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Updated: June 21, 2025
Brooks was hopelessly bewildered, and showed it. "She lives with her uncle in Medchester. He is a builder and timber merchant." Lord Arranmore was silent for a moment. "Her father, then, is dead?" he asked. "He died abroad, I think," Brooks answered, "but I really am not sure. I know very little of any of them." Lord Arranmore turned away.
It's a hard thing to say, but somehow I'm a bit disappointed with them." She looked at him in something like amazement. "Yes, disappointed," he continued. "That's the word. I'm an uneducated man myself any fool can see that but I did all I could to have them girls different. They've been to the best school in Medchester, and they've been abroad.
Brooks," she said, presently, "you are busy with this election, and you are brought constantly into touch with all classes of people. Can you tell me why it is that it is so hard just now for poor people to get work? Is it true, what they tell me, that many of the factories in Medchester are closed, and many of those that are open are only working half and three-quarter time?"
"We are neighbours, you know, Mr. Bullsom," he said, "at Medchester. I met your niece there, and recognized her at once, though she was a little slip of a girl when I knew her last. Her father and I were in Montreal together." "God bless my soul," Mr. Bullsom exclaimed, in much excitement. "It's your lawyers, then, who have been advertising for Mary?" Lord Arranmore bowed.
You still keep up your interest in Medchester, then?" "Why, yes!" he answered. "Between ourselves, if I could choose, I would rather, when the time comes, stand for Medchester than anywhere." "I am glad! I should like to see you Member for Medchester. Do you know, even now, although I am so happy, I cannot think about the last few months there without a shudder.
For the first time in many years it seemed certain that the Conservatives had lost their hold upon the country. The times were ripe for a change of any sort. An ill-conducted and ruinous war had drained the empire of its surplus wealth, and every known industry was suffering from an almost paralyzing depression Medchester, perhaps, as severely as any town in the United Kingdom.
"The only elucidation from outside seems to be a change of climate," he mused. "I should prefer to think of something more original. In the meantime I will write to that misguided young man in Medchester." He drew paper and pen towards him and began to write. Even his handwriting seemed a part of the man cold, shapely, and deliberate. "My DEAR BROOKS, "I have been made acquainted through Mr.
"You came in after us, I think." She shook her head. "No, I have a class on Wednesday evening." "A class!" he repeated, doubtfully. Mr. Bullsom, who thought he had been out of the conversation long enough, interposed. "Mary calls herself a bit of a philanthropist, you see, Mr. Brooks," he explained. "Goes down into Medchester and teaches factory girls to play the piano on Wednesday evenings.
Molyneux and Brooks drove in together to Medchester, and the former was disposed for him to be talkative. "Queer thing about Lacroix turning up," he remarked. "I fancy our host looked a bit staggered." "It was enough to surprise him," Brooks answered. "From Lake Ono to Medchester is a long way." Molyneux nodded. "By Jove, it is," he affirmed. "Queer stick our host. Close as wax.
From his speeches he seemed such an excellent candidate." "He was a magnificent candidate," Brooks said ruefully, "but a shocking Member. I am afraid what I heard in the City the other day must have some truth in it. They say that he only wanted to be able to write M.P. after his name for this last session to get on the board of two new companies. He will never sit for Medchester again."
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