"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.