ater.

And all this while Kitty stood--as she declared ever after--with the
thoughts hissing in her head like eggs in a frying-pan. She heard the
crowd cheering outside, and felt the votes slipping away with every cheer.
She cast her eyes up to the pulpit, and there, through a haze, saw old
Parson Polsue rubbing his spectacles and shaking like an aspen. Her wits
only came back to her when the Tory candidates, in the pew before her,
reached for their hats and prepared to follow the mob. Dr. Macann was
actually fumbling with the button of the door. Quick as thought then she
seized a hassock, sprang on it, and, reaching over the partition, pressed
a hand down on his chestnut wig.

"Sit still--sit still, man!" she commanded. "Thee'rt throwing helve after
hatchet, I tell 'ee. What's a stomach-ache, after all?"

"I don't follow you, Mrs. Lebow," said the Doctor: and small blame to him.

"Never you mind about understanding," said Kitty. "But sit you down and
keep your eye on the Parson. See the colour on him--that's anger, my
dear! And see his jaw, full of blessed stubbornness! Nine good votes he
has, and old Grandison a couple beside: and every one of 'em as good as
cast for you, if you'll sit it out. Sit quiet for two minutes now, and
to-morrow you shall sit for Ardevora."

"But the crowd?" the Doctor couldn't help murmuring, though none the less
he obeyed.

Kitty's eye began to twinkle. "Leave the crowd to me," she was beginning,
when her eye lit on John a Hall, that had entered and was making his way
towards the pulpit, from which in the fury of his anger old Polsue was
climbing down with a nimbleness you wouldn't believe. And with that she
almost laughed out, for a worse peacemaker the Whigs couldn't have chosen.
But Major Dyngwall had sent him, having none to advise, and being near to
his wits' end, poor young man.

"Beg your pardon, Parson," began John a Hall, stepping up with that grin
on his face which he couldn't help and which the Parson abominated:
"but I'm here to bring Lord William's compliments and apologies, and
assure you from him that your sermon had nothing to do with his
stomach-ache. Nothing whatever!"

Parson Polsue opened his mouth to answer, but thought better of it.
I reckon he remembered the sacred edifice. At any rate he went past John
a Hall with a terrific turn of speed, and old Grandison after him: and the
next news was the vestry-door slammed-to behind them both, as 'twere