politics for? No. The letter is meant for me right enough."

"I can't understand it," said Dick.

Lord Banstead looked up from his paper.

"That the Rural District Council? I'm on the committee. Had a meeting
yesterday. I'm chairman of the silly rotters."

"Then your silly rotter of an honorary secretary," cried Dick angrily,
"has sent Austin the letter of invitation that was meant for me."

"Oh, no, he didn't," said Banstead. "It's all right. They chucked you,
old son. Now I remember. I promised to explain."

Dick turned aside. "Oh, you needn't explain," he said bitterly.

"But I must. They had their reasons, you know. They thought they'd
rather have a brainy nobleman like your brother than a good old rotter
like you. You're--"

"Oh, hold your tongue, Banstead," cried Austin, rising and putting his
hand on Dick's shoulder. "Really, my dear old Dick, you're the right
person to stand. They only thought a lawyer could help them--but I'm far
too busy--of course I decline. I'm deeply pained, Dick, at having hurt
you. I'll write to the committee and point out how much fitter, as a
country gentleman, you are for the duties than I am. They're bound
to ask you."

Dick swung away passionately, his lips quivering with anger and