The result of the election was no surprise to the defeated party. The honest among them acknowledged that they deserved to be beaten, and they felt no personal rancour against Eloquent.

If Marlehouse was unfortunate enough to be represented by a Radical, they preferred that the Radical should be a Marlehouse man and not some "carpet-bagger" imported from South Wales. Eloquent's bearing, both during the contest and afterwards, was acknowledged to be modest and "suitable." If he was lacking in geniality and address, he was, at all events, neither bumptious nor servile. His lenity towards the youths who had done their best to break up his meeting and wreck his committee rooms had leaked out, and gained for him, if not friends, at least toleration among several leading Conservatives who had been his bitterest opponents.

Mary, Grantly, and Buz Ffolliot all felt a sneaking satisfaction that he had got in. A satisfaction they in no wise dared to express, for Mr Ffolliot was really much upset at the result of the election; feeling it something of a personal insult that one so closely associated with a ready-made clothes' shop, a shop in his own nearest town, should represent him in Parliament. Mr Ffolliot would have preferred the "carpet-bagger."

Mary, who cared as little as she knew about politics, was pleased. Because Eloquent had been "decent" to Grantly, she was glad he had got what he wanted, though why he should ardently desire that particular thing she did not attempt to understand. Grantly was sincerely grateful to Eloquent for getting him out of what would undoubtedly have been a most colossal row, had any hint of his conduct at Marlehouse on the eve of the election reached his father's ears.

Neither Grantly nor Mary knew anything of the Miss Buttermish episode. For Buz, since the accident, was basking in the sympathy of his family, and had no intention of diverting the stream of favours that flowed over him by any revelations they might not wholly approve. Buz, therefore, had his own reasons, unshared by anyone but Uz (who was silent as the grave in all that concerned his twin), for gratitude to Eloquent. Grantly and Buz unconsciously shared a rather unwilling admiration for the little, common-looking man who could do a good turn and hold his tongue, evidently expecting neither recognition nor remembrance. For Eloquent expected neither, and yet he could not forget the real earnestness of Grantly Ffolliot's parting words.

Could such a foolish youth be trusted to mean what he said? or was it only the surface courtesy that seemed to come so easily to the "classes" Eloquent still regarded with mistrust and suspicion?

He longed to test Grantly Ffolliot.

An opportunity came sooner than he expected. Parliament did not meet till the end of the month, and although he went to London a good deal on varied business, he kept on the little house in his native town, wrote liberal cheques for all the charities, opened a Baptist bazaar, and generally did his duty according to his lights and the instructions of his agent.

In the third week of January he was asked to "kick off" at a "soccer" match to be held in Marlehouse. This was rather an event, as two important teams from a distance were for some reason or other to play there. The Marlehouse folk played "Rugger" as a rule, but this match was regarded in the light of a curiosity; people would come in from miles round, and hordes of mechanics would flock over from Garchester, the county town. It was considered quite a big sporting event, and his agent informed Eloquent that a great honour had been done him.

Eloquent appeared duly impressed and accepted the invitation.

Then it occurred to him that never in his life had he seen a football match of any kind.

Games were not compulsory at the Grammar School, and Eloquent had no natural inclination to play them. When a little boy he had generally gone for a walk with his father or his aunt on a half-holiday. As he grew older he either attended extra classes at the science school or read for himself notable books bearing upon the political history of the last fifty years. Games had no place in his scheme of existence. His father, most certainly, had never played games and had no desire that Eloquent should do so; as for going to watch other people play them—such a proceeding would have been dismissed by the elder Mr Gallup as "foolhardy nonsense." Serious-minded men had no time for such frivolity.

Nevertheless it became increasingly evident to Eloquent that a large number of his constituents—whether they actually took part in what he persisted in calling "these pastimes" or not—were very keenly interested in watching others do so, and Eloquent was consumed by anxiety as to how he was to discover what it was he was expected to do.

