To You, Mr Chips by James Hilton Read Free Book Online Page A

a noise outside of it, because you might disturb him when he's at work.'
    'At work?'
    'Yes, my goodness, and plenty of it. Didn't I tell you, my boy, he's trying to Get In? And you and me and your Aunt have all got to help him, otherwise the Other Candidate'll Get In!'
    This was the first time that Gerald had ever heard of the Other Candidate.
    Marvellous, mysterious days. Every morning when he came downstairs Gerald found Uncle Richard still up, and every night when he went to bed Uncle Richard was still down. Was it possible that he never had to go to bed at all? And every morning he tapped the barometer (Gerald knew all about that now) and made some queer remark that was supposed to be funny; at any rate, it made Uncle Richard himself laugh. One morning he said: 'Fine day for the race,' and Gerald pricked up his ears and said: 'What race?'
    Then Uncle Richard's face crinkled up suddenly. 'The human race,' he answered. He went on laughing at that until Aunt Flo said: 'Come and have some breakfast and stop plaguing the boy.'
    But Gerald wasn't plagued at all. He smiled at Uncle Richard to show that he appreciated the joke, whatever it was, and that, anyhow, he and Uncle Richard were on the same side in the great battle.
    The joy of being sure of this sharpened the joy of giving out bills and knocking at doors; there was also a song that the boys from the streets round about would sing:
     
'A Li-ber-al Tom Barton is,
And Li-ber-als are we,
We'll vote for Barton, all of us,
And make him our M.P.'
     
    Gerald liked this because he knew the tune (it was 'Auld Lang Syne'), but he couldn't understand all the words. However, the words of songs never mattered. But he did know that 'Tom Barton' was really wrong, so he always sang 'Sir Thomas,' very quietly to himself, so that he should be right without anyone hearing him.
    (And afterwards, when the Candidate had Got In, he would tell people that he owed it all to one person--someone who had helped him by handing out bills, and who had called him by his proper name all the time; moreover, he had a most important engagement in London, and though there was a special train with steam up waiting for him at Browdley station, no one would undertake to drive it fast enough to reach London in time. So Gerald cried out: ' I  will, Sir Thomas . . .' and Uncle Richard waved to him from the platform, as the huge engine--a Pacific Four-Six-Two, by the way--gathered speed . . .)
    'Is the Other Candidate a knight?' he once asked Uncle Richard.
    'Eh, what's that? Wuff-wuff--young Beale a knight? God bless my soul, no. A little jumped-up carpet-bagger, that's all  he  is.'
    The strangest things were happening all the time in that enchanted city of Browdley. Houses were decked with blue and red flags (blue, Gerald learned, was the Other Candidate's colour); windows were full of bills and cards; at every street corner in the evenings groups of people gathered, and sometimes a man got up and shouted at them, waving his arms about. Excitement filled the marketplace and ran along the streets; the little brown houses, doors wide open on to the pavements, were alive with eagerness and gossip and the knowledge of something about to happen. Gerald, walking about with Uncle Richard, could sniff the battle of Good and Evil in the air.
    'Well, Dick. D'ye think he'll get in?'
    'We're doing our best, Tom.'
    'It'll be a touch-and-go with him, anyway. T'other Candidate's gaining ground.'
    'A carpet-bagger, Tom, if ever there was one--a carpet-bagger.'
    'They do say he's got one o' them motorcars.'
    'He  would  have. Anything to make a noise.'
    In the morning the rumour was confirmed. The Other Candidate had a motor-car, and it was one of the very first motor-cars to appear in most of the streets of Browdley. Gerald, in secret, would not have minded looking at it; but because it belonged to the Other Candidate he pictured himself driving an express train and overtaking it, along a parallel road, so quickly