A QUESTION OF POLICY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2520, 2 July 1902, Page 90

A QUESTION OF POLICY.

I> fine Cabinet Minister paced uneasily up Ina aWn his study. There was a look of jberplexity in his eyes, and a frown upon his prow; and anon, as he paused and gazed »t the well-lined bookshelves that crowded »ne side of the wall, no answering inspiration came to solve the great problem that narassed his mind. f_ Even the portrait of Beaconsfield in a favourite attitude, that occupied a promi* lent position in the apartment, failed to rive any comfort this afternoon. It was ruitless to put the question, "What would le have done under the circumstances?" for the present political situation was. without parallel. Slowly but surely tbe Ministry of wluch Sir Owen Wenham was so important a member was crumbling, its !all being only a question of months, perhaps weeks. Not that that troubled him to any great extent — no Government lasted for ever, and :his one had enjoyed a particularly long Lnings — but it was his own personal reputation as a statesman of which he was so jealous. As recently as two days ago he had occasion to differ from his colleagues Dn a vital point of policy, and to-night was Expected to make an important pronouncement at a great political meeting. What course should he pursue? Once pore he paced the study, and then casually iook up a copy of that morning's Times. fees, thers was a loophole, undoubtedly. Jlis absence might occasion disappointment ; certainly not surprise. He read the paragraph over again. "Sir Owen Wenham is, by his physician's still confined to his room ; but it is to be hoped he will have sufficiently recovered from his slight indispopition to fulfil £iis engagement at Metersfield this evening-" Such things as diplomatic colds wer,e not unknown. His might be made to serve a useful purpose, and so short a space as 24 hours has often brought about political rerotations.

Should he attend or not? The decision biust be made quickly, fpr if he l-esolved to adopt the former course in an hour's time he would have to catch the express to the Midland town. In either case he had promised to wire.

He touched the elcteric bell to summon his secretary, whom he imagined to be still BOiriewhere near, and then hesitatingly — hesitation was an unusual thing with him — began to fill up ja, telegraph-form. Hardly » second later there was a knock at the door, and. a bright voice exclaimed: I come in?" "Before Sir Owen had time to reply, a girl's arms were around his neck, and a dainty pair of lips kissing tbe rapidly-en-iarging bald spot at the back of her father's head.

He looked up, smiled, laid down his pen, and then frowned.

- "Isn't Drakefield about?" lie asked. "I for him." "He left jusfc now. I suppose he'll be back directly," she answered. "But, dearie" — wheeling round and kissing the wrinkled forehead— "what's the matter? Thinking out another silly speech?" He rose from his chair, and walked llowly towards the window. "Are all speeches silly, madam?" he inS aired, with affected severity. "Some are ot, I know. 1 ' Elsie Wenham shrugged her beautiful iboulders, and laughed coaxingly.

"Of course, I don't mean yours. I never hear or listen to others — political speeches, [ mean."

"Exactly ; or you might not have such a high opinion of your father's." "Oh, it's not that. Yours always take op three or four columns of the newspaper, pnd after that one somehow feels she's had snough. No, I don't mean that." "What, than, do you mean?" the baronet "nsked good-naturedly. "I always thought sfforts like Veering's appealed to you most, the reports are condensed into a few lines." "Oh, yes; but the speeches of Radicals are always amusing. Father, why can't you be a Radical?"

This time Sir Owen laughed aloud ; and then, returning to his desk, completed the lelegram he had been writing when the girl entered.

"When Drakefield comes, send him to me," he remarked.

"Yes. Oh ! there's someone downstairs (fishes to see you. I said I thought it rather an inopportune moment, just when off to Metersfield." "I'm not going." "Not going!" "Well, perhaps not" — crushing the teleiram in his hand. "Who is it? Why wasn't Lis card brought up in the ordinary way?" "It's Mr Veering." Sir Owen Wenham knit his brows. "Veering! Veering!" he repeated. "What e«n he want? Unless "

The girl took her father's arm, and looked *p pleadingly into bis face. "He's come for me," she murmured. "Isn't lhat what you expected?"

Tbe baronet sighed. "I have been expecting it," he answered Joldly. "Elsie, you know my opinions in the matter."

