him that wasn't painted with rotten eggs. The smell was something
quite awful. But I brought him in, through it all."

And Mr Scruby at last did as much for George Vavasor as he had done
for the hero of the Hamlets. At the close of the poll Vavasor's name
stood at the head by a considerable majority, and Scruby comforted
him by saying that Travers certainly wouldn't stand the expense of a
petition, as the seat was to be held only for a few months.

"And you've done it very cheap, Mr Vavasor," said Scruby,
"considering that the seat is metropolitan. I do say that you have
done it cheap. Another thousand, or twelve hundred, will cover
everything--say thirteen, perhaps, at the outside. And when you shall
have fought the battle once again, you'll have paid your footing, and
the fellows will let you in almost for nothing after that."

A further sum of thirteen hundred pounds was wanted at once, and then
the whole thing was to be repeated over again in six months' time!
This was not consolatory. But, nevertheless, there was a triumph in
the thing itself which George Vavasor was man enough to enjoy. It
would be something to have sat in the House of Commons, though it
should only have been for half a session.

CHAPTER XLV

George Vavasor Takes His Seat

George Vavasor's feeling of triumph was not unjustifiable. It is
something to have sat in the House of Commons, though it has been but
for one session! There is on the left-hand side of our great national
hall,--on the left-hand side as one enters it, and opposite to the
doors leading to the Law Courts,--a pair of gilded lamps, with a door
between them, near to which a privileged old dame sells her apples
and her oranges solely, as I presume, for the accommodation of the
Members of the House and of the great policeman who guards the pass.
Between those lamps is the entrance to the House of Commons, and none
but Members may go that way! It is the only gate before which I have
ever stood filled with envy,--sorrowing to think that my steps might
never pass under it. There are many portals forbidden to me, as there
are many forbidden to all men; and forbidden fruit, they say, is
sweet; but my lips have watered after no other fruit but that which
grows so high, within the sweep of that great policeman's truncheon.

Ah, my male friend and reader, who earnest thy bread, perhaps, as a
country vicar; or sittest, may-be, at some weary desk in Somerset
House; or who, perha