Thursday.—"I really can't do it," said Maclure. "Oh, you must," said Chaplin; "hard work, I know, but put on a spurt and there you are."
"Wish I was there," said Maclure, mopping his forehead. "All very well for slim young thing like you; but seventeen stun isn't the form for a short spin, especially with these confounded steps." Scene—passage by Cloak-room into House of Commons; time 5·19 P.M.; bell ringing furiously; Division imminent; Penrose Fitzgerald with jacket shorter than ever, trousers turned up with a grace that maddens with envy. Bobby Spencer and Lewisham, on watch at top of staircase.
"Come along!" he shouts; "dividing on First Clause of Compensation Bill; Sage of Queen Anne's Gate sprung a mine on us; got all their men here; ours down at Ascot; wouldn't be you for a quarter's salary, Chaplin. Hurry up! hurry up! Put your best leg forward, Maclure!"
"That's all very well," said Maclure, testily; "but which is my best leg?"
On Outpost Duty.
The two heavy-weights pounded gallantly along; been to Ascot; thought they'd be back in plenty of time for Division; and here's Division-bell at its last shake. Hartington come up with them; striding ahead; wins easily; Chaplin reaches door of House just as it is closing; with tremendous effort, Maclure pulls himself together; throws himself on doorway; nothing could stand rush like that; door bursts open; Maclure and Compensation Bill saved. A very close shave. When Division taken, 228 vote for Government, 224 against; majority Four—the four who raced up the staircase hot from Ascot.
Crowded House in wild excitement. Sage of Queen Anne's Gate consumed in bitterness of spirit. "If we'd divided half an hour ago we should have had majority of 25; a quarter of an hour ago, ten minutes ago, five minutes ago, sixty seconds earlier, we'd have won. But those Irish Shylocks must have their pound of verbosity. Couldn't resist temptation of putting an extra question, even for certainty of defeating Government. When they're once started on subject of shadowing, they go off by the hour."
"Well, never mind," said Gorst; "you know it isn't the first time in history that men have sacrificed the substance for the shadow."
Business done.—The Government's—very nearly.