dead—the fellow, you know, that got the seat at the general election. He dropped down in London—disease of the heart, or something of that sort. Julia has her telegram, but I see it was in last night's papers."
"Imagine, Nick never mentioned it!" said Lady Agnes.
"Don't you know, mother?—abroad he only reads foreign papers."
"Oh, I know. I've no patience with him," her ladyship continued. "Dear Julia!"
"It's a nasty little place, and Pinks had a tight squeeze—107, or something of that sort; but if it returned a Liberal a year ago, very likely it will do so again. Julia, at any rate, se fait forte, as they say here, to put him in."
"I'm sure if she can she will," Grace reflected.
"Dear, dear Julia! And Nick can do something for himself," said the mother of this candidate.
"I have no doubt he can do anything," Peter Sherringham returned, good-naturedly. Then, "Do you mean in expenses?" he inquired.
"Ah, I'm afraid he can't do much in expenses, poor dear boy! And it's dreadful how little we can look to Percy."
"Well, I dare say you may look to Julia. I think that's her idea."
"Delightful Julia!" Lady Agnes ejaculated. "If poor Sir Nicholas could have known! Of course he must go straight home," she added.
"He won't like that," said Grace.
"Then he'll have to go without liking it."
"It will rather spoil your little excursion, if you've only
