Altogether he looked sunk, like an overfed
bird, in deferential contemplation of what Mr Milburn
was saying.
"They've nobody to touch him, certainly in either ability
or experience," he replied, looking up to do it, with a
handsome air of concession. "Now that Martin's dead, and
Jim Fawkes come that howler over Pink River, they'll have
their work cut out for them to find a man. I hear Fawkes
takes it hard, after all he's done for 'em, not to get
the nomination, but they won't hear of it. Quite right,
too; he's let too many people in over that concession of
his to be popular, even among his friends."
"I suppose he has. Dropped anything there yourself?--No?
Nor I. When a thing gets to the boom stage I say let it
alone, even if there's gold in it and you've got a School
of Mines man to tell you so. Fawkes came out of it at
the small end himself, I expect, but that doesn't help
him any in the eyes of businessmen."
"I hear," said Walter Winter, stroking his nose, "that
old man Parsons has come right over since the bosses at
Ottawa have put so much money on preference trade with
the old country. He says he was a Liberal once, and may
be a Liberal again, but he doesn't see his way to voting
to give his customers blankets cheaper than he can make
them, and he'll wait till the clouds roll by.
Pages:
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268