Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/11

Rh "I expect you've enjoyed it," said Miss Lyster, also moving towards the fire.

"Well, when you're in it there's a certain excitement in wondering how you're going to come out of it! But one might say that, of course, of the infernal regions."

"Not quite," said Mary Lyster, smiling demurely.

"Polly! you are a Tory. Everybody else's hell has moved—but yours! Thank you, mother," as Lady Tranmore gave him tea. Then, stretching out his great frame in lazy satisfaction, he turned his brown eyes from one lady to the other. "I say, mother, I haven't seen anything as good-looking as you—or Polly there, if she'll forgive me—for weeks."

"Hold your tongue, goose!" said his mother, as she replenished the teapot.

"What—there were no pretty girls—not one?"

"Well, they didn't come my way," said William, contentedly munching at bread and butter. "Altogether the modern election is such a stupid bore compared to the old."

"You wanted duchesses, to come and kiss for you?" As she spoke, Mary Lyster half put out a hand to reach him cake; then refrained, and left him to feed himself.

"Something alive, anyway,—wicked, jolly, corrupt! Such a parcel of dull, virtuous hypocrites as we all are!"

"H'm, sir!—So you didn't believe a word of your own speeches?" said Lady Tranmore, as she stood behind him and smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

"Well, who does?" He looked up and kissed the tips of her fingers.

"And it's in that spirit you're going back into the House?" Mary Lyster threw him the question as she resumed her work.

"Spirit? What do you mean, Polly? One plays the game, of course,—and it has its moments—its hot corners, so to speak—or I suppose no one would play it!"

"But as to any goal—any great purpose—you don't believe in that?"

"Why!—to keep the other fellows out, of course!" He lifted an arm and drew his mother down to sit on the edge of his chair.

"William, you're not to talk like that," said Lady Tranmore, decidedly—laying her cheek, however, against his hand the while. "It was all very well when you were quite a free-lance—but now—Oh! never mind Mary—she's discreet—and she knows all about it."

"What—that they're thinking of giving me Hickson's place? Parham has just written to me—I found the letter down-stairs—to ask me to go and see him."

"Oh! it's come?" said Lady Tranmore, with a start of pleasure. Parham was the Prime Minister. "Now don't be a hum- bug, William, and pretend you're not pleased. But you'll have to work, mind!" She held up an admonishing finger. "You'll have to answer letters, mind!—you'll have to keep appointments, mind!"

"Shall I?"

He turned to her, smiling, and their eyes met. Suddenly his expression changed and broadened to a grin.

"Mother, I had a heavenly dream last night! I thought I was looking on at a great animal procession—not really animals, though, but half beasts and birds and half members of the House, and 'leading constituents' and all sorts of boring fellows, you understand—and I woke up saying the best verses I ever made. And, by George! I managed to write three lines down. Listen!"

And he recited—pompously:

He threw himself back, shouting with laughter, and his companions must needs laugh too.

"Twenty monied stoats—isn't it exact! Bash and Weyman—and Porson"— he named three most respected members of the House of Commons. "Suck the life out of anybody, the rascals!—And as for the 'gray grampus'—isn't it Parham to a 't'! I must have been thinking of the all-night sitting.—Ah!—"

He turned. The butler was in the room.

"His Lordship, my Lady, would like to see Mr. William before dinner if he could make it convenient."