r of the family."

The election was keenly but decorously contested. The newly-appointed
Colonial Secretary was personally popular, while the Government to which
he adhered was distinctly unpopular, and there was some expectancy that
the majority of four hundred, obtained at the last election, would be
altogether wiped out. Both sides were hopeful, but neither could feel
confident. The children were a great success; the little Jutterlys drove
their chubby donkeys solemnly up and down the main streets, displaying
posters which advocated the claims of their father on the broad general
grounds that he was their father, while as for Hyacinth, his conduct
might have served as a model for any seraph-child that had strayed
unwittingly on to the scene of an electoral contest. Of his own accord,
and under the delighted eyes of half a dozen camera operators, he had
gone up to the Jutterly children and presented them with a packet of
butterscotch; "we needn't be enemies because we're wearing the opposite
colours," he said with engaging friendliness, and the occupants of the
donkey-cart accepted his offering with polite solemnity. The grown-up
members of both political camps were delighted at the incident--with the
exception of Mrs. Panstreppon, who shuddered.

"Never was Clytemnestra's kiss sweeter than on the night she slew me,"
she quoted, but made the quotation to herself.

The last hour of the poll was a period of unremitting labour for both
parties; it was generally estimated that not more than a dozen votes
separated the candidates, and every effort was made to bring up
obstinately wavering electors. It was with a feeling of relaxation and
relief that every one heard the clocks strike the hour for the close of
the poll. Exclamations broke out from the tired workers, and corks flew
out from bottles.

"Well, if we haven't won; we've done our level best." "It has been a
clean straight fight, with no rancour." "The children were quite a
charming feature, weren't they?"

The children? It suddenly occurred to everybody that they had seen
nothing of the children for the last hour. What had become of the three
little Jutterlys and their donkey-cart, and, for the matter of that, what
had become of Hyacinth. Hurried, anxious embassies went backwards and
forwards between the respective party headquarters and the various
committee-rooms, but there was blank ignorance everywhere as to the
whereabouts of the children. Ev