"Combine," she repeated. "Preach the doctrine of combination; and teach us the purposes for which we ought to combine."
The advice was just what the cobbler had given.
"Oh, Mr. Coppin"—her voice was as winning as her eyes were kind and full of interest—"you are clever; you are persevering; you are brave; you have so splendid a voice; you have such a natural gift of oratory, that you ought to become—you must become—one of the leaders of the people."
Pride fell prone, like Dagon—before these words. Dick succumbed to the gracious influence of a charming woman.
"Tell me," he said, reddening, because it is humiliating to seek help of a girl, "tell me what I am to do."
"You are ambitious, are you not?"
"Yes," he replied coldly, "I am ambitious. I don't tell them outside," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the Advanced Club, "but I mean to get into the 'Ouse—I mean the House." One of his little troubles was the correction of certain peculiarities of speech common among his class. It was his cousin who first directed his attention to this point.
"Yes: there is no reason why you should not get into the House," said Angela. "But it would be a thousand pities if you should get in yet."
"Why should I wait, if they will elect me?"
"Because, Mr. Coppin, you must not try to lead the people till you know whither you would lead them: because you must not pretend to represent the people till you have learned their condition and their wants; because you must not presume to offer yourself till you are prepared with a programme."