"What you tliink are your opinions — yes ! Dearie, don't you remember how often jpou've told me you married mother against the wishes of your friends, yet you never Regretted it? Isn't it because you were co fond of her you've never married again? j&nd what reason can you have against Arthur — Mr Veering? He's a rising man Wyou've often said so yourself." Sir Owen's manner gradually softened. "That is true ; but — but he's on the other fde," he answered.

"Which doesn't matter in the least. Such jfcings happen every day." "Well, then, I suppose I must think it (ivef,. I .cant see him now, I'm too busy.

Tell him to call some other time. When he's rendered some signal service to his country, then we can discuss the matter." The girl looked wistfully into his eyes, and there was a pleading tone in her voice as she murmured: "Axe you quite certain you don't wish to see him now?"

"Quite, darling— quite." And then briskly, as his mind reverted to the old topic : "Why, hasn't Drakefield returned yet?" Elsie moved towards the door, but the baronet called her back.

"One moment, dear. I want tins wire sent.'* He smoothed out the crumpled form, and handed it to the girl. '"Perhaps you'Jl see that it goes?" Certainly !" answered his daughter dutifully, and left. "A clever man — a clever man," murmured the baronet, as he watched the younc M.P. a few moment* later emerge from the nouse ; "but a pity his cleverness is misdirected, wasted — a great pity, to be sure."

"Mad! mad! — stark, staring, raving mad!" cried Arthur Veering, barrister and M.P., reading the telegram Elsie had exhorted him to despatch with all possible speed. "Sir Owen will shortly 'become the most unpopular man in England." 11. Metersfield was not disappointed. The eyes of the nation, if notof the world, were upon it, and it rose triumphantly to the occasion. The gentleman who combined with the honour of being tbe principal Conservative layman in the town the function of mayor, waited in resplendent garb on the platform for the arrival of the express, surrounded by equally gorgeously robed burgesses, all of whom were the admiration of the open-mouthed crowd behind." At last the signal changed colour, the crowd pressed the mayor and his satellites "perilously near the edge of the platform, and the train steamed slowly in. The door of a first -class carriage quickly opened, and Sir Owen Wenham, the man of the moment, alighted, unaccompanied. A cheer threatened the vast roof of the terminus, the mayor bowed, Sir Owen gracefully extended his hand, and was ceremoniously conveyed to a waiting carriage. Here, amid more cheering from; those who had been unable to obtain access to the station, a dozen stalwart men unharnessed the horses of the brougham, and, with the aid of a couple of ropes, triumphantly pulled Kir Owen to the town ball, escorted by a row of torch-bearers on either side. The organisation was perfect, a credit to Metersfield and all concerned.

Similar demonstrations met the great statesman as he entered the hall itself. Already the platform was fully occupied by supporters of both sexes, and at the moment Sir Owen stepped among them the vast audience rose simultaneously to their feet. Men waved their bate, and shouted till they became hoarse ; ladies stood on chairs, and, waving their flimsy cambrics, smiled and looked pleasant. Sir Owen meanwhile bowed mechanically, and then came a deep, reverberating note from the great organ above. The audience, frantic, took up the cue, and roared out "For he's a jolly good fellow " for all they were worth. After the inevitable three cheers, the lion of the hour sat down. The audience <lid likewise, and then listened impatiently to the feeble introductory remarks of the chairman. These at last over, he was understood to call upon their "distinguished and honoured guest — a bulwark ot the Empire." As Sir Ow«n rose, a repetition of the previous scene ensued, but at length the statesman raised a warning hand, and there succeeded an overwhelming silence . The baronet, it was noticed, was rather paler than was his wont ; and to those that knew him more intimately, the grey hairs in his beard seemed more numerous than usual.

As he commenced, by a grateful acknowledgment of the unprecedented reception he had received, it was apparent the cold from which he had been suffering had not entirely left him ; but as he swiftly passed en to matters of moment, tbe hoarseness wore off. One or two members of Parliament on the platform declared, indeed, he bad never been in better form, or heard to greater advantage.

