t Polly, was but a sorry return on Tilly's part for Richard's
hospitality. After all, it was his house she had been a guest in.

Such were the wheels within wheels. And thus it came about that, when
the question rose of paving the way for John Turnham's candidature,
Mahony drew the line at approaching Henry Ocock.

Chapter X

John drove from Melbourne in a drag and four, accompanied by numerous
friends and well-wishers. A mile or so out of Ballarat, he was met by a
body of supporters headed by a brass band, and escorted in triumph to
the George Hotel. Here, the horses having been led away, John at once
took the field by mounting the box-seat of the coach and addressing the
crowd of idlers that had gathered round to watch the arrival. He got an
excellent hearing--so Jerry reported, who was an eye and ear-witness of
the scene--and was afterwards borne shoulder-high into the hotel.

With Jerry at his heels, Mahony called at the hotel that evening. He
found John entertaining a large impromptu party. The table of the
public dining-room was disorderly with the remains of a liberal meal;
napkins lay crushed and flung down among plates piled high with empty
nutshells; the cloth was wine-stained, and bestrewn with ashes and
breadcrumbs, the air heady with the fumes of tobacco. Those of the
guests who still lingered at the table had pushed their chairs back or
askew, and sat, some a-straddle, some even with their feet on the
cloth. John was confabbing with half a dozen black-coats in a corner.
Each held a wineglass in his hand from which he sipped, while John,
legs apart, did all the talking, every now and then putting out his
forefinger to prod one of his hearers on the middle button of the
waistcoat. It was some time before he discovered the presence of his
relatives; and Mahony had leisure to admire the fashion in which, this
corner-talk over, John dispersed himself among the company; drinking
with this one and that; glibly answering questions; patting a
glum-faced brewer on the back; and simultaneously checking over, with
an oily-haired agent, his committee-meetings for the following days.
His customary arrogance and pompousness of manner were laid aside. For
the nonce, he was a simple man among men.

Then espying them, he hurried over, and rubbing his hands with pleasure
said warmly: "My dear Mahony, this is indeed kind! Jerry, my lad, how
do, how do? Still growing, I see! We'll make a fine fellow of you
yet.-- We