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inferior.”
    “Still, I think it foolish the way the Luddites set about righting what is certainly a grave wrong—forming groups to smash the machines. There must be a more sensible way to solve the matter. Who is this Captain Ludd who has organized the workers? Is he an actual person?”
    “He is a general now, if you please—General Ned Ludd. Well, he is areal person, but a sort of village idiot from Leicestershire. He was chasing some children who were tormenting him one day, and followed them into their home, where they managed to hide from him. He vented his anger on their parents’frames, and so now, whenever machinery is destroyed, it is said to be done by General Ludd, no matter who actually did it. It preserves anonymity for the workers.”
    “Violence is no answer. It begets more violence, and we’ll end up with a civil war on our hands.”
    “Try if you can convince the government of it in London. When the workers were prevented by law from setting up a trade union, they formed an ‘Institution,’using the pretext of its being a sick club to tend to the needs of members out of work through illness. The Institution went to London to present its case to the Parliamentary Committee on the Woolen Trade, and the members were treated little better than criminals. They had some good ideas, too, such as a tax on woolen goods to help tide the unemployed workers over till they could find some other work. And even when frameworkers got a weak bill through the Commons, it was thrown out by the Lords. No alternative was left to them but violence.”
    “That’s the Tories for you.”
    “Yes. With the mill-owners holding the majority of the votes, a Tory member was returned and the rioting was pretty-well squelched by the army, but it was an infamous thing. It turned many people into Whigs, my aunt and myself included. But we are not informed Whigs; it is a reaction against the Tories rather. All this business will have little influence on the election here, I suppose. What do you see as the issues in this by-election?”
    “We’ll make it local issues,”he said.
    “ Make it? But surely there are real issues that ought to be discussed. You can’t just make issues.”
    “Concentrate on local issues, I mean. People are interested in what goes on in their own back yards more than in what is going on in the country as a whole. Well, you just proved it, didn’t you, by saying your election was fought on the issue of the Luddite riots? This is a farming community; the Luddites will not interest them. It is the damned—excuse me—the price of corn that will be one issue certainly.”
    “And a poor one for you! The farmers are all in favor of the Corn Laws the Tory government passed. It is good for their pockets, guaranteeing them ten shillings a bushel.”
    “I am aware of it, and foresee the need of another issue as well.”
    “What does Mr. Fellows suggest?”she asked, wondering if Mr. Hudson had had more luck talking to him than they had themselves.
    “He mentions the war quite often, but I see no gain to be got from that. It’s over. Of course there are the veterans who are not treated well. Very likely that’s what he meant.”
    She gave him a commiserating smile that implied she understood his predicament in trying to get a man of such small understanding elected. “How does it come Mr. Fellows was chosen to run?”she asked.
    “It was Lord Allingham’s suggestion. He is influential inthese parts. They had difficulty in getting a local man to run, for the riding has been Tory for years. We didn’t like to waste a good man—that is, a man who might have a better chance of winning a seat elsewhere, a man who is a little known nationally. Fellows is a good man. We feel ourselves fortunate that he agreed to stand.”
    Lillian regarded him closely but could see no irony or humor in his foolish statement. She deduced that Mr. Hudson was either a humbug or a fool, although he did not speak like a fool.