s a reason for everything in this world. Still, the
spectacle of a good man fighting dumbly with a cruel disappointment--and
disappointment is perhaps the bitterest pill in all the pharmacopeia of
life--is certainly a severe test of one's convictions on the subject.

At this moment the rest of the party--_minus_ Dolly--flowed out on to
the doorstep to say farewell; and two minutes later Captain Dermott
drove heavily away--back to his day's work.

Well, thank God there is always that!

* * * * *

"I thought she was going to take him," said Kitty in her subsequent
summing-up. "It was far and away the best offer she has ever had. And he
is such a dear, too! What does the child want, I wonder! A coronet?"

"'A dinner of herbs,' perhaps," said I.

Kitty eyed me thoughtfully, and gave a wise little nod.

"Yes--Dolly is just that sort," she agreed. "But what makes you think
that?"

"Oh--nothing," I said.

There are certain matters upon which it is almost an impertinence for a
man to offer an opinion to a woman, and I rather shrank from rushing in
where my wife had evidently not thought it worth while to tread. Still,
I could not help wondering in my heart whether the arrival of one
gentleman on Sunday may not sometimes have something to do, however
indirectly, with the abrupt departure of another gentleman on Monday.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE COMPLEAT ANGLER.

The Division of Stoneleigh, which had hitherto done me the honour of
returning me as its Member of Parliament, is a triangular tract of
country in the north of England.

At the apex of the triangle lies Stoneleigh itself, a township whose
chief assets are an ancient cathedral at one end, and a flourishing
industry, proclaiming to the heavens its dependence upon Hides and
Tallow, at the other. The base of the triangle runs along the sea-coast,
and is dotted with fishing villages. Most of the intervening area is
under cultivation.

It will be seen, then, that the character of my constituency varied in a
perplexing manner, and while I could usually depend upon what I may call
the Turnip interest, I could not always count with absolute certainty on
the whole-hearted support of the Fish or Hides-and-Tallow.

To this delectable microcosm my household and I migrated one bleak day
in February, to commence what promised to be an arduous and thoroughly
uncomfortable electoral campaign.

The Government had gone out at last, mor