Mr. Turnbull, indeed, did speak a word of caution.  He told Mr. Mildmay that he had lost his bill, good in other respects, because he had refused to introduce the ballot into his measure.  Let him promise to be wiser for the future, and to obey the manifested wishes of the country, and then all would be well with him.  In answer to this, Mr. Mildmay declared that to the best of his power of reading the country, his countrymen had manifested no such wish; and that if they did so, if by the fresh election it should be shown that the ballot was in truth desired, he would at once leave the execution of their wishes to abler and younger hands.  Mr. Turnbull expressed himself perfectly satisfied with the Minister’s answers, and said that the coming election would show whether he or Mr. Mildmay were right.

Many men, and among them some of his colleagues, thought that Mr. Mildmay had been imprudent.  “No man ought ever to pledge himself to anything,” said Sir Harry Coldfoot to the Duke;—­“that is, to anything unnecessary.”  The Duke, who was very true to Mr. Mildmay, made no reply to this, but even he thought that his old friend had been betrayed into a promise too rapidly.  But the pledge was given, and some people already began to make much of it.  There appeared leader after leader in the People’s Banner urging the constituencies to take advantage of the Prime Minister’s words, and to show clearly at the hustings that they desired the ballot.  “You had better come over to us, Mr. Finn; you had indeed,” said Mr. Slide.  “Now’s the time to do it, and show yourself a people’s friend.  You’ll have to do it sooner or later,—­whether or no.  Come to us and we’ll be your horgan.”

But in those days Phineas was something less in love with Mr. Quintus Slide than he had been at the time of the great debate, for he was becoming more and more closely connected with people who in their ways of living and modes of expression were very unlike Mr. Slide.  This advice was given to him about the end of May, and at that time Lord Chiltern was living with him in the lodgings in Great Marlborough Street.  Miss Pouncefoot had temporarily vacated her rooms on the first floor, and the Lord with the broken bones had condescended to occupy them.  “I don’t know that I like having a Lord,” Bunce had said to his wife.  “It’ll soon come to you not liking anybody decent anywhere,” Mrs. Bunce had replied; “but I shan’t ask any questions about it.  When you’re wasting so much time and money at your dirty law proceedings, it’s well that somebody should earn something at home.”

There had been many discussions about the bringing of Lord Chiltern up to London, in all of which Phineas had been concerned.  Lord Brentford had thought that his son had better remain down at the Willingford Bull; and although he said that the rooms were at his son’s disposal should Lord Chiltern choose to come to London, still he said it in such a way that Phineas, who went down to Willingford, could not tell