"Oh, as you please," said the Colonel, coldly, a little hurt at this evidence of lack of confidence on part of his new pal.
So Don't-Keir Hardie, moving Amendment to Address, orated in his own clothes, whilst Howard Vincent sat above Gangway near him, and punctuated his speech with persistent cry of "Hear! hear!" A notable figure his friend made. Evidently in the ranks of the Unemployed in the Don't-Keir Hardie household are the comb and brush. Through a mass of black hair, matted on head and chin, Don't-Keir looked on House of Commons. The coat Howard Vincent hankered after was rather a jacket, cut short, so as to hide little of the effulgence of his murky mustard-hued trowsers. Pockets alike of trowsers and jacket were bulging with letters and papers. You could see when he stood up to speak that he had just posted a letter to himself, sticking it in his waistcoat pocket, which only half concealed its surface.
"I don't exactly know how it is," said Gorst, curiously regarding Don't-Keir Hardie, and his eruption of correspondence, "but our friend, for whom I shall certainly vote, somehow reminds me of Mrs. Jellaby. The same earnestness of vague purpose, the same self-devotion to public questions, and the same large correspondence. I wouldn't be surprised, if you had the opportunity of examining our friend's hands, if you found them rather inked than horny. Still, I shall vote for him, and say something, if not exactly in his favour, at least a few words that will puzzle our fellows and rile the Bench opposite."
Business done.—Don't-Keir Hardie moved Amendment to Address, calling upon Parliament to provide for Unemployed; negatived by 276 votes against 109.
Wednesday.—"It was a good thing to win the Inverness Burghs," said the Squire of Malwood just now, reflectively stroking his chin. "But it was not all gain. Finlay worth a good deal to us. In moments of profoundest depression he acted upon Mr. G. with remarkable tonic effect. Often when we sat on other side, things going bad, and Mr. G. has seemed a little dull, he has accidentally turned round, and caught sight of Finlay, sitting, as you will remember he did, just behind us. In a moment our revered Chief was another man. His eye flashed, colour came back to his face, every nerve vibrated: Mr. G. was himself again. On the whole, I fancy Finlay was worth more to us than the two votes on a Division, for which we have bartered him."
Much in what the Squire says. It turned out this afternoon he did not mourn as one who has no hope, Finlay gone, but Jesse Collings remains. Has in degree, the same physical and mental effect on Mr. G. that Finlay had. This afternoon Mr. G. sitting on Treasury Bench, apparently waiting for Division. Debate on Jesse Collings's Amendment to Address flickering out. Henry Fowler, in vigorous speech, had replied for Government. Edward Stanhope said a few words; nothing to be done but to take Division. Whilst Stanhope speaking, Mr. G. turned round to see how forces were mustered. Accidentally his eye fell on benevolent visage of Jesse Collings, just then lit up with smile of genial satisfaction at compliment paid him by personal reference in Stanhope's speech. In an instant Mr. G.'s visage and attitude altered. The spell had worked, and to surprise of House he followed Stanhope, falling straightway upon the unsuspecting Jesse, treating him, as Grandolph, an amused and interested spectator of the scene, observed, "with all the vigorous familiarity Pantaloon is accustomed to meet with at Christmastide."
THE GRAND OLD MARIONETTE; OR, THE HOME-RULE DANCE.
Business done.—Mr. G. "goes for" Jesse Collings.