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Updated: May 2, 2025
Griffenbottom went on with his cigar, and Mr. Pile sat picking his teeth before the fire, and making unpleasant little speeches. The judge, who had hurried into Percycross from another town, and who opened the commission on the Monday evening, did not really begin his work till the Tuesday morning.
"It is wanted, Sir Thomas." "It will make a good feeling in the town, Sir Thomas, and we don't know how soon we may have to go to work again." Sir Thomas was too weak in health to refuse. He gave the sovereigns, the five-pound-notes, and the half-crowns, and hurried back home as quickly as he was able. But things were almost worse with him at home than at Percycross.
Newton, we are so much obliged to you. Papa is going to stand for Percycross." That, or nearly that, was the form in which the ferns were received. Newton was quite contented. An excuse for entering the house was what he had wanted, and his excuse was deemed ample. Sir Thomas, who was disposed to be very civil to the stranger, had not much to say about his own prospects.
He added a postscript to his letter, in which he said that he believed the present sitting member, Sir Thomas Underwood, was intimately acquainted with the noble lord who presided at the Post Office. There were various interests at Percycross moved, brought together, weighed against each other, and balanced to a grain, and finally dovetailed.
Before Christmas had come, it seemed to Sir Thomas that there was not a place of divine worship in the whole of Percycross that was not falling to the ground in ruins. He had not observed it when he was there, but now it appeared that funds were wanted for almost every such edifice in the borough. And the schools were in a most destitute condition.
Mr. Trigger simply shrugged his shoulders. Sir Thomas, when he was alone, was very uncomfortable. While at Percycross he had extracted from Patience an idea that Ralph the heir and Clarissa were attached to each other, and he had very strongly declared that he would not admit an engagement between them.
The desire for the seat which had brought him to Percycross had almost died out amidst the misery of his position. Among all the men of his party with whom he was associating, there was not one whom he did not dislike, and by whom he was not snubbed and contradicted.
The real horseleeches felt that they could hardly get a good hold of him while he was lying at the Percycross inn. Attacks by letter were, they well knew, more fatal than those made personally, and they waited. The first that came was from Mr. Pabsby. Mr.
T'other chap wouldn't be of much account." "Mr. Pile, you're going a little too fast," said Trigger. "No, I ain't," said Mr. Pile. But for the moment he allowed himself to be silenced. "We don't like the looks of it at Percycross," said Mr. Spicer. "And why don't we like the looks of it?" asked Sir Thomas. "I don't know what your idea of pleasure is," said Mr.
Westmacott was living, and was forced to set up his radical staff at the Cordwainers' Arms. In one respect he certainly gained much by this persecution. The record of his election doings would have been confined to the columns of the "Percycross Herald" had he carried on his candidature after the usual fashion; but, as it was now, his doings were blazoned in the London newspapers.
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