o is coming to-morrow," said old Ezra Bradfield, the chairman of
the Workmen's League. "And I hear he means to move heaven and earth to
keep you out of Parliament."

"And I mean to get in," said Paul grimly.

CHAPTER VII

THE FIGHT AND THE RESULT

A little later Brunford was wild with excitement. It is true the
Government had not yet resigned, and as a consequence the General
Election was not yet upon them, but all felt that there was a crisis in
the political situation, and that the battle would be a very keen one
indeed. Mr. Bolitho was spending all the time he possibly could in
Brunford, while Mary Bolitho had resumed her work of canvassing the
poorer streets. More than once Paul, in going round the town, had seen
her, but she never looked toward him, and seemed to be utterly
regardless of his presence. All the same, Paul felt sure she had seen
him, and her presence, even although she had become the fixed star of
his life, strengthened his determination to get the better of her
father in this fight. So entirely did he devote himself to his
political work that, in the main, he left business matters to his
partner.

"Things are safe in your hands, Preston," he said, "and everything is
going smoothly. Now I'm on this job I mean to win."

"I'd rather you'd stick to business, Paul," said Preston. "We're
walking on slippery ground just now. You know we've made our money by
a speciality, and it needs a lot of watching."

"Yes," said Paul. "It was because we decided to specialise that we've
been so successful. We discovered our secret and we've made the most
of it."

"Yes," urged the other, "but we've a lot of stuff in our warehouse just
now; as you know, we've kept it because we believed that prices would
go up. If the prices were to go down now, we should be ruined."

"But they won't go down," said Paul; "they can't. We've the monopoly
of it. And when winter comes everybody will be buying it."

"I should feel safer," said Preston, "if you'd give more of your time
to it. But there, I'll do my best, although I don't like the look on
Ned Wilson's face."

"Ned Wilson's face!" said Paul. "What do you mean, lad?"

"I mean that yesterday he met me in the reading-room of the Mechanics'
Institute and he just laughed. 'How goes the speciality, Preston?' he
said. 'Is it a speciality? Are you the only people who manufacture
it?' And I didn't know what to say, Paul, for I know he hates us like