Thereupon, McArdle, taking a pipe from his pocket and knocking it absent-mindedly on the seat of the chair, dryly remarked: "Now that we can hear ourselves think, let's have it all over again. Who air ye, and why air ye here?" Being told a second time that this was his brother-in-law, a miner from Colorado, he shook hands all over again, and accepted Mart's cigar with careful fingers, as if fearing to drop and break the precious thing. Bertha said: "I think we'd better be going, Captain. Our carriage is outside." "Gracious Peter," cried Mrs. McArdle, "I forgot all about it! Is he by the day or by the hour?" Mart answered, with an amused smile. "Well, now, I don't know. I think by the hour." "Ye're makin' a big bluff, Mart. We're properly impressed," said his sister. "Go pay him off, and save the money." McArdle put in a query. "You must have a good thing out there?" "'Tis enough to pay me carriage hire," answered Mart. And his tone satisfied McArdle, who, with reflective eye on Bertha, puffed away at his cigar, while Mart gave his promise to call again. "I'll come over and get you all, and take you to the theatre in me auto-car," he said, as he rose. "But we must be going now." Fan was beginning to perceive in him more and more of the man of power and substance, and her manner changed. "Ye were always the smartest of the lot of us, Mart." "No, I was not. Charles was the bright boy." "So he was, but he was lazy. That was why he took up with play-acting--'tis an easy job." "Even that is too much work for him," remarked McArdle. "I reckon that's right," laughed Mart, as he turned towards the door. "Come again, if ye find time," called Fan, as they went down the steps. McArdle, with his cigar in his hand, waved it in a sign of parting. And so their visit to the McArdles closed. Mart turned to his silent and thoughtful wife, and said, with a great deal of meaning in his voice: "Well, now, what do you think of that for a fine litter of pups?" "They seem hearty." "They do. 'Tis on such that the future of the ray-public rests." And then he added: "Sure, Bertie, it gripped me heart to see the mother's old chair!" CHAPTER XVI A DINNER AND A PLAY Lucius seemed to know the city very well, and to have a list of its principal citizens in his memory. He knew the best places to shop and the selectest places to eat, and Bertha soon came to ask his advice about other and more intimate affairs. She showed him Mrs. Brent's card, and explained that they were going out there to dinner. "I know the locality," he said, much impressed, "and I think I know the house. It's likely to be quietly swell, and you'd better wear your best gown." "The black dress," said Haney, who was a deeply concerned witness. "I like that." Lucius was respectful, but firm. "You are very well in that, Mrs. Haney. But if I were you I'd have a new gown; you'll need it. I know just the saleslady to fit you out."