her at Boston. But I--[struggling to give the situation dignity, but failing, and throwing himself, with self-convicted silliness, upon THE PORTER'S mercy.] The fact is, I thought I would surprise her by joining her here. THE PORTER (refusing to have any mercy). Oh! How did you expect to find her? MR. ROBERTS. Well--well--I don't know. I didn't consider. [He looks down the aisle in despair at the close-drawn curtains of the berths, and up at the dangling hats and bags and bonnets, and down at the chaos of boots of both sexes on the floor.] I don't know _how_ I expected to find her. [MR. ROBERTS'S countenance falls, and he visibly sinks so low in his own esteem and an imaginary public opinion that THE PORTER begins to have a little compassion.] THE PORTER. Dey's so many ladies on board _I_ couldn't find her. MR. ROBERTS. Oh, no, no, of course not. I didn't expect that. THE PORTER. Don't like to go routing 'em all up, you know. I wouldn't be allowed to. MR. ROBERTS. I don't ask it; that would be preposterous. THE PORTER. What sort of looking lady was she? MR. ROBERTS. Well, I don't know, really. Not very tall, rather slight, blue eyes. I--I don't know what you'd call her nose. And--stop! Oh yes, she had a child with her, a little boy. Yes! THE PORTER (thoughtfully looking down the aisle). Dey was three ladies had children. I didn't notice whether dey was boys or girls, or _what_ dey was. Didn't have anybody with her? MR. ROBERTS. No, no. Only the child. THE PORTER. Well, I don't know what you are going to do, sah. It won't be a great while now till morning, you know. Here comes the conductor. Maybe he'll know what to do. [MR. ROBERTS makes some futile, inarticulate attempts to prevent The PORTER from laying the case before THE CONDUCTOR, and then stands guiltily smiling, overwhelmed with the hopeless absurdity of his position.] THE CONDUCTOR (entering the car, and stopping before THE PORTER, and looking at MR. ROBERTS). Gentleman want a berth? THE PORTER (grinning). Well, no, sah. He's lookin' for his wife. THE CONDUCTOR (with suspicion). Is she aboard this car? MR. ROBERTS (striving to propitiate THE CONDUCTOR by a dastardly amiability). Oh, yes, yes. There's no mistake about the car--the Governor Marcy. She telegraphed the name just before you left Albany, so that I could find her at Boston in the morning. Ah! THE CONDUCTOR. At Boston. [Sternly.] Then what are you trying to find her at Worcester in the middle of the night for? MR. ROBERTS. Why--I--that is-- THE PORTER (taking compassion on MR. ROBERTS'S inability to continue). Says he wanted to surprise her. MR. ROBERTS. Ha--yes, exactly. A little caprice, you know.