Veneering finishes with this last success, and Mr
Podsnap telegraphs to Mrs Veneering, ‘He’s
down.’
Then, dinner is had at the Hotel with the legal gentleman,
and then there are in due succession, nomination,
and declaration. Finally Mr Podsnap telegraphs
to Mrs Veneering, ‘We have brought him in.’
Another gorgeous dinner awaits them on their return
to the Veneering halls, and Lady Tippins awaits them,
and Boots and Brewer await them. There is a modest
assertion on everybody’s part that everybody
single-handed ‘brought him in’; but in
the main it is conceded by all, that that stroke of
business on Brewer’s part, in going down to the
house that night to see how things looked, was the
master-stroke.
A touching little incident is related by Mrs Veneering,
in the course of the evening. Mrs Veneering is
habitually disposed to be tearful, and has an extra
disposition that way after her late excitement.
Previous to withdrawing from the dinner-table with
Lady Tippins, she says, in a pathetic and physically
weak manner:
’You will all think it foolish of me, I know,
but I must mention it. As I sat by Baby’s
crib, on the night before the election, Baby was very
uneasy in her sleep.’
The Analytical chemist, who is gloomily looking on,
has diabolical impulses to suggest ‘Wind’
and throw up his situation; but represses them.
’After an interval almost convulsive, Baby curled
her little hands in one another and smiled.’
Mrs Veneering stopping here, Mr Podsnap deems it incumbent
on him to say: ‘I wonder why!’
‘Could it be, I asked myself,’ says Mrs
Veneering, looking about her for her pocket-handkerchief,
’that the Fairies were telling Baby that her
papa would shortly be an M. P.?’
So overcome by the sentiment is Mrs Veneering, that
they all get up to make a clear stage for Veneering,
who goes round the table to the rescue, and bears
her out backward, with her feet impressively scraping
the carpet: after remarking that her work has
been too much for her strength. Whether the fairies
made any mention of the five thousand pounds, and
it disagreed with Baby, is not speculated upon.
Poor little Twemlow, quite done up, is touched, and
still continues touched after he is safely housed
over the livery-stable yard in Duke Street, Saint
James’s. But there, upon his sofa, a tremendous
consideration breaks in upon the mild gentleman, putting
all softer considerations to the rout.
’Gracious heavens! Now I have time to think
of it, he never saw one of his constituents in all
his days, until we saw them together!’
After having paced the room in distress of mind, with
his hand to his forehead, the innocent Twemlow returns
to his sofa and moans:
’I shall either go distracted, or die, of this
man. He comes upon me too late in life.
I am not strong enough to bear him!’
