"Take a leetle more time—that is all, my dear boy; slow and sure, you know;" so the countess again patted his arm and went away to bed.
"Old fool!" muttered Frank to himself, as he returned to the room where the men were still standing. He was right in this: she was an old fool, or she would have seen that there was no chance whatever that her nephew and Miss Dunstable should become man and wife.
"Well Frank," said the Honourable John; "so you're after the heiress already."
"He won't give any of us a chance," said the Honourable George. "If he goes on in that way she'll be Mrs Gresham before a month is over. But, Frank, what will she say of your manner of looking for Barchester votes?"
"Mr Gresham is certainly an excellent hand at canvassing," said Mr Nearthewinde; "only a little too open in his manner of proceeding."
"I got that chorister for you at any rate," said Frank. "And you would never have had him without me."
"I don't think half so much of the chorister's vote as that of Miss Dunstable," said the Honourable George: "that's the interest that is really worth looking after."
"But, surely," said Mr Moffat, "Miss Dunstable has no property in Barchester?" Poor man! his heart was so intent on his election that he had not a moment to devote to the claims of love.