There were plenty of his political supporters who were not only able but would have been most willing to solve his difficulty, but he dreaded the inevitable confession of his ignorance. They would be kind enough, he was sure of that, but would they make game of his ignorance afterwards? Would they talk?

He was pretty sure they would.

Eloquent hated talk. Grantly and Buz Ffolliot had each recognised and admired that quality in him, and it is possible that he had vaguely discerned a kindred reticence in these feather-brained boys.

He distrusted all his political allies in Marlehouse in this matter of the kick-off.

Why then should Grantly Ffolliot occur to him as a person able and likely to help him in this dilemma?

He was pretty sure that Grantly played football. Soldiers did these things, and Grantly was going to be a soldier. A soldier, in Eloquent's mind, epitomised all that was useless, idle, luxurious, and destructive. Mr Gallup and his friends had disapproved of the Transvaal War; our reverses did not affect them personally, for they had no friends at the front, and our long-deferred victories left them cold. The flame of Eloquent's enthusiasm was fanned at school, only to be quenched at home by the wet blanket of his father's disapproval. Sturdy Miss Gallup snapped at them both, and knitted helmets and mittens and sent socks and handkerchiefs and cocoa to the Redmarley men in South Africa; and her brother gave her the socks and handkerchiefs out of stock, but under protest.

Eloquent knew no soldiers, either officers or in the ranks. He had been taught to look upon the private as almost always drawn from the less reputable of the working classes, and although he acknowledged that officers might, some of them, be hard-working and intelligent, he was inclined to regard them with suspicion.

Suppose he did ask Grantly Ffolliot about this ridiculous kick-off, and
Grantly went about making fun of him afterwards?

"Then I shall know," he said to himself. All the same it appeared to him that Grantly Ffolliot was the only possible person to ask.

It came about quite easily. One morning he was coming down the steps of the bank in Marlehouse and saw Grantly on horseback waiting at the curb till someone should turn up to hold his horse while he went in. He had ridden in to cash a cheque for his mother. The main street was very empty and no available loafer was to be seen.

As Grantly caught sight of Eloquent descending the steps he smiled his charming smile. "Hullo, I've never seen you since the election. Heartiest grats," the boy called cheerily. Eloquent went up to him and held out his hand. He looked up and down the street, no one was within earshot. "I've a favour to ask you, Mr Ffolliot," he said in a low tone, "but you must promise to refuse at once if you have any objection."

Grantly leant down to him, smiling more broadly than ever. "That's awfully decent of you," he said, and he meant it.

Again Eloquent cast an anxious look up and down the street. "They've asked me to kick-off at the match on Saturday, and . . . you'll think me extraordinarily ignorant . . . I've no idea what one does. Can I learn in the time?"

Eloquent's always rosy face was almost purple with the effort he had made.

Grantly, on the contrary, appeared quite unmoved. He fixed his eyes on his horse's left ear and said easily: "It's the simplest thing in the world. All we want is a field and a ball, and we've got both at home. At least . . . not a soccer ball—but I don't think that matters. When will you come?"

"When may I come?"

"Meet me this afternoon in the field next but one behind the church.
There's never anyone there, and we'll fix it up."

"All right," said Eloquent. "Many thanks . . . I suppose you think it very absurd?" he added nervously.

This time Grantly did not look at Mafeking's left ear, he looked straight into Eloquent's uplifted eyes, saying slowly:

"I don't see that I'm called upon to think anything about it. You've done another kind thing in asking me. Why should you think I don't see it?"

And in spite of himself Eloquent mumbled, "I beg your pardon."

"This afternoon then, at three-thirty sharp—good-day."

A loafer hurried up at this moment and Grantly swung off his horse and ran up the steps into the bank.

Eloquent looked after the graceful figure in the well-cut riding clothes and sighed—

"If I'd been like himself he'd have asked me to hold his horse while he went in, but things being as they are, he wouldn't," he reflected bitterly.

* * * * * *

Only one belonging to a large family knows how difficult it is to do anything by one's self.

That afternoon it seemed to Grantly that each member of the Manor House party wanted him for something, and he offended every one of them by ungraciously refusing to accompany each one in turn.

