During the delivery of this long speech Lucia eyed Phil with boldness and disfavor, but in obedience to her father she took Phil’s arm,--an act that so quickly improved the young man’s opinion of himself that he instantly felt at ease and got command of such natural graces as he possessed; he was even enabled to look down at the golden head by his shoulder and make some speeches bright enough to cheer Lucia’s face. “It mayn’t be so entirely dreadful, after all,” thought the girl; “I can introduce him to friends to whom I could afterward explain,--friends who are too good-hearted to make spiteful remarks afterward. Besides, I can blame father for it: all girls have fathers whose ways are queer in one way or another.” While acting upon this plan, and finding, to her great relief, that Phil could talk courteous nothings to new acquaintances, she suddenly found herself face to face with a man of uncertain age but faultless dress and manner, who said,-- “Mayn’t I be favored with an introduction? Your friend is being so heartily praised by your father that I am quite anxious to know him.” “Mr. Marge, Mr. Hayn,” said Lucia. Phil’s proffered hand was taken by what seemed to be a bit of languid machinery, although encircled at one end by a cuff and coat-sleeve and decorated with a seal-ring. Phil scanned with interest the face before him, for he had often heard Mr. Marge mentioned when the Tramlay family were at Haynton. His look was returned by one that might have been a stare had it possessed a single indication of interest, surprise, or curiosity. Mr. Marge had met young men before; he had been seeing new faces for twenty-five years, and one more or less could not rouse him from the composure which he had been acquiring during all that time. “Can you spare your friend a few moments?” said Mr. Marge to Lucia. “I would be glad to introduce him to some of the gentlemen.” “You are very kind,” murmured Lucia, who was dying--so she informed herself--to rejoin some of her girl friends and explain the awkward nature of the intrusion. Marge offered Phil his arm, a courtesy the young man did not understand, so he took Phil’s instead, and presented the youth to several gentlemen as an old friend of the family. Soon, however, Marge led Phil into a tiny room at the rear of the hall,--a room nominally the library, the books consisting of a dictionary and a Bible, the greater part of the shelf-space being occupied by pipes, tobacco-boxes, cigar-cases, ash-receivers, and other appurtenances of the vice and comfort of smoking. Placing Phil in a great easy-chair, the back of which hid him from the company, Marge took a cigarette from his own case, which he afterward passed to Phil. “No small vices,” said he, as Phil declined. “Just as well off, I suppose. As for me,”--here Mr. Marge struck a match,--“I’ve (puff) been acquainted with the weed so long that (puff) I can’t very well snub it when I would.”