Illustration
lies, at this moment close to us. They had not been in
the same room a quarter of an hour before he was in deep
and affectionate converse with Lorne Murchison, whose
party we know, and whose political weight was increasing,
as this influence often does, with a rapidity out of
proportion with his professional and general significance.
"It's a pity now," said Mr Winter, with genial interest,
"you can't get that Ormiston defence into your own hands.
Very useful thing for you."
The younger man shifted a little uncomfortably in his
seat. It is one thing to entertain a private vision and
another to see it materialized on other lips.
"Oh I'd like it well enough," he said, "but it's out of
the question, of course. I'm too small potatoes."
"There's a lot of feeling for old Ormiston. Folks out
there on the Reserve don't know how to show it enough."
"They've shown it a great deal too much. We don't want
to win on 'feeling,' or have it said either. And we were
as near as possible having to take the case to the Hamilton
Assizes."
"I guess you were--I guess you were." Mr Winter's suddenly
increased gravity expressed his appreciation of the
danger. "I saw Lister of the Bank the day they heard from
Toronto--rule refused. Never saw a man more put out.
Seems they considered the thing as good as settled.
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