"Not if I can sit somewhere at your feet and look up at you," said Foe. "I'm not at all certain that I approve of your candidate, either, or his political platform--" "Our Mr. Farrell, Professor? Oh, surely!--" the little steward expostulated. "But maybe you've never made Mr. Farrell's acquaintance, sir?" "Never set eyes on him, to my knowledge," Foe assured him. "Then, Professor--if I may make bold to say so--it's impossible to disapprove of Mr. Farrell. He's a bit what-you-might-call _opportunist_ in his views; but, for the gentleman himself, he wouldn't hurt a fly--not a headache in a hogshead of him, as the saying goes. . . . Certainly, Sir Roderick, if you're ready. . . . Mr. Byles, here, will conduct the Professor to a chair close under the platform. We usually keep a few front seats vacant, for friends and--er--eventualities." "I'm an eventuality," said Foe. "You'll be one of _us_, sir, before you've finished, never fear!" the little steward promised genially. We entered amid salvos of applause, again and again renewed. It was none of our earning nor intended for us. Jenkinson (I was afterwards told) had varied his peroration with a local allusion very cleverly introduced. "They probably knew him" (he said)--"those, at any rate, who happened to live near Kennington probably knew him--for one who earned his living by a form of sport, by a mere game, if they preferred so to call it." (Cheers.) "He was not there to defend himself, still less to defend cricket." (Hear, hear.) "He would only say that cricket was a game which demanded some skill and-- especially when one bowled at the Oval" (loud cheers) "against Surrey" (cheers loud and prolonged)--"often some endurance." (Laughter.) "He would add that cricket was a thoroughly English game." (Renewed cheers.) "Why do I mention cricket to-night, sir?"--Jenkinson swung round and demanded it of the Chairman, who hadn't a notion. "I mention it, sir, because players have sometimes said to me, 'Jenkinson, I wonder you always seem to enjoy yourself at the Oval.' 'Why not?' says I; 'the crowd's friendly and the pitch perfect.' 'That's just it,' they say; 'perfect to break a bowler's heart.' 'Never you mind.' I answers: 'Tom Jenkinson, when he gets into Surrey, isn't out for averages.'" (Can't you hear the cheers at that?) "'He's out for fine art and a long day at it in pleasant surroundings: and,' I winds up, 'if you reckon I sometimes take a while, down there, to bowl a man _out_, just you wait till I come down and help to bowl a man _in_!' Your servant, Mr. Farrell!" Neat, eh? Well, we made our entrance right on top of it: and though the great Bath was no more than three-parts full, you couldn't see a vacant seat, the audience rocked so.