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"It is the last time I shall let him go to an election," exclaimed his mother. "There I think you are going to extremes," said Mrs. Panstreppon; "if there should be a general election in Mexico I think you might safely let him go there, but I doubt whether our English politics are suited to the rough and tumble of an angel-child."

A storm of threatening, arguing, entreating expostulation broke from the baffled rescue party, but it made no more impression on Hyacinth than the squealing tempest that raged within the stye. "If Jutterly heads the poll I'm going to let the sow in. I'll teach the blighters to win elections from us." "He means it," said Mrs. Panstreppon; "I feared the worst when I saw that butterscotch incident."

The grown-up members of both political camps were delighted at the incident with the exception of Mrs. Panstreppon, who shuddered. "Never was Clytemnestra's kiss sweeter than on the night she slew me," she quoted, but made the quotation to herself.

"There is such a thing as letting one's aesthetic sense override one's moral sense," said Mrs. Panstreppon. "I believe you would have condoned the South Sea Bubble and the persecution of the Albigenses if they had been carried out in effective colour schemes. However, if anything unfortunate should happen down at Luffbridge, don't say it wasn't foreseen by one member of the family."

"The new fashion of introducing the candidate's children into an election contest is a pretty one," said Mrs. Panstreppon; "it takes away something from the acerbity of party warfare, and it makes an interesting experience for children to look back on in after years. Still, if you will listen to my advice, Matilda, you will not take Hyacinth with you down to Luffbridge on election day."