Cheerful Canvasser: “Thank you. However, you’ll tell him?”
“Then does she write ‘at sea,’ on her card?” I asked.
“More likely, ‘carriage on day of election,’” replied Miss Kate bitterly. “At one election Polly was sent to fetch ninety people who were all at sea—except those who were dead!”
We were passing an oil-shop at the moment, and Miss Kate suddenly began to laugh. “If you can look through that door without attracting attention,” she said, “just take a good squint at Mr. Albert Vickers, and I’ll tell you what happened there this morning.”
Mr. Albert Vickers, who had a pale face and the eye of a cod—a cod, moreover, of whom its parents always boastfully foretold that it would “do something yet”—was leaning against his counter in his shirt-sleeves and a hat, negligently worn. His trousers were not well braced and he wore thin, brown boots.
“What happened?” I asked as we went along.
“Mrs. Henry went in quite airily,” said Miss Kate, “and began—‘Oh, I was just canvassing for the Conservative member,’ etc. Albert said, ‘Well, I don’t think I shall give me vote at all this year. I’m inclined to think we’d do better to be without ’em altogether and let the town manage itself a bit.’ ‘Oh, but we can’t do that, you know!’ said Mrs. Henry, ‘I dare say there are faults on both sides; but the Conservatives as a body——’ Albert went on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘There’s none of ’em straight to the working man. Now, ’ow d’you make this out? I’m told there’s sixty-two councillors as sits down to champagne and shilling cigars four days out of the week——’ ‘But Mr. Ashfield never touches champagne,’ burst out Mrs. Henry, ‘and he’s very particular about all those things.’ ‘I don’t say he isn’t,’ grumbled Albert. ‘I don’t know ’im. But from what I can ’ear I think it very likely that I shan’t vote at all.’”
“And what do you suppose she put him down as?” I asked.
“Oh, Liberal, of course,” said Miss Kate, with innocent surprise.