serious occupation. Louise, the elder, whose budding resemblance to her
mother was already a protection against the over-amorous youths of the
town, was reading a political speech in the Times. Selina, who had
sandy hair, a slight figure, and was considered by her family the
essence of refinement, was struggling with a volume of Cowper, who had
been recommended to her by a librarian with a sense of humour, as a poet
unlikely to bring a blush into her virginal cheeks. Mr. Bullsom
looked in upon his domestic circle with pardonable pride, and with a
little flourish introduced his guest.

"Mrs. Bullsom," he said, "this is my young friend, Kingston Brooks. My
two daughters, sir, Louise and Selina." The ladies were gracious, but
had the air of being taken by surprise, which, considering Mr.
Bullsom's parting words a few hours ago, seemed strange.

"We've had a great meeting," Mr. Bullsom remarked, sidling towards the
hearthrug, and with his thumbs already stealing towards the armholes of
his waistcoat, "a great meeting, my dears. Not that I am surprised!
Oh, no! As I said to Padgett, when he insisted that I should take the
chair, 'Padgett,' I said, 'mark my words, we're going to surprise the
town. Mr. Henslow may not be the most popular candidate we've ever
had, but he's on the right side, and those who think Radicalism has had
its day in Medchester will be amazed.' And so they have been. I've
dropped a few hints during my speeches at the ward meetings lately, and
Mr. Brooks, though he's new at the work, did his best, and I can tell
you the result was a marvel. The hall was packed--simply packed. When
I rose to speak there wasn't an empty place or chair to be seen."

"Dear me!" Mrs. Bullsom remarked, affably. "Supper is quite ready, my
love."