“Roodle’s not well liked here, and that’s what will matter most. There’re no strong feelings about you either way, but Roodle has alienated people in a number of ways. As soon as his brewery grew, he moved it out of Stirrington; he has a farm outside town and has been in a long legal battle with both of his neighbors; and whether it’s fair or not his father was known as the most tightfisted, intemperate sod in the county. He used to beat his horses and drove his wife like a donkey. Be that as it may, there’s no mistaking Roodle’s success. Half of Durham’s pubs are Roodle pubs. He also has one other great point, in local terms.”

“What’s that?” asked Hilary with some alarm.

“He’s from here. In the north we value our own, you see.”

Indeed, as they had walked that day about town Hilary and Lenox had seen numerous flyers on that subject. “Two weeks in Stirrington, or a lifetime? Who knows you better? Vote Roodle,” read one. “Vote your own-vote Roodle,” said another.

Lenox saw the fairness of the point. It was a strange political system that led to Hilary representing Liverpool, while the Liberal Party’s current leader in the House, William Gladstone, had grown up in Liverpool but for a long time represented Oxford, of all places. Still, he also believed that his platform would genuinely help the people of Stirrington more than Roodle’s, and he resented the negative, attacking nature of Roodle’s campaign. He was ready to fight.

Lenox’s own campaign handbills were, he thought, singularly effective; they advertised what they called his “Five Promises.” Crook had written it up, and Hilary (who was invaluable for this sort of task) had revised it. The only promise that both the printer and Crook had absolutely insisted upon keeping was for a lower tax on beer. This wasn’t self-interest, Crook rather defensively assured them, but the most important issue to many Stirringtonians.