“I rather think they’re hard to find anywhere nowadays.”

Mr. Wykes had made a gesture requesting attention, and was about to speak, when a boy came up to him and held out a telegram.

“What’s this?” murmured the Secretary, as he opened the envelope.  “Well, well, how very annoying!  Our lecturer of to-morrow evening can’t possibly keep his engagement.  No reason given; says he will write.”

“Another blank evening!” exclaimed Chown.  “This is most unsatisfactory, I must say.”

“We must fill it up,” replied the Secretary.  “I have an idea; it connects with something I was on the point of saying.”  He looked round the room cautiously, but saw only a young lad bent over an illustrated paper.  “There is some one,” he continued, subduing his voice, “who might possibly be willing to stand if Mr. Liversedge isn’t finally adopted as our candidate—­some one who, in my opinion, would suit us very well indeed.  I am thinking of young Mr. Quarrier, Liversedge’s brother-in-law, Mr. Sam Quarrier’s nephew.”

“I can’t say I know much for or against him,” said the draper.

“A barrister, I believe?” questioned Murgatroyd.

“Yes, but not practising his profession.  I happened to meet him in the train yesterday; he was coming to spend a few days with his relatives.  It occurs to me that he’s the man to give us a lecture to-morrow evening.”

The others lent ear, and Mr. Wykes talked at some length of Mr. Denzil Quarrier, with whom he had a slight personal acquaintance dating from a year or two ago.  He represented that the young man was of late become wealthy, that he was closely connected with people in high local esteem, that his views were those of a highly cultured Radical.  Mr. Chown, distrustful regarding any proposition that did not originate with himself, meditated with some intensity.  Mr. Vawdrey’s face indicated nothing whatever.  It was the dentist who put the first question.

“I should like to know,” he said, in his usual voice of studied inoffensiveness, “whether Mr. Quarrier is disposed to support the Female Suffrage movement?”

“If he is,” growled Mr. Vawdrey, with sudden emphasis, “he mustn’t expect my vote and interest.  We’ve seen enough in Polterham lately of the Female question.”

“Let it wait!  Let it wait!” came from the draper.  “The man,” he glared at little Murgatroyd, “who divides his party on matters of detail, beyond the range of practical politics, is an enemy of popular progress.  What I should desire to know is, whether Mr. Quarrier will go in heartily for Church Disestablishment?  If not—­ well, I for my humble self must Decline to consider him a Radical at all.”

“That, it seems to me,” began the dentist, “is distinctly beyond” ——­

But politic Mr. Wykes interrupted the discussion.

“I shall go at once,” he said, “and try to see Mr. Quarrier.  A lecture to-morrow we must have, and I think he can be persuaded to help us.  If so, we shall have an opportunity of seeing what figure he makes on the platform.”