"There's nothing in the world worth having that hasn't to be worked for,
my boy," he declared, good-humoredly.

"By other people!" Brooks remarked, smiling.

"That's as it may be," Mr. Bullsom admitted. "To my mind that's where
the art of the thing comes in. Any fool can work, but it takes a shrewd
man to keep a lot of others working hard for him while he pockets the
oof himself."

"I suppose," the younger man remarked, thoughtfully, "that you would
consider Mr. Henslow a shrewd man?"

"Shrewd! Oh, Henslow's shrewd enough. There's no question about that!"

"And honest?"

Mr. Bullsom hesitated. He drew his hand down his stubbly grey beard.

"Honest! Oh, yes, he's honest! You've no fault to find with him, eh?"

"None whatever," Brooks hastened to say. "You see," he continued more
slowly, "I have never been really behind the scenes in this sort of
thing before, and Henslow has such a very earnest manner in speaking.
He talked to the working men last night as though his one desire in life
was to further the different radical schemes which we have on the
programme. Why, the tears were actually in his eyes when he spoke of
the Old Age Pension Bill. He told them over and over again that the
passing of that Bill was the one object of his political career. Then,