before. You laughed at it yourself."

McIlheny: "I did, sor."

Roberts, basely truckling to him: "It was certainly a ludicrous
position."

Campbell: "And when we explained it, it amused your good lady too. She
laughed as much as yourself--"

McIlheny: "She did, sor. Ye're right. Sure it would make a cow laugh.
Well, gintlemen, ye must excuse me. Mrs. McIlheny says I mustn't stop
for the next thrain, and I'll have to ask you to join me in that glass
of wine some other toime."

Campbell: "Oh, it's all right, Mr. McIlheny. You've only got about
half a minute." He glances at the clock, and McIlheny runs out,
profusely waving his hand in adieu.

Roberts, taking out his handkerchief and wiping his forehead: "Well,
thank Heaven! we're rid of him at last."

Campbell: "I'm not so sure of that. He'll probably miss the train. You
may be sure Mrs. McIlheny is waiting for him outside of it, and then
we shall have them both on our hands indefinitely. We shall have to
explain and explain. Fiction has entirely failed us, and I feel that
the truth is giving way under our feet. I'll tell you what, Roberts!"

Roberts, in despair: "What?"