He was followed
by a little crowd of children and sympathizing men, who cheered him all
the time.
At a little distance away, on the other side of a red flag, Henry Jonas,
the large farmer of the district, and the speaker on whom my opponent
chiefly relied, was seated upon a similar machine in a similar state of
undress. It was apparent, however, even to us, that Mr. Bundercombe's
progress was at least twice as rapid as his opponent's.
"What on earth is it all about?" I exclaimed, absolutely bewildered.
Eve, who was standing by my side, clasped her hands round my arm.
"It seems to me," she murmured sweetly, "as if dad were trying his reaping
machine against some one else's."
I looked at her demure little smile and I looked at the field in which I
recognized very many of my staunchest opponents. Then I looked at the
marquee. The table there must have been set for at least a hundred people.
Suddenly I received a shock. Seated underneath the hedge, hatless and
coatless, with his hair in picturesque disorder, was Mr. Jonas' cousin,
also a violent opponent of my politics, and a nonconformist. He had a huge
tumbler by his side, which--seeing me--he raised to his lips.
"Good old Walmsley!" he shouted out.
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