"Cheer up, BEACH," says CRANBORNE, tugging at his moustache à la
GRANDOLPH; "you may depend upon me. Keep your eye on your young
friend, and he will pull you through."

"Thank you," said BEACH, with something more than his customary
effusive manner.

JACKSON toying round the table, packing and unpacking papers, looking
at his watch and the clock, vaguely whistling, and absently rubbing
his hands.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "You seem out of sorts."

[Illustration: Mr. P-rn-ll turns his Back on Public Opinion.]

"Matter!" he cried. "Why, twenty minutes to Six is the matter,
and here's all the work done and the House up. It's absolutely
demoralising; portends something uncanny. On Tuesday we got through
the Address in a single short sitting; yesterday, after meeting at
noon, had to adjourn for three hours and a half; filled up remainder
of time with bringing in Bills; To-day we have an Irish Land Bill
brought in and read a First Time, after a Debate confined to SAGE
OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE, and WILFRID LAWSON. Nothing like it seen for
sixteen years. If this kind of thing goes on, you know, we'll get all
the work of the Session done in three months, and perhaps done better
than when it took nine. It's the suddenness that knocks me over, TOBY.
They ought to be more considerate, and begin more gently."

Great commotion in Irish circles. Scene slightly shifted. It seems