Читать книгу The Dawn of Reckoning - James Hilton - Страница 28

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Philip had never been to Loamport until the day on which he delivered his first speech there. Sir Charles Maddison, the local magnate of those parts had asked him, his mother, and Stella to Loamport Hall for the week-end, and on the Saturday night of their arrival there was to be a "monster" political rally at which Sir Charles had arranged for Philip to speak. It was to be his "début," as Sir Charles optimistically put it, before his future constituents. And, since Loamport politics were apt to be turbulent, the sooner he got into the swing of them the better.

The huge industrial city, grim enough at any time, was especially grim upon the first Saturday in December. The train brought them in four hours from Euston, and as they stepped out on to the platform Sir Charles's chauffeur was waiting to drive them through the darkening streets to the Hall. Even the country-side when they reached it was dour and unbeautiful, with gaunt chimney-stacks and mining-gear disfiguring the landscape and blur ring the horizon with smoke. Loamport Hall was a house in sympathy with its surroundings—gloomy and forbidding, with vast empty gardens and smoke-stained conservatories.

"If you get in Parliament for Loamport will you have to live there?" asked Stella, as they drove up to the porch.

Philip laughed. "Don't you trouble about that. I've got to get elected first, and I don't think I've a dog's chance. Loamport's one of the hardest constituencies in England."

"Then why bother with it? Why not try an easy one?—Chassingford would be rather nice, and everybody would vote for you there."

"Very possibly. But you see, Colonel Dumbleby mightn't like being turned out to make room for me. Otherwise, it's a splendid idea."

She made a grimace and then, deliberately imitating her famous remark of years before, added: "It is a joke, eh?—Ah, well, Philip, it seems to me you've been given Loamport because nobody else will have it."

"Exactly. In politics they have the curious habit of giving you the most difficult job right at the beginning."

The meeting was to be held in the Town Hall at eight o'clock, with Sir Charles Maddison in the chair. Other speakers were to be neighbouring M.P.'s, but whereas they were restricted to a time-limit, Sir Charles gave Philip to understand that he could go on as long as he liked. "And I've no doubt that if you manage pretty well our Association will be pleased to have you. I've given them excellent reports of you, so they're anticipating something good."

Philip said quietly: "You oughtn't to have told me that. If will make me nervous."

Sir Charles laughed. "Oh, you needn't be afraid. A Loamport audience may be a bit rough, but they're decent fellows—even the other side. Once when a heckler kept worrying me I ran down off the platform to him, hauled him up by the scruff of the neck, and made him address the meeting himself. I've always had decent hearings since then...Good old Loamport—they keep on voting the wrong man in, but still, I don't care what you say—there's not a fairer, decenter set of people in all England."

He spoke of them affectionately, as an indulgent father might speak of his children.

"Anyhow, Sir Charles," remarked Mrs. Monsell, decisively. "Nothing will induce me to go to the meeting. I hate politics. I shall stay here and play billiards with your butler, if he'll give me a game..."