I wish I could come and cheer you up. Politics are
a cursed trade. But never mind, Oliver is safely in, and as
soon as the Government is formed, I will come to Tallyn, and
we will laugh at these woes. I can't write at greater length
now, for Broadstone has just summoned me. You will have seen
that he went to Windsor this morning. Now the agony begins.
Let's hope it may be decently short. I am just off for town.
"Yours ever, John Ferrier."
Two days passed--three days--and still the "agony" lasted. Lord
Broadstone's house in Portman Square was besieged all day by anxious
journalists watching the goings and comings of a Cabinet in the making.
But nothing could be communicated to the newspapers--nothing, in fact,
was settled. Envoys went backward and forward to Lord Philip in
Northamptonshire. Urgent telegrams invited him to London. He took no
notice of the telegrams; he did not invite the envoys, and when they
came he had little or nothing of interest to say to them. Lord
Broadstone, he declared, was fully in possession of his views. He had
nothing more to add. And, indeed, a short note from him laid by in the
new Premier's pocket-book was, if the truth were known, the _fons et
origo_ of all Lord Broadstone's difficulties.
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