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Page 26
Mr Bickersdyke's introducer was an elderly Scotch peer, an excellent
man for the purpose in every respect, except that he possessed a very
strong accent.
The audience welcomed that accent uproariously. The electors of
Kenningford who really had any definite opinions on politics were
fairly equally divided. There were about as many earnest Liberals as
there were earnest Unionists. But besides these there was a strong
contingent who did not care which side won. These looked on elections
as Heaven-sent opportunities for making a great deal of noise. They
attended meetings in order to extract amusement from them; and they
voted, if they voted at all, quite irresponsibly. A funny story at the
expense of one candidate told on the morning of the polling, was quite
likely to send these brave fellows off in dozens filling in their
papers for the victim's opponent.
There was a solid block of these gay spirits at the back of the hall.
They received the Scotch peer with huge delight. He reminded them of
Harry Lauder and they said so. They addressed him affectionately as
'Arry', throughout his speech, which was rather long. They implored him
to be a pal and sing 'The Saftest of the Family'. Or, failing that, 'I
love a lassie'. Finding they could not induce him to do this, they did
it themselves. They sang it several times. When the peer, having
finished his remarks on the subject of Mr Bickersdyke, at length sat
down, they cheered for seven minutes, and demanded an encore.
The meeting was in excellent spirits when Mr Bickersdyke rose to
address it.
The effort of doing justice to the last speaker had left the free and
independent electors at the back of the hall slightly limp. The
bank-manager's opening remarks were received without any demonstration.
Mr Bickersdyke spoke well. He had a penetrating, if harsh, voice, and
he said what he had to say forcibly. Little by little the audience came
under his spell. When, at the end of a well-turned sentence, he paused
and took a sip of water, there was a round of applause, in which many
of the admirers of Mr Harry Lauder joined.
He resumed his speech. The audience listened intently. Mr Bickersdyke,
having said some nasty things about Free Trade and the Alien Immigrant,
turned to the Needs of the Navy and the necessity of increasing the
fleet at all costs.
'This is no time for half-measures,' he said. 'We must do our utmost.
We must burn our boats--'
'Excuse me,' said a gentle voice.
Mr Bickersdyke broke off. In the centre of the hall a tall figure had
risen. Mr Bickersdyke found himself looking at a gleaming eye-glass
which the speaker had just polished and inserted in his eye.
The ordinary heckler Mr Bickersdyke would have taken in his stride. He
had got his audience, and simply by continuing and ignoring the
interruption, he could have won through in safety. But the sudden
appearance of Psmith unnerved him. He remained silent.
'How,' asked Psmith, 'do you propose to strengthen the Navy by burning
boats?'
The inanity of the question enraged even the pleasure-seekers at the
back.
'Order! Order!' cried the earnest contingent.
'Sit down, fice!' roared the pleasure-seekers.
Psmith sat down with a patient smile.
Mr Bickersdyke resumed his speech. But the fire had gone out of it. He
had lost his audience. A moment before, he had grasped them and played
on their minds (or what passed for minds down Kenningford way) as on a
stringed instrument. Now he had lost his hold.
He spoke on rapidly, but he could not get into his stride. The trivial
interruption had broken the spell. His words lacked grip. The dead
silence in which the first part of his speech had been received, that
silence which is a greater tribute to the speaker than any applause,
had given place to a restless medley of little noises; here a cough;
there a scraping of a boot along the floor, as its wearer moved
uneasily in his seat; in another place a whispered conversation. The
audience was bored.
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