"I rely upon you to help me canvass," I told him. "A lot is done by personal persuasion."
"Canvass!" Mr. Bundercombe repeated reflectively. "Say, just what do you mean by that?"
"It is very simple," I assured him. "You go and talk to the farmers and voters generally, and put a few plain issues before them—we'll post you up all right as to what to say. Then you wind up by asking for their votes and interest on my behalf."
"I do that—do I?" Mr. Bundercombe murmured. "Talk to them in a plain, straightforward way, eh?"
"That's it," I agreed. "A man with sound common sense like yourself could do me a lot of good."
Mr. Bundercombe was thoughtful, I am convinced that at that moment the germs of certain ideas which bore fruit a little later on were born in his mind. I saw him blink several times as he gazed up at the ceiling. I saw a faint smile gradually expand over his face. A premonition of trouble, even at that moment, forced itself on me.
"You'll have to be careful, you know," I explained, a little apprehensively. "You'll have to keep friends with the fellows all the time. They wouldn't appreciate practical jokes down there and the law as to bribery and corruption is very strict."
Mr. Bundercombe nodded solemnly.
"If I take the job on," he said, "you can trust me. It seems as though there might be something in it."
"You'll come down with me, then," I begged, "both of you? Come this afternoon! The dressmakers can follow you, Eve. It isn't far—an hour in the train and twenty minutes in the motor. We may have to picnic a little just to start with, but I know that the most important of the servants are there, ready and waiting."