"Well, it's expected that in about a couple of months' time there'll be a general election, Mr. Adams, and you know what that means! I wasn't far out when I said that the bowl would be pushed about at such a time as that, was I?" "That 'ee warn't, Muster Teesdale, that 'ee warn't! Not that we hold much wi' 'lections about here!" "That's 'cos there's no proper spirit of opp'sition," said Mr. Croke, who was accustomed to speak very loudly and freely on political matters, and who was delighted at seeing the conversation taking this turn; "that's 'cos there's no proper spirit of opp'sition," he repeated, looking round him, partly in triumph, partly to see if any antagonist were making ready net and spear. "They Tories is 'lowed to walk over the course and du just as pleases 'em!" "What sort of opp'sition could you expect, Muster Croke?" said Farmer Spalding, puffing at his long churchwarden. "What good could Lib'rals do in a borough like this here Brocksopp, for instance, where its factories, and works, and mills, and suchlike, are held by rich folk as ought to be Lib'rals and is Tories?" "Why ought they?" asked Mr. Croke; and while his interlocutor was gathering up his answer, old Croke added, "I'm all for argeyment! I'm a Tory mysel', as all my house have been, but I like to see a opp'sition in everything, and a proper fight, not one-sided 'lections, such as we have seen! Well, Muster Spalding, and why should our rich party folk be Lib'rals and not Tories?" "Because," said Mr. Spalding, fanning away the smoke from before him, and speaking with great deliberation--"because they sprung from the people, and therefore their symp'ties should be wi' those of whom they were afore they became rich." "Like enough, like enough, neighbour Spalding. That's what's called mo-rality, that is; but it's not common sense! Common sense is, that it's lucky they grew rich; they becam' Tories, which is the same thing as meaning they wanted their money taken care of." "Ay, ay, that's it, Croke!" said Farmer Adams. "You've just hit the way to put un! Lib'rals when they've got nothing and want everything, Tories when they've got something and want to take care of it." "Well, but what's Tories goin' to do this time?" asked Mr. Moule, a maltster in the town. "Our presen' member, Sir George Neal, won't stand again! Told me so his own self last time he was in town for quarter sessions--says he's too old. My 'pinion is his wife won't let un. He's a rum un, is Sir George, and when he gets up to London by himself, he goes it, they _du_ say!" "Nansense, Moule! I wunner at a man o' your sense talkin' such stuff," said Farmer Croke. "That's playin' the Lib'ral game, that is!--though I hey understood that Sir George won't come forrerd again." "And the Lib'rals is going to mek a tre-menjous struggle this time, I've heerd," observed Moule. "Who are they goin' to bring forrerd, hev you heerd?" asked Mr. Spalding with interest.