“Lord Shelmerdine, what is this one hears about your son standing as a Rag?”
No; it was not exactly kind of Caledonia’s daughter. The pause was awkward, particularly as Mr. Everard Vandeleur was seated on the right of his hostess.
“I have no need to say that I dissociate myself entirely from this ill-considered action,” said S. of P. at length. “Beyond that I say nothing.”
“But you must say something, Shelmerdine,” thought the Front Bench, of which Two were present in addition to Mr. Everard Vandeleur. “It will create a most unhappy impression in the country.”
“I can only attribute it to a mental aberration,” said S. of P.
Mr. Everard Vandeleur shook his Jesuitical gray curls.
“Shelmerdine, my dear fellow,” he said in tones vibrant with emotion, “I would rather have lost five seats in the country than this should have occurred.”
“I had rather you had done so, Vandeleur, than that this should have taken place.”
“Can you impose no check?” said Mr. Vandeleur. “Can you not refuse supply?”
“Unfortunately, no. The young scoundrel has a private income. But I hold his wife responsible for this.”