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.
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