"Yes, that's important, no doubt. But come, Reddypalm, such an old friend of Sir Roger as you are, a man he speaks of as one of his intimate friends, I wonder how you can hesitate about it? Now with another man, I should think that he wanted to be paid for voting—"
"Oh, Mr Romer!—fie—fie—fie!"
"I know it's not the case with you. It would be an insult to offer you money, even if money were going. I should not mention this, only as money is not going, neither on our side nor on the other, no harm can be done."
"Mr Romer, if you speak of such a thing, you'll hurt me. I know the value of an Englishman's franchise too well to wish to sell it. I would not demean myself so low; no, not though five-and-twenty pound a vote was going, as there was in the good old times—and that's not so long ago neither."
"I am sure you wouldn't, Reddypalm; I'm sure you wouldn't. But an honest man like you should stick to old friends. Now, tell me," and putting his arm through Reddypalm's, he walked with him into the passage of his own house; "Now, tell me—is there anything wrong? It's between friends, you know. Is there anything wrong?"
"I wouldn't sell my vote for untold gold," said Reddypalm, who was perhaps aware that untold gold would hardly be offered to him for it.
"I am sure you would not," said Mr Romer.
"But," said Reddypalm, "a man likes to be paid his little bill."
"Surely, surely," said the barrister.
"And I did say two years since, when your friend Mr Closerstil brought a friend of his down to stand here—it wasn't Sir Roger then—but when he brought a friend of his down, and when I drew two or three hogsheads of ale on their side, and when my bill was questioned and only half-settled, I did say that I wouldn't interfere with no election no more. And no more I will, Mr Romer—unless it be to give a quiet vote for the nobleman under whom I and mine always lived respectable."