"I needn't sit for the borough unless I please, I suppose," pleaded Phineas.
"Well, no;—at least I don't know," said Ruddles. "It would be throwing us over a good deal, and I'm sure you are not the gentleman to do that. And then, Mr. Finn, don't you see that though you have been knocked about a little lately—"
"By George, he has,—most cruel," said Troddles.
"You'll miss the House if you give it up; you will, after a bit, Mr. Finn. You've got to come round again, Mr. Finn,—if I may be so bold as to say so, and you shouldn't put yourself out of the way of coming round comfortably."
Phineas knew that there was wisdom in the words of Mr. Ruddles, and consented. Though at this moment he was low in heart, disgusted with the world, and sick of humanity,—though every joint in his body was still sore from the rack on which he had been stretched, yet he knew that it would not be so with him always. As others recovered so would he, and it might be that he would live to "miss the House," should he now refuse the offer made to him. He accepted the offer, but he did so with a positive assurance that no consideration should at present take him to Tankerville.
"We ain't going to charge you, not one penny," said Mr. Gadmire, with enthusiasm.
"I feel all that I owe to the borough," said Phineas, "and to the warm friends there who have espoused my cause; but I am not in a condition at present, either of mind or body, to put myself forward anywhere in public. I have suffered a great deal."
"Most cruel!" said Troddles.
"And am quite willing to confess that I am therefore unfit in my present position to serve the borough."
"We can't admit that," said Gadmire, raising his left hand.