And the substance of the speech was even more remarkable than its delivery. At the outset, Sir Owen struck the right note. He declaimed his position vigorously, making a bold and definite pronouncement- And that pronouncement set many of his colleagues in the Cabinet aside, but his hearers were forced to see the absolute tenability of his position. With a passion unusual for him, he poured forth a torrent of arguments that were unanswerable, till the legion of reporters beneath the platform gasped for breath and became agitated. The speech was frequently punctuated with applause, and Sir Owen Wenham, reaching the peroration, sat down amid a tumult of cheers, "having spoken for one hour and a-half," to quote the papers next morning. He was then noticed to whisper something to the chairman, who, rising, announced that Sir Owen begged them to excuse his immediate departure, being still uuder his physician's care. More cheers followed this statement, and after a few words of thanks Sir Owen left, amid the greatest popular demonstration that had been seen in that hall for many a long day.

Sir Owen breakfasted in bed the next morning. He had passed a restless night, tossing from side to side, with thoughts of the glaring error he had made the previous evening continually revolving in his mind. With an effort he had attempted to dismiss the matter, and concentrate his thoughts on other topics. He was, therefore, in an exceedingly nervous etate when a document was brought up to him which had been delivered by a messenger from his department. He tore open the envelope feverishly, and when he perused its contents, gave a groan. The earth seemed to sink beneath his feet, and he saw at once how a faulty judgment was already bearing fruit.

As the underlying importance of the matter came into Lis mind with further, caa-

sideration, the perspiration came to his forehead. He ought to have struck out a definite line of his own at once. It was true he could still do so, but it would 1-e useless now. If, instead of telegraphing lo Metersfield, stating he was too unwell to attend the meeting, he had, after all, delivered the speech he had hesitated to make, the situation would have been saved.

But regrets were useless. He rose wearily, dressed, and rang for the morning's papers. When they came, obeying custom, he first opened The Times, by instinct turning lo the centre pages, when his own name, in a, prominent position, stared him -in the face. He rubbea*his eyes. Surely the thing was a dream, a chimera of the broin. SIX OWEN WENHAM AT METER S-

FIELD. AN EPOCH-MAKING SPEECH A NEW POLICY DEFINED.

'"Sir Owen Wenham at Metersne'ld !"' "A new policy defined!" he repeated dazedly. "~What can it mean? I was never there, and "

He read word for word the scene at the station, the great reception~~accorded him at the Town Hall, described" in detail in all the florid phrases of the modern reporter. He read like one in st, dream of the welcome extended to his double, and then passed on to the speech itself. How had it all happened? He had sent a telegram saying he would be unable to attend the meeting, yet there was no mention of this in the papers. He took up the other journals and glanced them rapidly through. Each seemed to vie with the other in finding type sufficiently heavy to denote the importance of a speech he had never made ; but in all there was no reference to his having turned up unexpectedly at the eleventh hour. He thought a moment, and, remembering he had given the original message to his daughter, rang the bell. His secretary — Drakefield — came in response, and anxiously looked at his chief. He knew well enough Sir Owen had never left his room the previous evening, and was, in consequence, puzzled beyond measure at what was already the one theme of conversation everywhere. "I want Miss Elsie," said the baronet, gazing keenly into the young man'? face, and reading nothing there but surprise. 'Certainly, sir," responded Drakefield. And a minute later the girl entered her father's room.

Sir Owen scrutinised his daughter as keenly as he had his secretary, but her expression was innocent of guile. "Elsie," he asked, omitting any preliminary greeting, "who sent that telegram last night?" "I — I gave it to Mr Veering," she answered. "Oh !" This put a different complexion on matters altogether. The baronet strode the room several times, and then suddenly stopped short and faced his daughter. "Air Veering is downstairs, I think?' lie observed. "You can bring him up." Elsie looked astonished. She was unaware he knew of her suitor's presence in the house ; but, with a swift glance al him, obeyed witbout a word. Mr Veering, proceeding upstairs alone, bowed most humbly and apologetically to the well-known figure that confrontedNium. "I ti'ust you're well, Sir Owen?' he leniarked.

"Quite now — quite," the baronet answered. And then he stretched out a hand, which the other gripped heartily. "I was well aware," he continued, "that j our powers of mimicry were most remarkable — in fact, I've frequently noted them in the House."

Veering saw that the situation had been grasped. "It has met with your approval, I trust?"' he asked anxiously. The baronet relaxed, and laughed heartily. "Some would call it impertinence,' 1 he implied ; "but you've done me a signal service — a signal service. And I'm inclined to the opinion that such talent should not be kept outside the family — sh?" At that moment Elsie entered the room.