“How am I to set about this, Twining? You are aware that up to this I have had no relations with politics or parties.”
“Nothing easier, my Lord; always easy for a peer,—proxy often of great consequence. Write to the Premier,—hint that you are well disposed to adopt his views,—due maintenance of all the glorious privileges of our Constitution, with progressive improvement,—great fun, capital fun! all the landmarks firm and fixed, and as much of your neighbor's farm as possible. Or if you don't like to do this, set Davenport Dunn at them; he is your Lordship's Irish agent,—at least, he was the late Viscount's,—he 'll do it,—none better, none so well!”
“That might be the best way,” said Beecher, musing.
“He'll be charmed—delighted—overjoyed at this proof of your Lordship's confidence. He 'll go to work at once, and before your Lordship begins to receive, or go out, your amiable and most highly gifted father-in-law may be Income-tax Collector in Cochin-China.”
“Now, there's only one thing more, Twining, which is, to induce Davis to agree to this. He likes Europe,—likes the life of England and the Continent.”
“Certain he does,—quite sure of it; no man more calculated to appreciate society or adorn it. Capital fun!”
“Do you think,” resumed Beecher, “that you could just throw out a hint—a slight suggestion—to see how he'd take it?”
“Come much better from your Lordship.”
“Well, I don't know—that is, I half suspect—”
“Far better, infinitely better, my Lord; your own tact, your Lordship's good taste—Oh dear me, one o'clock already, and I have an appointment!” And with the most profuse apologies for a hurried departure, and as many excuses to be conveyed to her Ladyship, Mr. Twining disappeared.