Purdy, his only
confidant, went about swearing at himself for having let the few he
owned lapse; and Mahony itched to sell. He could now have banked two
hundred and fifty pounds.
But Ocock laughed him out of countenance--even went so far as to pat
him on the shoulder. On no account was he to think of selling. "Sit
tight, doctor . . . sit tight! Till I say the word."
And Mahony reluctantly obeyed.
Chapter IX
In the course of the following winter John Turnham came to stand as one
of two candidates for the newly proclaimed electoral district of
Ballarat West.
The first news his relatives had of his intention was gleaned from the
daily paper. Mahony lit on the paragraph by chance one morning; said:
"Hullo! Here's something that will interest you, my dear," and read it
aloud.
Polly laid down her knife and fork, pushed her plate from her, and went
pink with pleasure and surprise. "Richard! You don't mean it!" she
exclaimed, and got up to look over his shoulder. Yes, there it was--
John's name in all the glory of print. "Mr. John Millibank Turnham, one
of the foremost citizens and most highly respected denizens of our
marvellous metropolis, and a staunch supporter of democratic rights and
the interests of our people." Polly drew a deep breath. "Do you know,
Richard, I shouldn't wonder if he came to live on Ballarat--I mean if
he gets in.--Does Trotty hear? This is Trotty's papa they're writing
about in the papers.
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