Part 28 (1/2)

”Change my what?” I asked him.

”Change your platform--or whatever you call it! You're on the wrong horse, Paul, my boy. Even your own agent admits it--though I never mentioned your name at first or told him who I was. All the people round here with votes are farmers, agricultural laborers and small shopkeepers. Your platform's of no use to them.”

”Well, that's what we've got to find out!” I protested. ”Personally, I am convinced that it is.”

”Now look here!” Mr. Bundercombe argued; ”these chaps, though they seem stupid enough, are all out for themselves. They want to vote for what's going to make life easier for them. What's the good of sticking it into 'em about the Empire! Between you and me I don't think they care a fig for it. Then all this talk about military service----Gee! They ain't big enough for it! Disestablishment too--what do they care about that! You let me write your address for you. Promise 'em a land bill. Promise them the food on their tables at a bit less. Stick something in about a reduction in the price of beer. I've seen the other chap's address and it's a corker! Mostly lies, but thundering good ones. You let me touch yours up a bit.”

”Where have you been?” I asked, a strange misgiving stealing into my mind.

”Have you been talking to Mr. Ansell like this?”

”Ansell? No! Who's he?” Mr. Bundercombe inquired.

”My agent.”

Mr. Bundercombe shook his head.

”Chap I palled up with was called Harrison.”

I groaned.

”You've been to the other fellow's agent,” I told him; ”the agent for the Radical candidate.”

Mr. Bundercombe whistled.

”You don't say!” he murmured. ”Well, I'll tell you what it is, Paul, there are no flies on that chap! He's a real nippy little worker--that's what he is! If you take my advice,” he went on persuasively, ”you'll swap. We'll make it worth his while to come over. I've seen your Mr. Ansell--if that's his name. I saw the name on a bra.s.s plate and I saw him come out of his office--stiff, starched sort of chap, with a thin face and gray side whiskers!”

”That's the man,” I admitted. ”He and his father before him, and his grandfather, have been solicitors to my people for I don't know how many years!”

”He looked it!” Mr. Bundercombe declared. ”A withered old skunk, if ever there was one! You want a live man to see you through this, Paul. You let me go down and sound Harrison this afternoon. No reason that I can see why we shouldn't use this fellow's address, too, if we can make terms with him.”

”Look here!” I said. ”Politics over on this side don't admit of such violent changes. My address is in the printer's hands and I've got to stick to it; and Ansell will have to be my agent whatever happens. It isn't all talk that wins these elections. The Walmsleys are well known in the county and we've done a bit for the country during the last hundred years. This other fellow--Horrocks, his name is--has never been near the place before. I grant you he's going to promise a lot of very interesting things, but that's been going on just a little too long. The people have had enough of that sort of thing. I think you'll find they'll put more trust in the little we can promise than in that rigmarole of Harrison's.”

Mr. Bundercombe shook his head doubtfully.

”Well,” he sighed, ”I'm only on the outside edge of this thing yet. I must give it another morning.”

We had a pleasant luncheon party, at which Mr. Bundercombe was introduced to some of my supporters, with whom--as he usually did with every one--he soon made himself popular. Eve and I then made our first little effort at canva.s.sing. Eve's methods differed from her father's.

”I am so sorry,” she said as she shook hands with a very influential but very doubtful voter of the farmer cla.s.s, ”but I don't know anything about English politics; so I can't talk to you about it as I'd like to. But you know I am going to marry Mr. Walmsley and come to live here, and it would be so nice to feel that all my friends had voted for him. If you have a few minutes to spare, Mr. Brown, would you please tell me just where you don't agree with Paul? I should so much like to hear, because he tells me that if once you were on his side he would feel almost comfortable.”

Mr. Brown, who had always met my advances with a grim taciturnity that made conversation exceedingly difficult, proceeded to dissertate upon one or two of the vexed questions of the day. I ventured to put in a few words now and then, and after a time he invited us in to tea. When we left he was more gracious than I had ever known him to be.

”And you must vote for Mr. Walmsley!” Eve declared at the end of her little speech of thanks, ”because I want so much to have you come and take tea with me on the Terrace at the House of Commons--and I can't unless Paul is a member, can I?”

”Bribery and corruption!” Mr. Brown laughed. ”However, we'll see.

Certainly I have been very much pleased to hear Mr. Walmsley's views upon several matters. When did you say the village meeting was, Mr. Walmsley?”

”Thursday night,” I replied.