The poll is over, and the Parish Council for Mudford is at last a _fait
accompli_--or almost so. Yet, before I come to relate the story of the
polling, there are one or two matters which, as a conscientious
historian, I think I should not be justified in omitting.
As I ought to have mentioned before, I did not think it necessary or
expedient in my candidature to hold any public meetings. Speaking
broadly, I declared to win with Miss PHILL BURTT on _Canvassing_. It was
far otherwise with some of my fellow-candidates. BLACK BOB and his mates
(HARRY JORKINS and WILLIAM BROWN) got down from town a young glib-spoken
fellow, who made a magnificent speech, with a Gladstone peroration, that
was supposed to be worth any number of votes. BLACK BOB (I am told), in
proposing a vote of thanks to him, somewhat cruelly called him "a cool,
honest and straightforward lecturer." One of these briefless barristers,
no doubt. Mrs. LETHAM HAVITT and Mrs. ARBLE MARCH held a joint meeting
(not to be confounded with a meat tea) in support of women candidates,
addressed by six enthusiastic ladies who pointed out the various fields
of energy provided for woman by this new Engine of Reform. The vicar,
the squire, and I, alone out of the eight, contented ourselves with no
perfervid platform appeals.
I should also state that, as the poll grew nearer, my wife became
increasingly confident that I should be beaten--"and that, TIMOTHY," she
added, "you won't like." I pointed out (and I still think it was a
natural thing to do in the circumstances) that the most formidable
obstacle in the way of my succeeding was the apparent lack of interest
taken in the affair by my family. This made MARIA perfectly furious. I
needn't imagine I should bounce her into it that way; truth to tell, I
never for one moment did think so. She would go away and stay at our
town house with the girls till the whole affair was over--which she did.
So, uncheered by wifely counsel or daughterly devotion, I sallied forth
on the morning of the 17th to my Committee Rooms, thence to carry on the
last stage of this great contest. I plume myself upon the excellence of
my arrangements. Everywhere you were bidden (that is you would have been
if you had been at Mudford) to "Vote for WINKINS, the Local Candidate."
I am free to admit that there was nothing distinctive in this
description of myself. We were all local candidates, since we all lived
in the village itself. But this appeal to "local" feeling is always an
excellent card to play. I know in my own case that I secured five votes
at least from men who at the last General Election had voted for our
sitting Member because he was the "local candidate." Then I got some
boys to carry round a Big Loaf and a Little Loaf, adorned with suitable
placards, inciting persons, men and women, married and single, to vote
for me. I did this because I never knew of an election yet in which the
loaves did not play a prominent part. I was determined to leave no
electoral device--legitimate electoral device, of course, I mean--untried.
Except for the masterly precision and perfection of my arrangements, the
polling presented few incidents. There were the usual number of people
who did not find their names on the register, and who were consequently
turned away sorrowing. (By the way, is "and who" right? I am never
sure.) Equally, of course, there were some idiots who would put off
voting till it was too late, and found themselves shut out by one
minute.
At nine the poll closed: and the counting immediately commenced. I did
not feel equal to the strain of being present, and was represented by
Miss PHILL BURTT. I waited at the house in grim suspense. Suddenly I
heard wild cheering. Then a minute later Miss PHILL dashed up waving a
paper excitedly and shouting, "Hurrah! Top of the poll." And so it
proved to be. I, who had been last, was actually now first. Here are the
figures:--
TIMOTHY WINKINS, J.P. 219
G. TRAVIS-MERTON (the Squire) 203
ROBERT HEDGER (BLACK BOB) 203
HARRY JORKINS 195
WILLIAM BROWN 189
HENRY SANDFORD (the Vicar) 172
Mrs. LETHAM HAVITT 153 } Tie
Mrs. ARBLE MARCH 153 }
I had hardly grasped the significance of these figures when the crowd
surged up over the lawn. In a few brief, heartfelt words I thanked them.
The greatest moment of my life--should never forget this kind
appreciation on the part of those amongst whom I had lived, and amidst
whom I hoped to die--wished them all a merry Christmas and good night.
And so--they went--home.
The most curious point remains to be noticed. Mrs. LETHAM HAVITT and
Mrs. ARBLE MARCH tied for the last place. The Returning Officer declined
to give a casting vote. Oar Parish Council is to consist of seven
Members. The first six are easy enough to find out. The latest Mudford
puzzle is--Find the seventh.
I had nearly forgotten to add that my wife (who comes home to-morrow)
has written to say she hopes I'm satisfied now. Well, I am.
[Illustration: CAUTIOUS.
_Visitor_ (_at out-of-the-way Inn in the North_). "DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING
ABOUT SALMON-POACHING IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD?"
_Landlady_ (_whose son is not above suspicion_). "EH--NO, SIR. MAYBE
IT'S A NEW STYLE OF COOKING AS WE HAVEN'T HEARD OF IN THESE PARTS, AS
YOU SEE, SIR, WE ONLY DO OUR EGGS THAT WAY; AND"--(_brightening
up_)--"IF YOU LIKE 'EM, I CAN GET YOU A DISH AT ONCE!"]
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