“No, no, no—that’s narrow, you know. Until my butler complains to me of your goods, Mr. Mawmsey,” said Mr. Brooke, soothingly, “until I hear that you send bad sugars, spices—that sort of thing—I shall never order him to go elsewhere.”
“Sir, I am your humble servant, and greatly obliged,” said Mr. Mawmsey, feeling that politics were clearing up a little. “There would be some pleasure in voting for a gentleman who speaks in that honorable manner.”
“Well, you know, Mr. Mawmsey, you would find it the right thing to put yourself on our side. This Reform will touch everybody by-and-by—a thoroughly popular measure—a sort of A, B, C, you know, that must come first before the rest can follow. I quite agree with you that you’ve got to look at the thing in a family light: but public spirit, now. We’re all one family, you know—it’s all one cupboard. Such a thing as a vote, now: why, it may help to make men’s fortunes at the Cape—there’s no knowing what may be the effect of a vote,” Mr. Brooke ended, with a sense of being a little out at sea, though finding it still enjoyable.