Walk up! walk up! vote for Fisher and economy! Hooray for Fisher! Down with the swell mob!" Amid such torrents of eloquence the cause of Fisher major was not likely to go by default.
Brinkman, too, was not without his champions, who, however, avoided set speeches and confined themselves to personalities and generalities, such as-- "Who cheats at Elections ?" "Oh, my hands, what a licking!" "How now--not me!" (Here Fisher minor coloured up.) "Look out, you chaps, there's a Classic cad blushing." "No! where?
won't he want a rest after it!" "Here comes Brinkman! Hooray for honesty and fair play! Hooray for the Moderns! Down with Wakefield's kids! Send 'em home to their mas!" "Shut up there! Sit down, you youngsters." Whereupon there fell a lull.
Fisher minor surveyed the scene with anxious trepidation.

If his brother were to lose now, it would be his--Fisher minor's--fault.

He would never be able to hold up his head again.

How he wished he had a dozen votes! "Strong muster," he heard some one say near him.

"I expect every fellow's here." "Except Rollitt." "Of, of course," said the other, with a laugh, "no one ever expects him." "Why not ?" said Fisher minor to himself.