and he glowered threateningly at two or three young men in white kids
and high shirt collars, who were known to prefer the opposing candidate.

Peterkin had finished his harrangue, and was wiping his wet face with
his handkerchief, when Arthur, who had listened to him with well-bred
attention, said:

'I thank you, Captain Peterkin, for your interest in my brother, who, if
he succeeds, will, I am sure, owe his success to your influence, and be
grateful in proportion. Perhaps you have a bill you would like him to
bring before the House?'

'No,' Peterkin said, with a shake of the head. 'My Bill is a little
shaver, eight or nine years old; too young to go from home, but'--and he
lowered his voice: a little--'I don't mind saying that if there should
be a chance, I'd like the post-office fust-rate. It would be a kind of
hist, you know, to see my name in print, Captain Joseph Peterkin, P.M.'

Here the conversation ended, and the aspirant for the post-office, who
had tired himself out, stepped aside and gave place to others who were
anxious to renew their acquaintance with Arthur. It was between one and
two o'clock in the morning when the party finally broke up, and, as the
Peterkins had been the first to arrive, so they were the last to leave,
and Mrs. Peterkin found herself again in the gentlemen's dressing-room,
looking after her wraps. But they were not there, and after a vain and
anxious search she said to her husband:

'Joe, somebody has stole my things, and 'twas my Indian shawl, too, and
gold-headed pin, with the little diamond.'