“Oh! I really don’t know their names,” replied the M.D. “I think they are respectable persons, though.” “Have they a vote?” inquired the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee anxiously. “Yes, I think so,” said the M.D., referring to his watch. “They have been in the Town over an hour.” “Oh, that’s all right, then,” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee; “every one who has lived here for more than an hour is entitled to a vote. Bring them along; they may be useful. What’s your name?” he continued, turning to Boy. “My name is Cyril, but I am usually called Boy,” was the reply. “And yours?” asked the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee of the Wooden Soldier. “One-and-Nine, Your Honour,” replied he, saluting respectfully. “Rubbish, I didn’t ask your price,” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee impatiently. “I want to know your name.” “One-and-Nine, Your Honour,” repeated the Wooden Soldier. The Lord High Fiddle-de-dee stared at him for a moment, and then turned to M.D. and said, “Is this man a little----and he tapped his forehead inquiringly. “Yes; softening of the grain,” replied the M.D., nodding. “Ah, I thought so,” remarked the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee. “Never mind, bring him along; even lunatics can vote here, you know,” and linking his arm in that of the M.D. they proceeded down the street, followed by Boy and One-and-Nine. “He is a person of great dignitude, evidently,” whispered the Wooden Soldier, who was apparently greatly impressed by the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee’s aristocratic bearing. “And although he is rather abrupteous in his manner, I think I admirationise him, don’t you?” “Yes. He seems to be a very nice gentleman,” agreed Boy. “I wonder what we shall see and hear at the House of Words? Oh! I suppose this is it,” he continued, as they turned a corner, and an imposing-looking building surrounded by an excited crowd of people came in sight. The Lord High Fiddle-de-dee seemed to be a very well-known personage, and the crowd respectfully divided and allowed them to pass through to the entrance of the building, where an attendant opened the door and showed them along a corrider to another door marked Committee Room, which the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee opened and they all passed in. A number of grandly dressed individuals were walking about, or chatting in little groups as they entered. “Oh! here comes the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee,” cried some one directly they were inside the door. “Any news?” he inquired anxiously. The Lord High Fiddle-de-dee shook his head sadly. “Well, we are all here now, so we had better proceed to business; take your seats, please, gentlemen,” said a very important-looking gentleman in a red gown and wig, seated at the head of a long table on which were pens and paper arranged neatly before each chair.