Lorne faced them with an enviable security; the friendliness
of the meeting was in the air. The gathering was almost
entirely of one political complexion: the Conservatives
of the town would have been glad enough to turn out to
hear Minister Tellier; but the Liberals were of no mind
to gratify them at the cost of having to stand themselves,
and were on hand early to assert a prior moral claim to
chairs. In the seated throng Lorne could pick out the
fine head of his father, and his mother's face, bright
with anticipation, beside. Advena was there, too, and
Stella; and the boys would have a perch, not too
conspicuous, somewhere in the gallery. Dr Drummond was
in the second row, and a couple of strange ladies with
him: he was chuckling with uncommon humour at some remark
of the younger one when Lorne noted him. Old Sandy MacQuhot
was in a good place; had been since six o'clock, and
Peter Macfarlane, too, for that matter, though Peter sat
away back as beseemed a modest functionary whose business
was with the book and the bell. Altogether, as Horace
Williams leaned over to tell him, it was like a Knox
Church sociable--he could feel completely at home; and
though the audience was by no means confined to Knox
Church, Lorne did feel at home. Dora Milburn's countenance
he might perhaps have missed, but Dora was absent by
arrangement.
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