‘Yes, I knew you would be. We men of genius always recognise each other. And now I’ll tell you why I am here. I’ve come to offer you my services as a public speaker. I was at your meeting the other night, and I saw what was wanted immediately. “Clever fellow,” said I to myself; “but too modest and retiring—not enough bounce and brag to fetch the general public.” Says I to myself: “I will do it for him; I am the boy for that kind of work; I am used to it.” Many a man has got into Parliament through me. Indeed, I have never known anyone fail who has secured my services, and you shall have ’em cheap. Five pounds for the week and board and lodging, and I make a speech for you every night. That’s what I call a fair offer. You hesitate. Well, suppose we say two pounds ten. I never made so low an offer before, but you are a man and a brother, and I would do for you what I would not do for anyone else.’ ‘I am afraid, Mr. Roberts,’ said Wentworth—‘I fear I must dispense with your services.’ ‘No, don’t say that; don’t stand in your own light, man. You don’t know what you’re refusing. I can almost guarantee your election. Let me begin to-night. Send the crier round to say that Mr. Roberts, the celebrated orator of the Temple Forum, will speak at your meeting. If I don’t astonish ’em I’ll eat my hat.’ A very battered one, by-the-bye, which it would have required rather a strong stomach to digest. ‘The fact is, Mr. Roberts,’ continued Wentworth, ‘I consider an election is purely a matter between a candidate and his constituents, and no one else has a right to interfere. I should be glad of all the local strength I could get. That would show the electors we’re in earnest in the matter; but as to getting strangers down from town to dazzle the people with rhetorical fireworks, I really don’t care about it. I really should not care to gain my election by such means. I think it great presumption even for a London committee, whether sitting at the Carlton or the Liberal Club, to seek to control the electors. It is something very serious to me, the freedom of election and the independence of the voters.’ ‘Sir, you take matters too seriously. We all know electioneering is humbug, and the biggest humbug wins.’ ‘I fear you and I could not agree, Mr. Roberts, and perhaps you had better take your talents to another quarter.’ ‘And you mean to say, then, that you have no occasion for my services?’ said the collapsing Roberts, who seemed to become smaller every minute. ‘I do, indeed.’ ‘Then, sir, I am sorry for you,’ said the indignant orator. ‘I came out of friendship; but I am a professional man, and I shall be under the unpleasant necessity of going to some other party. I believe Sir Watkin Strahan will be only too glad of my assistance.’ ‘By all means try him,’ said Wentworth.