Both sides were hopeful, but neither could feel
confident. The children were a great success; the little Jutterlys drove
their chubby donkeys solemnly up and down the main streets, displaying
posters which advocated the claims of their father on the broad general
grounds that he was their father, while as for Hyacinth, his conduct
might have served as a model for any seraph-child that had strayed
unwittingly on to the scene of an electoral contest. Of his own accord,
and under the delighted eyes of half a dozen camera operators, he had
gone up to the Jutterly children and presented them with a packet of
butterscotch; "we needn't be enemies because we're wearing the opposite
colours," he said with engaging friendliness, and the occupants of the
donkey-cart accepted his offering with polite solemnity. The grown-up
members of both political camps were delighted at the incident--with the
exception of Mrs. Panstreppon, who shuddered.
"Never was Clytemnestra's kiss sweeter than on the night she slew me,"
she quoted, but made the quotation to herself.
The last hour of the poll was a period of unremitting labour for both
parties; it was generally estimated that not more than a dozen votes
separated the candidates, and every effort was made to bring up
obstinately wavering electors.
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