what it may. He owes it to himself to sacrifice himself, if it comes to
that."

"I'm with you too," I answered, "over boot and spur." Her enthusiasm was
contagious, and unnecessary.

"Oh, he'll stick," she began again after consultation with the parasol
fringe. "You'll hear him after a minute. It's a field day to-day.
You'll miss the other heavy guns if you stop with me. I do it
ostentatiously--wait until they've done. They're all trembling; all of
them. My husband will be on the platform--trembling too. He is a type of
them. All day long and at odd moments at night I talk to him--out-talk
him and silence him. What's the state of popular feeling to him? He's
for the country, not the town--this sort of thing has nothing to do with
him. It's a matter to be settled by Jews in the City. Well, he sees it
at night, and then in the morning the papers undo all my work. He begins
to talk about his seat--which _I_ got for him. I've been the 'voice of
the county' for years now. Well, it'll soon be a voice without a
county.... What is it? 'The old order changeth.' So, I've arranged it
that I shall wait until the trembling big-wigs have stuttered their
speeches out, and then I'm going to sail down the centre aisle and
listen to Churchill with visible signs of approval. It won't do much
to-day, but there was a time when it would have changed the course of an
election.... Ah, there's Effie's young man. It's time."

She rose and marched, with the air of going to a last sacrifice, across
the deserted sward toward a young man who was passing under the calico
flag of the gateway.

"It's all right, Willoughby," she said, as we drew level, "I've found