He tried it, and succeeded thoroughly in making the House understand that he was very angry,—­but he succeeded in nothing else.  He could not catch the words to express the thoughts of his mind.  He could not explain his idea that the people out of the House had as much right to express their opinion in favour of the ballot as members in the House had to express theirs against it; and that animosity had been shown to the people by the authorities because they had so expressed their opinion.  Then he attempted to tell the story of Mr. Bunce in a light and airy way, failed, and sat down in the middle of it.  Again he was cheered by all around him,—­cheered as a new member is usually cheered,—­and in the midst of the cheer would have blown out his brains had there been a pistol there ready for such an operation.

That hour with him was very bad.  He did not know how to get up and go away, or how to keep his place.  For some time he sat with his hat off, forgetful of his privilege of wearing it; and then put it on hurriedly, as though the fact of his not wearing it must have been observed by everybody.  At last, at about two, the debate was adjourned, and then as he was slowly leaving the House, thinking how he might creep away without companionship, Mr. Monk took him by the arm.

“Are you going to walk?” said Mr. Monk.

“Yes”, said Phineas; “I shall walk.”

“Then we may go together as far as Pall Mall.  Come along.”  Phineas had no means of escape, and left the House hanging on Mr. Monk’s arm, without a word.  Nor did Mr. Monk speak till they were out in Palace Yard.  “It was not much amiss,” said Mr. Monk; “but you’ll do better than that yet.”

“Mr. Monk,” said Phineas, “I have made an ass of myself so thoroughly, that there will at any rate be this good result, that I shall never make an ass of myself again after the same fashion.”

“Ah!—­I thought you had some such feeling as that, and therefore I was determined to speak to you.  You may be sure, Finn, that I do not care to flatter you, and I think you ought to know that, as far as I am able, I will tell you the truth.  Your speech, which was certainly nothing great, was about on a par with other maiden speeches in the House of Commons.  You have done yourself neither good nor harm.  Nor was it desirable that you should.  My advice to you now is, never to avoid speaking on any subject that interests you, but never to speak for above three minutes till you find yourself as much at home on your legs as you are when sitting.  But do not suppose that you have made an ass of yourself,—­that is, in any special degree.  Now, good-night.”

CHAPTER XXVII

Phineas Discussed

Lady Laura Kennedy heard two accounts of her friend’s speech,—­and both from men who had been present.  Her husband was in his place, in accordance with his constant practice, and Lord Brentford had been seated, perhaps unfortunately, in the peers’ gallery.