They tried to “hoop” it, but found that it was too oval. William tried to wear it as a shield but it would not fit his arm. They tried to make a harp of it by nailing strands of wire across it, but gave up the attempt when William had cut his finger and Ginger had hammered his thumb three times.
William carried it about with him, his disappointment slightly assuaged by the pride of possession, but its size and shape were hampering to a boy of William’s active habits, so in the end he carefully hid it behind the door of the old barn which he and his friends generally made their headquarters, and then completely forgot it.
*****
The village was agog with the excitement of the election. The village did not have a Member of Parliament all to itself—it joined with the neighbouring country town—but one of the two candidates, Mr. Cheytor, the Conservative, lived in the village, so feeling ran high.
William’s father took no interest in politics, but William’s uncle did.
William’s uncle supported the Liberal candidate, Mr. Morrisse. He threw himself whole-heartedly into the cause. He distributed bills, he harangued complete strangers, he addressed imaginary audiences as he walked along the road, he frequently brought one hand down heavily upon the other with the mystic words: “Gentlemen, in the sacred cause of Liberalism——”
William was tremendously interested in him. He listened enraptured to his monologues, quite unabashed by his uncle’s irritable refusals to explain them to him. Politically the uncle took no interest in William. William had no vote.
William’s uncle was busily preparing to hold a meeting of canvassers for the cause of the great Mr. Morrisse in his dining-room. Mr. Morrisse, a tall, thin gentleman, for some obscure reason very proud of his name, who went through life saying plaintively, “double S E, please,” was not going to be there. William’s uncle was going to tell the canvassers the main features of the programme with which to dazzle the electors of the neighbourhood.
“I s’pose,” said William carelessly, “you don’t mind me comin’?”
“You suppose wrong then,” said William’s uncle. “I most emphatically mind your coming.”