‘So you’ve come here for my vote, have you?’ said Mr. Tom.

‘Why, no; not exactly that,’ Mr. Andrew answered, blinking and passing it by.

Jonathan brought the fresh pint, and Tom filled for himself, drank, and said emphatically, and with a confounding voice: 

‘Your women have been setting you on me, sir!’

Andrew protested that he was entirely mistaken.

‘You’re the puppet of your women!’

’Well, Tom, not in this instance.  Here’s to the bachelors, and brother Tom at their head!’

It seemed to be Andrew’s object to help his companion to carry a certain quantity of Port, as if he knew a virtue it had to subdue him, and to have fixed on a particular measure that he should hold before he addressed him specially.  Arrived at this, he said: 

’Look here, Tom.  I know your ways.  I shouldn’t have bothered you here; I never have before; but we couldn’t very well talk it over in business hours; and besides you’re never at the Brewery till Monday, and the matter’s rather urgent.’

‘Why don’t you speak like that in Parliament?’ the old man interposed.

‘Because Parliament isn’t my brother,’ replied Mr. Andrew.  ’You know, Tom, you never quite took to my wife’s family.’

‘I’m not a match for fine ladies, Nan.’

’Well, Harriet would have taken to you, Tom, and will now, if you ’ll let her.  Of course, it ’s a pity if she ’s ashamed of—­hem!  You found it out about the Lymport people, Tom, and, you’ve kept the secret and respected her feelings, and I thank you for it.  Women are odd in those things, you know.  She mustn’t imagine I ’ve heard a whisper.  I believe it would kill her.’

The old gentleman shook silently.

’Do you want me to travel over the kingdom, hawking her for the daughter of a marquis?’

’Now, don’t joke, Tom.  I’m serious.  Are you not a Radical at heart?  Why do you make such a set against the poor women?  What do we spring from?’

‘I take off my hat, Nan, when I see a cobbler’s stall.’

’And I, Tom, don’t care a rush who knows it.  Homo—­something; but we never had much schooling.  We ’ve thriven, and should help those we can.  We’ve got on in the world . . .’

‘Wife come back from Lymport?’ sneered Tom.

Andrew hurriedly, and with some confusion, explained that she had not been able to go, on account of the child.

‘Account of the child!’ his brother repeated, working his chin contemptuously.  ‘Sisters gone?’

‘They’re stopping with us,’ said Andrew, reddening.

‘So the tailor was left to the kites and the crows.  Ah! hum!’ and Tom chuckled.

‘You’re angry with me, Tom, for coming here,’ said Andrew.  ’I see what it is.  Thought how it would be!  You’re offended, old Tom.’

‘Come where you like,’ returned Tom, ’the place is open.  It’s a fool that hopes for peace anywhere.  They sent a woman here to wait on me, this day month.’