“I have a great deal to tell you.”

“I’m so glad!” exclaimed Iris, who had been sinking into a disheartened silence.  “I began to fear nothing interesting had happened.”

“Have patience.  Presently.”

After that, the meal was quickly finished; they passed into the drawing-room, and took comfortable chairs on either side of the hearth.  May had brought cold, clammy weather; a sky of billowing grey and frequent gusts against the window made it pleasant here by this bright fireside.  Lashmar stretched his legs, smiled at the gimcracks shelved and niched above the mantelpiece, and began talking.  His description of Lady Ogram was amusing, but not disrespectful; be depicted her as an old autocrat of vigorous mind and original character, a woman to be taken quite seriously, d well worth having for a friend, though friendship with her would not be found easy by ordinary people.

“As luck would have it, I began by saying something which might have given her mortal offence.”  He related the incident of the paper-mill.  “Nothing could have been better.  She must be sickened with toadyism, and I could see she found my way a refreshing contrast.  It made clear to her at once that I met her in a perfectly independent spirit.  If we didn’t like each other, good-bye, and no harm done.  But, as it proved, we got on very well indeed.  In a fortnight’s time I am to go down and stay at Rivenoak.”

“Really?  In a fortnight?  She must have taken to you wonderfully.”

“My ideas interested the old lay as I thought perhaps they might.  She’s very keen on political and social science.  It happens, too, that she’s looking about for a Liberal candidate to contest Hollingford at the next election.”

Dyce added this information in a very quiet, matter-of-fact voice, his eyes turned to the fire.  Upon his hearer they produced no less an effect than he anticipated.

“A Liberal candidate!” echoed Iris, a-quiver with joyous excitement.  “She wants you to go into Parliament!”

“I fancy she has that idea.  Don’t make a fuss about it; there’s nothing startling in the suggestion.  It was probably her reason for inviting me to Rivenoak.”

“Oh, this is splendid—­splendid!”

“Have the goodness to be quiet,” said Dyce.  “It isn’t a thing to scream about, but to talk over quietly and sensibly.  I thought you had got out of that habit.”

“I’m very sorry.  Don’t be cross.  Tell me more about it.  Who is the present member?”

Dyce gave an account of the state of politics at Hollingford, sketching the character of Mr. Robb on the lines suggested by Breakspeare.  As she listened, Mrs. Woolstan had much ado to preserve outward calm; she was flushed with delight; words of enthusiasm trembled on her lips.

“When will the election be?” she asked in the first pause.

“Certainly not this year.  Possibly not even next There’s plenty of time.”