"I understand that it is not an easy thing for you to tell me that it seems best to you not to vote for me," Mr. Strathmore said kindly. "I appreciate your coming to me on an errand so hard for you."
Mr. Pewtap sighed eloquently.
"If circumstances," he interpolated eagerly, "if circumstances were different"—
"Of course," the other responded with a genial laugh. "As they are, however, it seems to you best to vote for Father Frontford, and you have a kindness for me that makes you come and tell me your reason. I'm glad you do me the justice to believe that I won't misunderstand."
"Oh, I was sure you wouldn't misunderstand. You see, Mrs. Frostwinch has been so good to my family. I have seven children, Mr. Strathmore, all under ten."
The eye of the host twinkled, but he was otherwise of admirable gravity.
"And my chance might be better if you hadn't so many?" he suggested.
"Oh, we never could have had so many if it hadn't been for Mrs. Frostwinch," Mr. Pewtap responded eagerly. "I mean, of course, that we couldn't have taken care of them all. She has for years given Mrs. Pewtap a little annual income,—little to her, I mean, of course; but it doesn't take much to be a great deal to us."
Mr. Strathmore picked up a paper-knife of cut silver and played with it a moment in silence, as if waiting for the other to go on.
"Do I understand," he said at length, "that Mrs. Frostwinch has something to do with your decision in regard to the election?"