Well, of course, it's nothing. What I want to know is just what
you get out of it indirectly? You get the handling of so much patronage, I
suppose? What is it worth to you, and how much is there?"
I spent the next five minutes in an eloquent attempt to explain the
difference between English and American politics. Mr. Bundercombe was
partly convinced, but more than ever sure that he had found his way into a
country of half-witted people. Eve, however, was much quicker at grasping
the situation.
"I think it's perfectly delightful, Paul!" she declared. "I have read no
end of stories of English electioneering, and they sound such fun! I want
to come down and help. I have tons of new dresses--and I can read up all
about politics going down on the train."
"That brings me," I went on, "to the real object of my visit. I want you
and your father--I want you all," I added heroically--"to come down with
me to Bedfordshire and help. You were coming anyway next week for a little
time, you know. I want to carry you off at once."
Mrs. Bundercombe, who had been only waiting for her opportunity, broke in
at this juncture.
"Young man," she said impressively; "Mr. Walmsley, before I consent to
attend one of your meetings or to associate myself in any way with your
cause, I must ask you one plain and simple question, and insist upon a
plain and simple answer: What are your views as to Woman Suffrage?"
"The views of my party," I answered, with futile diplomacy.
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