? Hark! What's that?"

"That's the result, I expect," said my brother-in-law.

We drew up the blind and opened the window. The moon was shining
brightly, and threw the monstrous shadow of the Cathedral very blackly
upon the untrodden snow of the peaceful Close. Through the clear night
air came the sound of frenzied cheering.

"That's it, right enough," said Gerald. "I wonder if you've got the
chuck, my bonny boy."

"Ugh! It is cold! Come in," said Kitty.

We shut the window, drew down the blind, returned to the fire, and
waited. Dolly joined us now, and Kitty vanished to sit by Phillis. We
waited on. Somehow it never occurred to us to send downstairs for news.
I suppose there are times when the human craving for sensation is sated.
We sat and waited.

At last the door opened, and, as I expected, Robin entered. He looked
like a man who has not been to bed for a week. He shut the door softly
behind him--evidently he feared he might be entering a house of
mourning--and surveyed us for a moment without speaking. I knew what was
in his mind. Then he said--

"We have lost."

I stood up.

"On the contrary," I replied, "we have won."

In a bound Robin was on the hearth-rug, gripping my hand with his. (His
other had somehow got hold of one of Dolly's, and I remember wondering
if he was hurting her as much as me.)

"You mean it?" he roared.

"I do. She is sleeping like a lamb."

"Oh, man, I'm just glad! What does _anything_ matter after that?"

Then we sat down and smiled upon each other largely and vacuously. We
were all a little unstrung that night, I think. After all, it seems
rather unreasonable to lavish one's time, labour, and money on an
electoral contest, and then laugh when you lose, and say it doesn't
matter, just because a child isn't going to die. Oh, I am glad Mr Cash
was not there!

"But I must tell you what happened when the result was read out," said
Robin. "It was a near thing--a majority of twenty-seven. (I don't think
it is worth while to ask for a recount: everything was done very
carefully.) When the figures went up there was the usual hullabaloo----"

"We heard it, thanks," said Gerald.

"And presently Stridge stepped out on to the balcony and bowed his
acknowledgments. There was a lot more yelling and horn-blowing, and then
they began to cry out for Inglethwaite."

"Naturally. Yes?"

"They were quiet at last, and Stridge got his speech in. He talked the
usual blethers about having