. Sir Thomas assured his new friend that he was
pretty well. "'Cause you seemed rayther down on your luck when you
was here before," said Mr. Pile.

"No need for that," said Spicer, the man of mustard. "Is there,
Trigger?" Trigger sat a little apart, with one bottle of port wine at
his elbow, and took no part in the conversation. He was aware that
his opportunities were so great that the outside supporters ought to
have their time. "Any objection to this, Sir Thomas?" he said, taking
a cigar-case out of his pocket. Sir Thomas, who hated tobacco, of
course gave permission. Trigger rang the bell, ordered cigars for
the party, and then sat apart with his port wine. In ten minutes Sir
Thomas hardly knew where he was, so dense was the cloud of smoke.

"Sir Thomas," began Mr. Pabsby,--"if I could only clearly see my
way--"

"You'll see it clear enough before nomination-day," said Mr. Pile.

"Any ways, after election," said a conservative grocer. Both these
gentlemen belonged to the Established Church and delighted in
snubbing Mr. Pabsby. Indeed, Mr. Pabsby had no business at this
meeting, and so he had been told very plainly by one or two as he had
joined them in the street. He explained, however, that his friend Sir
Thomas had come to him the very first person in Percycross, and he
carried his point in joining the party. But he was a mild man, and
when he was interrupted he merely bided another opportunity.

"I hope, Sir Thomas, your mind is made up to do something for our
trade," said Mr. Roodylands.

"What's the matter with your trade?" said Spiveycomb, the
paper-maker.

"Well;--we ain't got no jobs in it;--that's the matter," said Mr.
Pile.

"As for jobs, what's the odds?" said a big and burly loud-mouthed
tanner. "All on us likes a good thing when it comes in our way. Stow
that, and don't let's be told about jobs. Sir Thomas, here's your
health, and I wish you at the top of the poll,--that is, next to
Mr. Griffenbottom." Then they all drank to Sir Thomas's health, Mr.
Pabsby filling himself a bumper for the occasion.

It was eleven before they went away, at which time Mr. Pabsby had
three time's got as far as a declaration of his wish to see things
clearly. Further than this he could not get; but still he went away
in perfect good humour. He would have another opportunity, as he took
occasion to whisper when he shook hands with the candidate. Trigger
stayed even yet for half-an-hour. "Don't waste your time on