“Some time!—­yes,” replied Mr. Carlyle; “but I did not say when.  I have no thoughts of it yet awhile.”

“You must allow us to put you in nomination—­you must, indeed, Mr. Carlyle.  There’s nobody else fit for it.  As good send a pig to the House as some of us.”

“An extremely flattering reason for proposing to shift the honor upon me,” laughed Mr. Carlyle.

“Well, you know what we mean, Carlyle; there’s not a man in the whole county so suitable as you, search it to the extremity of its boundaries—­you must know there is not.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” returned Mr. Carlyle.

“At any rate, we shall do it, for we have determined upon having you.  When you walk into West Lynne to-morrow, you’ll see the walks alive with placards, ‘Carlyle forever!’”

“Suppose you allow me until to-morrow to consider of it, and defer the garnishing of the walls a day later,” said Mr. Carlyle, a serious tone peeping out in the midst of his jocularity.

“You do not fear the expenses?”

It was but a glance he returned in answer.  As soon as the question had been put—­it was stupid old Pinner who propounded it—­they had felt how foolish it was.  And indeed the cost would be a mere nothing, were there no opposition.

“Come, decide now, Carlyle.  Give us your promise.”

“If I decide now, it will be in the negative,” replied Mr. Carlyle.  “It is a question that demands consideration.  Give me till to-morrow for that, and it is possible that I may accede to your request.”

This was the best that could be made of him, and the deputation backed out, and as nothing more could be done, departed to their several dinner-tables.  Mr. Dill, who had been present, remained rubbing his hands with satisfaction, and casting admiring glances at Mr. Carlyle.

“What’s the matter, Dill?” asked the latter; “you look as though you were pleased at this movement, and assumed that I should accept it.”

“And so you will, Mr. Archibald.  And as to the looking pleased, there’s not a man, woman or child in West Lynne who won’t do that.”

“Don’t make too sure, Dill.”

“Of which, sir—­of your becoming our member, or of the people looking pleased?”

“Of either,” laughed Mr. Carlyle.

He quitted the office to walk home, revolving the proposition as he did so.  That he had long thought of some time entering parliament was certain, though no definite period of the “when” had fixed itself in his mind.  He saw not why he should confine his days entirely to toil, to the work of his calling.  Pecuniary considerations did not require it, for his realized property, combined with the fortune brought by Barbara, was quite sufficient to meet expenses, according to their present style of living.  Not that he had the least intention of giving up his business; it was honorable, as he conducted it, and lucrative, and he really liked it.