His mother and Mary were driving into Marlehouse and wanted him to come and hold the horse while they went into the different shops, but he excused himself on the score of his morning's errand, and Uz was told off for the duty, greatly to his disgust. Reggie asked Grantly to ride with him, but Grantly complained of fatigue, and Reggie, who knew perfectly well that the excuse was invalid, called him a slacker and started forth huffily alone, mentally animadverting on the "edge" displayed by the new type of cadet.

Nearly ten years' service gave Reggie the right to talk regretfully of the stern school he had been brought up in.

Ger, on the previous day, had been sent to his grandparents at Woolwich "by command"; and the Kitten was going with Thirza to a children's party. She was therefore made to lie down for an hour after lunch—so she was disposed of. There remained only Buz, and Buz was on the prowl seeking someone to amuse him. His arm was still in a sling and he expected sympathy. He shadowed Grantly till nearly half-past three, when that gentleman appeared in the back passage clad in sweater and shorts, with a Rugger ball under his arm.

"Hullo," cried Buz, "where are you off to?"

"I'm going to practise drop-kicks . . . by myself," Grantly answered grumpily.

"Why can't I come? I could kick even if I can't use this beastly arm."

"No, it's too cold for you to stand about."

"Bosh; I can wrap myself in a railway rug if it comes to that."

"It needn't come to that. You go for a sharp walk or else take a book and amuse yourself. I must be off."

"Well you are a selfish curmudgeon," Buz exclaimed in real astonishment. "Why this sudden passion for solitude?"

Grantly banged the door in Buz's face, regardless of the warning cards, and set off to run. Buz opened the door and looked after him, noted the direction, nodded his head thrice and nipped upstairs to Grantly's room, where he abstracted his field-glasses from their case hanging on a peg behind the door. He hung them round his neck by the short black strap, tied a sweater over his shoulders, and went out by the side door in quite a different direction from that taken by his brother.

* * * * * *

Oblivious of the surgeon's strict injunctions that he was on no account to run or risk a fall of any kind, holding the glasses with his free hand so that they shouldn't drag on his neck, directly he was clear of the house he broke into the swinging steady trot that had won him the half-mile under fifteen in the last school sports; climbed two gates and jumped a ditch, finally arriving at the top of a small hill, the very highest point on the Manor property. From this eminence he surveyed the country round, and speedily, without the aid of the field-glasses, discerned his brother kicking a football well into the centre of the field, while the Liberal member for Marlehouse ran after it and tried somewhat feebly to kick it back.

"Well I'm jiggered!" Buz exclaimed in breathless astonishment; "so he knows him too. Whatever are they playing at?"

He fixed the field-glasses, watching intently, then dropped them and rubbed his eyes, took them up again and gazed fixedly, and so absorbed was he that he positively leapt into the air when he heard his father's voice close beside him asking mildly, "What are you watching so intently, Hilary?"

The lovely winter afternoon had tempted Mr Ffolliot out. Usually Mrs Ffolliot accompanied him on his rare walks, but this afternoon he only decided to go out after she had left for Marlehouse. Like Buz, he sought the highest point of his estate, in his case that he might complacently survey its many acres.

Buz dropped the glasses so that they hung by their strap and swung round, facing his father with his back to the distant figures with the football, seized the glasses again and gazed into the copse, exclaiming eagerly, "A fox, sir; perhaps you could see him if you're quick," pulled the strap over his head, gave the glasses a dextrous twist, entirely destroying their focus, and handed them to his father, who fiddled about for some time before he could see anything at all.

"A fox," Mr Ffolliot repeated, "in the copse. We had better go and warn Willets to look out for his ducks and chickens."

"I don't suppose he'll stay, sir, but perhaps it would be as well.
Shall I take the glasses, father, they're rather heavy?"

But Mr Ffolliot had got them focussed and was leisurely surveying the distant scene; gradually turning so that in another moment he would bear directly on the field where Grantly and Eloquent were now to be seen standing in earnest conversation.

