[Sidenote:  A false alarm.]

But all the same, it was a false alarm.  For if the Old Man had tripped, he was able to recover himself very soon.  Mr. Balfour was foolish enough to try and dot the “I’s,” and to put into Mr. Gladstone’s mouth that which his enemies hoped he had said.  For Mr. Balfour, remarking that Mr. Gladstone had made a more explicit declaration than any which had yet come from his lips—­this was all right, and was quite true—­went on to the further statement that the Old Man had now committed himself to standing or falling by the ninth clause “in its present shape.”  This, you will see, was the whole crux of the situation.  If Mr. Gladstone had said this, then, indeed, it might go hard with him by-and-bye, for whether the Liberal party would accept the ninth clause in its present shape was one of the questions yet to be decided.  The Old Man, however his words might have been open to this construction, had not in reality said anything of the kind.  And, at once, he was prompt to see how necessary it was to correct this error, for he immediately rose to his feet to say that he had never said anything of the sort.  What he had said was that the Government intended to stand by the principle that the Irish members were to have a place in the Imperial Parliament, which, it will be seen, leaves open the perilous and perplexing question:  what form that representation in the Imperial Parliament is to take.  At once there was a heavy sigh of relief, and most of all on the Irish Benches.  Among the Irishry, the declaration of Mr. Gladstone had produced a moment of something like panic; the only exhibition of which was a certain impatience with the attempt of Mr. Balfour to pin the Old Man down to the most literal interpretation of his words.  The panic soon passed away.  It was all, I say, a false alarm.  Vulnerable though his temper—­though there was in him still enough of the hot onrush of battle and of resistance under all the snow of advancing years—­the great old tactician had not forgotten his cunning.  He at once seized the opportunity of saying he was not finally committed to the ninth clause in its present shape, and so we once more breathed freely.

[Sidenote:  Joe comes back from dinner.]

This was the end of the important part of the debate before the dinner hour.  It is one of the peculiarities of Mr. Chamberlain that no stress of a Parliamentary situation induces him to seriously interfere with his habits.  When the clock points to ten minutes to eight any evening of the week, he may be seen to rise from his place with the inevitableness of fate, and to disappear for a couple of hours.  I have seen him do this even when the fortune of a most important amendment seemed to lie trembling in the balance—­the one occasion on which I have known him to break through that rigid rule was when his son was about to make that maiden speech which started that promising young fellow on his Parliamentary career.  Coming back