"
"Say, that's interesting!" Mr. Bundercombe declared, putting down his hat,
"I didn't know you were by way of being a professional man, though."
"I'm not," I replied. "You wouldn't call politics a profession exactly."
Mr. Bundercombe was more puzzled than ever. His hand caressed his chin in
familiar fashion.
"Well, it's one way of making a living, isn't it?" he asked. "We call it a
profession on our side."
"It isn't a way of making a living at all!" I assured him. "It costs one a
great deal more than can be made out of it."
Mr. Bundercombe stopped scratching his chin.
Mrs. Bundercombe sat down opposite me and I was perfectly certain that she
would presently have a few remarks to offer. Eve was looking delightfully
interested.
"Say, I'm not quite sure I follow you," Mr. Bundercombe observed. "I am
with you all right when you say that the direct pecuniary payment for
being in Parliament doesn't amount to anything; but what's your pull
worth, eh?"
"My what?" I inquired.
"Dash it all!" Mr. Bundercombe continued a little testily. "I only want to
get at the common sense of the matter. You are thinking of trying for a
seat in Parliament, and you say the four hundred a year you get for it is
nothing.
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