"There he is," shouted the mendacious Buz, seizing his father by the arm so violently that he almost knocked him down, "over there towards the house; don't you see him? a big dog fox with a splendid brush——"

Imperceptibly Buz had propelled his father down the slope on the side farthest from his brother.

"My dear Hilary," Mr Ffolliot exclaimed, straightening his hat, which had become disarranged in the violence of his son's impact, "one would think no one had ever seen a fox before; why be so excited about it?"

"But didn't you see him, sir?" Buz persisted. "There he goes close by the garden wall; oh, do look."

Mr Ffolliot looked for all he was worth. He twiddled the glasses and put them out of focus, but naturally he failed to behold the mythical fox which was the product of his offspring's fertile brain.

They were at the bottom of the slope now, and Buz gave a sigh of relief.

"I thought I saw two youths in the five-acre field," Mr Ffolliot remarked presently; "what were they doing?"

"Practising footer, I fancy," Buz said easily, thankful that at last he could safely speak the truth.

"Ah," said Mr Ffolliot, "it is extraordinary what a lot of time the working classes seem able to spend upon games nowadays. Still, I'm always glad they should play rather than merely watch. It is that watching and not doing that saps the moral as well as the physical strength of the nation."

"It's Thursday, you see, father—early closing," Buz suggested.

"Well, well, I'm glad they should have their game. Shall we stroll round and have a look at them?"

"Oh I wouldn't, if I were you, father, they'd stop directly. These village chaps are always so shy. It would spoil their afternoon."

"Would it?" Mr Ffolliot asked dubiously; "would it? I should have thought they would have found encouragement in the fact that their Squire took an interest in their sports."

"I don't think so," Buz said decidedly; "they hate to be looked at when they're practising."

"Very well, very well, if you think so," Mr Ffolliot said with surprising meekness; "we'll go and see Willets instead, and tell him about that fox."

"I don't think I'd bother him, the fox is miles away by now."

"Well, where shall we go?" Mr Ffolliot demanded testily; "I've come out to walk with you, and you do nothing but object to every direction I propose."

"Let us," said Buz, praying for inspiration, "let us go straight on till we come to a cleaner bit."

Mr Ffolliot looked ruefully at his boots. "It is wet," he remarked, "mind you don't slip with that arm of yours."

"Shall I take the glasses, father?" Buz asked politely.

"Yes, do, though I'm not sure that I wholly approve of Grantly lending these expensive glasses to you younger ones. I must speak to him about it."

Buz sighed heavily.

* * * * * *

Just once more did Eloquent see Mary before Parliament met. It was in a shop in Marlehouse the day after he had received his lesson in kicking off, and he was buying ties. Eloquent was critical about ties, he had by long apprenticeship penetrated to the true inwardness of their importance, and this afternoon he was very difficult to please. Many boxes were laid upon the counter before him, the counter was strewn with "neckwear," and yet he had only found one to his liking. While the assistant was away seeking others from distant shelves, Eloquent busied himself in arranging the scattered ties carefully in their proper boxes. For him it was a perfectly natural thing to do, but he happened to look into the mirror that faced the counter, and in it he beheld Mary Ffolliot seated at the counter behind him, and she was watching him with fascinated interest. Buz was with her and they were buying socks. Eloquent's deft hands dropped to his sides and he turned furiously red. For no one knew better than he that it is not usual for a customer to arrange goods in a shop.

The young lady in the mirror had discreetly turned her head away, the assistant came back, Eloquent bought two ties without having the least idea what they were like, and then he heard a voice behind him saying, "How do you do, Mr Gallup—we've not seen you since the election to congratulate you," and Mary was standing at his side holding out her hand.

He shook hands with Mary, he shook hands with Buz, he mumbled something incoherent, and they were gone.

The Liberal member for Marlehouse rushed from the shop in an opposite direction without taking or paying for his ties, and the astute assistant packed them up, having added three that Eloquent did not buy, for the good of the trade.