"See you later, Mr.
Harrison!"
Mr. Harrison nodded a little gloomily and we glided off. Eve squeezed my
hand under the rug.
"Isn't dad a dear!" she murmured in my ear.
Eve was one of the first to congratulate me when, late that night, the
results came in and I found that by a majority of twenty-seven votes I had
been elected the member for the division.
"Aren't you glad now, Paul, dear, that we brought father down to keep him
out of mischief?" she whispered.
Mr. Bundercombe himself held out his hand.
"Paul," he said, "I congratulate you, my boy! I was on the other side; but
I can take a licking with the best of them. Congratulate you heartily!"
He held out his hand and gripped mine. Once more he winked.
CHAPTER XII--THE EMANCIPATION OF LOUIS
At about half past ten the following morning I turned into Prince's
Gardens, to find a four-wheel cab drawn up outside the door of Mr.
Bundercombe's house. On the roof was a dressing case made of some sort of
compressed cane and covered with linen. Accompanying it was a black tin
box, on which was painted, in white letters: "Hannah Bundercombe,
President W.S.F." Standing by the door was a footman with an article in
his hand that I believe is called a grip, which, in the present instance,
I imagine took the place of a dressing case.
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