Robin hastened away to the Hide-and-Tallow Works, whence, during the dinner-hour, he charmed many an oleaginous elector to come and plump for Inglethwaite, the Man Whom He Knew and Who Knew Him. Gerald and Donkin, smothered in violets and primroses, were personally conducting a sort of tumbril, which dashed across my field of vision from time to time, sometimes full, sometimes empty, but always at full gallop. Election "incidents" were plentiful. I was standing in the principal polling-station at one time, when a gentleman called Hoppett, a cobbler by persuasion--I think I have already mentioned him as the benignant individual who used to come to the door of his establishment and pursue me with curses down the street--came out from recording his vote. He did not see me, but caught sight of Robin, who had just arrived with a _posse_ of electors, and was standing by the Returning Officer's table. Hobbling up, the cobbler shook a gnarled fist under my secretary's nose. "I've voted against your man," he shouted. "We're goin' to be rid of the lot of you this time. Set of reskils!... I've put my mark against Stridge, I have; and against Inglethwaite's name I've put a picture of a big boot--one of my own making, too! The big boot!" he screamed ecstatically--"that's what your man is a-going to get to-day. Set of----" Robin smiled benignantly upon him, and glanced at the Returning Officer. "You hear what this gentleman says?" he remarked. "I do," replied the official. "Is it not a fact that he has annulled his vote by making unnecessary marks on his voting-paper?" continued Robin solemnly. "That is so," assented the Returning Officer. "I'm afraid your vote won't count this time, Mr Hoppett. Good morning!" There was a roar of delighted laughter from friend and foe, and the fermenting Hoppett was cast forth. I succeeded in getting back to the hotel for ten minutes at luncheon-time. Dolly met me--pale, sleepless, but unbeaten. "The doctor is with her just now," she said. "She has been in fearful pain, poor kiddy; but he has given her a drug of some sort, and she is easier now." "Couldn't I see her, just a moment?" I said wistfully. "The answer to that question, sir," replied Dolly, "is in the negative." We both smiled resolutely at this familiar tag, and Dolly concluded-- "Kitty is lying down. I made her. But she is going to get up when they--I mean----" I detected a curious confusion in her voice. "When what?" I asked. "Nothing." I surveyed my sister-in-law uneasily "Are they expecting--a crisis, then?" "Yes--a sort of a one." "When?" Dolly seemed to consider. "About five," she said. "Hadn't I better be near, in case----?" "Where are you to be this afternoon?" "Hunnable." Dolly nodded her head reflectively. "When can you be back?" she asked. "I can do it by five, I should think." "That will be soon enough. The doctor said that if--you were wanted, it would be about then. Good-bye, old gentleman!"