h over Mr. Crewe's
proposed venture into the unknown seas of politics. I mean, of course,
that portion of Leith which recognized in Mr. Crewe an eligible bachelor
and a person of social importance, for these qualities were not
particularly appealing to the three hundred odd farmers whose votes were
expected to send him rejoicing to the State capital.

"It is so rare with us for a gentleman to go into politics, that we ought
to do everything we can to elect him," Mrs. Pomfret went about declaring.
"Women do so much in England, I wonder they don't do more here. I was
staying at Aylestone Court last year when the Honourable Billy Aylestone
was contesting the family seat with a horrid Radical, and I assure you,
my dear, I got quite excited. We did nothing from morning till night but
electioneer for the Honourable Billy, and kissed all the babies in the
borough. The mothers were so grateful. Now, Edith, do tell Jack instead
of playing tennis and canoeing all day he ought to help. It's the duty of
all young men to help. Noblesse oblige, you know. I can't understand
Victoria. She really has influence with these country people, but she
says it's all nonsense. Sometimes I think Victoria has a common streak in
her--and no wonder. The other day she actually drove to the Hammonds' in
a buggy with an unknown lawyer from Ripton. But I told you about it. Tell
your gardener and the people that do your haying, dear, and your chicken
woman. My chicken woman is most apathetic, but do you wonder, with the
life they lead?"

Mr. Humphrey Crewe might have had, with King Charles, the watchword
"Thorough." He sent to the town clerk for a check-list, and proceeded to
honour each of the two hundred Republican voters with a personal visit.
This is a fair example of what took place in the majority of cases.

Out of a cloud of dust emerges an automobile, which halts, with
protesting brakes, in front of a neat farmhouse, guarded by great maples.
Persistent knocking by a chauffeur at last brings a woman to the door.
Mrs. Jenney has a pleasant face and an ample figure.

"Mr. Jenney live here?" cries Mr. Crewe from the driver's seat.

"Yes," says Mrs. Jenney, smiling.

"Tell him I want to see him."

"Guess you'll find him in the apple orchard."

"Where's that?"

The chauffeur takes down the bars, Mr. Jenney pricks up his ears, and
presently--to his amazement--perceives a Leviathan approaching him,
careening over the ruts of his wood road. Not