The next morning Peter was early in the breakfast room. Only Lady Mary was there. She was looking for weather at the window.

"Let me get you some breakfast," said Peter, after they had greeted.

"Not for the world," she answered, lifting lids at a side table. "I love breakfast. It\'s the only time when food seems to matter. I wouldn\'t think of letting anybody choose my breakfast."

"There, at any rate, we agree," said Peter.

"Do you like breakfast, too?"

"It\'s an Oxford habit."

"Then you haven\'t given up Oxford altogether?" said Lady Mary, speaking as one who had heard something.

"Do you know all about me, like everybody else?"

Peter groaned.

"Of course. You don\'t know how famous you are. Everybody knows you were sent down from Gamaliel for being a Socialist."

"I am not a Socialist," Peter hotly protested.

Lady Mary\'s eyes were full of mischief: "You must have been sent down for being something."

"I\'m nothing at all," said Peter.

"Are you quite sure?"

[Pg 195]

"The silliest person alive is more than a label."

Peter cursed himself. He had again delivered an apothegm. Why must he always be so heavily serious? Lady Mary was openly smiling.

"I\'m afraid we\'re all going to be very silly at Highbury during the next few days. We\'ve simply got to label ourselves for Antony\'s sake."

"Tories," said Peter, trying to be nice, "are exceptions."

"You mean that Tories don\'t count?"

"I really don\'t mean that," said Peter, genuinely grieved.

"Then I\'m afraid you don\'t mean anything at all."

Lady Mary was clearly amused. Peter miserably looked at her, looked at his plate, and then heard himself say:

"Why am I such a solemn ass?"

"Who says that?"

"I say it myself," said Peter.

Lady Mary looked swiftly at his ingenuous face, in which exaggerated abasement struggled with a hope that she would reassure him. Her amusement was curiously shot with affection.

"You oughtn\'t to have told me this so soon," she said, smiling at him in the friendliest way. "You see I don\'t yet know you well enough to contradict you. It would be rude."

"Let me get you another sausage," said Peter, feeling a little better.

As he brought her the food he saw her more[Pg 196] familiarly. Last night in her amazing dress she had seemed fragile and elaborate—all woman and social creature. But this morning he saw just a friendly girl, plainly suited in brown tweed, accessible and soothing. Now he really saw what she was like. He discreetly admired her hair and expressive eyes, her slender features and delicate complexion. She spoke on a clear note, level and quiet, suggesting that her ideas and feelings were regular and securely in leash. The music of her voice was vibrant but very sure. It declared a perfect balance, the voice of a woman who would not suffer to appear in any of her personal tones or gestures anything which could not beautifully be expressed.

At this point Marbury came into the room. Peter was bringing Lady Mary her sausage with the grave intentness of someone specially elected.

"Hullo, Mary. Hullo, Peter. You seem to be eating well."

"Yes," said Lady Mary. "This is my third sausage."

"What does Peter say?"

"I\'ve at last met someone who takes breakfast seriously."

"I take everything seriously," said Peter, returning into gloom.

"You needn\'t be so unhappy about it," said Marbury. "One good thing about an election is that it makes one realise the importance of being[Pg 197] earnest. Even the local paper becomes an immensely serious thing."

Marbury settled to his breakfast, shook out the Highbury Gazette, and was absorbed. Soon he was smiling.

"What is it, Tony?" asked Lady Mary, eating an apple.

"Listen to this," said Marbury. "It\'s one of Jordan\'s speeches."

"Who\'s Jordan?" Peter interrupted.

"My opponent," said Marbury. "He seems to be dangerous. He knows how to appeal to the people. He has just bought a house and some acres in the constituency, and he tells the Yorkshiremen that he\'s a farmer, with a stake in the county.

"\'Gentlemen,\' he says, according to this report, \'you may perhaps be inclined to ask what this Mr. Jordan, a town-bred man and a stranger, knows about the land and the people on the land. Well, gentlemen, I\'m a farmer myself—in a small way. (Cheers.) I have a hundred or so acres of good Yorkshire soil. (Cheers.) I have twenty head of cattle, some sheep and poultry, and only this morning I was admiring three fine stacks of hay built by the honest labour of your fellow townsmen. (Loud Cheers.) Gentlemen, I have come to live among you. (A great outburst of cheering, many of the audience rising and waving their hats.)\'"

[Pg 198]

"Is this what you call politics from within?" Peter scornfully interrupted.

"Now, Peter, don\'t despise the amusements of the people. They like to be governed in this way. I shall have to see the bailiff."

"I\'m passing the home-farm," said Lady Mary. "I\'ll send him to you."

When she had gone, Marbury looked with amusement at Peter, chafing up and down the hearth-rug.

"Peter," he said, "compose yourself. The others will be coming down to breakfast."

"Why do you want the bailiff?" Peter curtly inquired.

"I\'m thinking out a little light banter for Jordan. I want to know whether we can do better than twenty head of cattle and three fine stacks of hay."

"I suggest," said Peter, massively sarcastic, "that you make out a list of your hens and pigs and send it round the constituency."

Marbury considered this. "That, Peter, is an idea. I\'ll talk it over with the agent."

Peter flung up his hands in the gesture Marbury loved in him and always knew how to provoke.

"It\'s all damn nonsense," said Peter shortly.

"Jordan calls it democracy."

"Politics!" Peter exclaimed, with his nose in the air.

"I\'ve told you before, Peter, not to despise politics. It\'s ignorant. We\'ll go into the garden."

[Pg 199]

They walked on the terrace and found Haversham in the portable hut where he usually spent the day. He had been ordered by the doctors to live out of doors. Here he wrote letters, interviewed his tenants, and ordered the affairs of his estate and fortune. He was seldom alone, unless he wished it, for his friends treasured every moment they were able to spend with him.

Peter and Marbury paused at the open side of the hut, turned, as always, towards the sun. Marbury, before they reached Lord Haversham, had time to tell Peter that his uncle did not like his health to be talked about.

"What is the programme?" Haversham asked as they came up.

"Eight meetings to-day, Uncle."

Haversham tapped the paper he was holding:

"You\'ve seen Jordan\'s latest?"

"We were talking about it," said Marbury.

"What are you going to do?" asked Haversham.

"Peter suggests we should post the constituency with a schedule of your stock on the home-farm."

Peter glowered at Marbury, but a moment after felt amiably foolish under Haversham\'s kind inspection.

"You don\'t expect me to believe that, Tony," said Haversham. "But, seriously, don\'t let your agent do anything of the kind. He\'ll probably suggest it."

"I wonder."

[Pg 200]

"It wouldn\'t do. If you were a Radical like Jordan you could tell them you owned the whole constituency. In a Radical it would show good faith and a likeliness to look after local interests. But in a Tory it is bribery and coercion. Your leaflet would be published in the London Radical papers—Another Instance of Tory Intimidation."

"You see, Peter," said Marbury, "we shall have to be tactful."

"Why notice the speech at all?" asked Peter.

"Because we are electioneering," said Marbury. "We\'re not here for fun. My enemy has sent out a leaflet: \'Vote for Jordan, the farmer, and the farmer\'s friend\'—the implication, of course, being that I am neither a farmer nor a farmer\'s friend. It\'s much more important in an agricultural constituency to destroy this delicate suggestion than to prove that there is an absolute need for a Navy Bill next session of over sixty millions."

"Yes," objected Peter, "but the whole thing is so ridiculous."

Haversham sighed: "That\'s what makes public life so hard. It is especially hard for our people. There\'s nothing we dread more than losing touch with our sense of humour. But these sacrifices are necessary. These sixty millions have to be raise............