"Who's Jordan?" Peter interrupted.
"My opponent," said Marbury. "He seems to be dangerous. He knows how to appeal to the people. He has just bought a house and some acres in the constituency, and he tells the Yorkshiremen that he's a farmer, with a stake in the county.
"'Gentlemen,' he says, according to this report, 'you may perhaps be inclined to ask what this Mr. Jordan, a town-bred man and a stranger, knows about the land and the people on the land. Well, gentlemen, I'm a farmer myself—in a small way. (Cheers.) I have a hundred or so acres of good Yorkshire soil. (Cheers.) I have twenty head of cattle, some sheep and poultry, and only this morning I was admiring three fine stacks of hay built by the honest labour of your fellow townsmen. (Loud Cheers.) Gentlemen, I have come to live among you. (A great outburst of cheering, many of the audience rising and waving their hats.)'"
"Is this what you call politics from within?" Peter scornfully interrupted.
"Now, Peter, don't despise the amusements of the people. They like to be governed in this way. I shall have to see the bailiff."
"I'm passing the home-farm," said Lady Mary. "I'll send him to you."
When she had gone, Marbury looked with amusement at Peter, chafing up and down the hearth-rug.
"Peter," he said, "compose yourself. The others will be coming down to breakfast."
"Why do you want the bailiff?" Peter curtly inquired.