“Exactly so,—­and of speaking members, God knows that we have enough.  And I suppose that these purblind sheep do have some occult weight that is salutary.  They enable a leader to be a leader, and even in that way they are useful.  We shall get a division on Thursday.”

“I understand that Gresham has consented to that.”

“So Ratler told me.  Palliser is to speak, and Barrington Erle.  And they say that Robson is going to make an onslaught specially on me.  We shall get it over by one o’clock.”

“And if we beat them?” asked Phineas.

“It will depend on the numbers.  Everybody who has spoken to me about it, seems to think that they will dissolve if there be a respectable majority against them.”

“Of course he will dissolve,” said Phineas, speaking of Mr. Gresham; “what else can he do?”

“He is very anxious to carry his Irish Reform Bill first, if he can do so.  Good-night, Phineas.  I shall not be down to-morrow as there is nothing to be done.  Come to me on Thursday, and we will go to the House together.”

On the Wednesday Phineas was engaged to dine with Mr. Low.  There was a dinner party in Bedford Square, and Phineas met half-a-dozen barristers and their wives,—­men to whom he had looked up as successful pundits in the law some five or six years ago, but who since that time had almost learned to look up to him.  And now they treated him with that courteousness of manner which success in life always begets.  There was a judge there who was very civil to him; and the judge’s wife whom he had taken down to dinner was very gracious to him.  The judge had got his prize in life, and was therefore personally indifferent to the fate of ministers; but the judge’s wife had a brother who wanted a County Court from Lord De Terrier, and it was known that Phineas was giving valuable assistance towards the attainment of this object.  “I do think that you and Mr. Monk are so right,” said the judge’s wife.  Phineas, who understood how it came to pass that the judge’s wife should so cordially approve his conduct, could not help thinking how grand a thing it would be for him to have a County Court for himself.

When the guests were gone he was left alone with Mr. and Mrs. Low, and remained awhile with them, there having been an understanding that they should have a last chat together over the affairs of our hero.  “Do you really mean that you will not stand again?” asked Mrs. Low.

“I do mean it.  I may say that I cannot do so.  My father is hardly so well able to help me as he was when I began this game, and I certainly shall not ask him for money to support a canvass.”

“It’s a thousand pities,” said Mrs. Low.

“I really had begun to think that you would make it answer,” said Mr. Low.

“In one way I have made it answer.  For the last three years I have lived upon what I have earned, and I am not in debt.  But now I must begin the world again.  I am afraid I shall find the drudgery very hard.”