"
"We shan't descend on him."
"Then where shall you go?"
"We shall put up at the Tiger," said George, impressively.
"The Tiger?" gasped Mary.
George had meant to stagger, and he had staggered.
"The Tiger," he iterated.
"With Georgie?"
"With Georgie."
"But what will uncle say? I shouldn't be surprised if uncle has never
been in the Tiger in his life. You know his views--"
"I don't care twopence for your uncle," said George, again implicitly
blaming Mary for the peculiarities of her uncle's character.
"Something's got to be done, and I'm going to do it."
IV
Two days later, at about ten o'clock in the morning, Samuel Peel, J.P.,
entered the market-place, Bursley, from the top of Oldcastle Street. He
had walked down, as usual, from his dignified residence at Hillport. It
was his day for the Bench, and he had, moreover, a lot of complicated
election business. On a dozen hoardings between Hillport and Bursley
market-place blazed the red letters of his posters inviting the faithful
to vote for Peel, whose family had been identified with the district for
a century and a half. He was pleased with these posters, and with the
progress of canvassing.
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