The winter passed swiftly and merrily in Glenoro. Since the accident on the river skating had fallen into disfavour, but the minister loved coasting, someone discovered, and the young people turned the south hill into such a splendid slide that the teams could scarcely get down to the mill with their saw-logs. Then there were parties and tea-meetings, and the weekly meetings of the many organisations in connection with the church. The young pastor² and his youthful friends lived in a constant whirl.  
This state of affairs brought down many a wrathful condemnation³ from the ruling elder upon the heads of the young minister and all his generation. Andrew Johnstone had well-nigh lost all hope of the young man's ever accomplishing any good. But he and Duncan Polite still clung to one straw. Every winter the Methodists held a series of revival⁵ services, and this year the Presbyterian Church was to be asked to join them. Such friendly relations had been established between the two denominations⁶ since Mr. Egerton's arrival in Glenoro that this was at last possible. Andrew and his friend looked to this period of special services as an anchor in the great tide of worldliness which, to them, seemed to be sweeping⁷ away their church.
 
But when the Methodist minister approached his brother clergyman with the proposition, Mr. Egerton was compelled to give a reluctant refusal. He was grieved at his inability to help Mr. Ansdell in any undertaking⁸, but he had already promised all his spare time and energy to a scheme of the schoolmaster's. Early in the winter Mr. Watson had dropped into the minister's study, his small, thin face full of eagerness.
 
"Look here, Mr. Egerton," he said, tilting⁹ his chair back against the wall, "let's get up a patriotic¹⁰ society this winter; it'll keep things lively."
 
The young clergyman was already beginning to realise that he had very little time for reading or study and scarcely relished¹³ the thought of additional engagements. "What should you do at the meetings, for instance?" he asked.
 
"Oh, stir up a spirit of loyalty¹⁴. I'm not just sure how; but you'd be sure to find a way."
 
"Why not make it a literary society, and study one of the poets; don't you think that would be better?"
 
Mr. Watson did not look satisfied. "I don't believe you're half patriotic," he said banteringly, "but I'll make a bargain with you. I know a literary society would be a good thing, and I'll go in for it head and feet, if you'll promise to call it the Canadian Patriotic Society, and let's talk about Canada for ten minutes or so before you begin on your poets."
 
John Egerton was rather pleased with the idea. Certainly young Canadians were grievously ignorant of their own country, and a literary society would supply a great want.
 
So the Canadian Patriotic Society was duly organised and from the first was a great success.
 
But a quiet weekly meeting at a private house was not sufficient for the insatiable energy and fervid¹⁵ patriotism¹⁶ of Mr. Watson. He decided¹⁷ that the Canadian Patriotic Society must come before the public. His last attempt at a patriotic demonstration¹⁸ had met with such humiliating disaster that he had abandoned all such projects for a time, but here was a grand opportunity to educate the public. They would give a patriotic concert that very winter and astonish all the township of Oro. Of course the society was ready for anything and was soon plunged¹⁹ in monster preparations for the event. It was at this juncture²⁰ that Mr. Egerton was asked to assist in the period of revival services. But this new society and its concert completely filled his spare time, so the two weeks of special meetings, when the old minister laboured faithfully to bring souls to Christ, were carried on without help from his young confederate. The attendance was smaller than on former occasions, and the interest seemed faint. John Egerton was sorely troubled. He felt he could not be blamed, and yet his conscience rebuked²¹ him.
 
In spite of its immense popularity the Canadian Patriotic Society met with some opposition²². As the minister was taking such an active part in it, Duncan Polite watched its development with a faint hope. But Splinterin' Andra soon dispelled²³ his illusions. "It's jist some more o' his balderdash to keep young folk oot o' their beds at night," he declared bitterly. "Man, if the buddie'd be faithful to his Maister, he needna' fear for his country!"
 
Old Mark Middleton, whose forebears were United Empire Loyalists, was another active dissenter²⁴. Mark's ancestry²⁵ placed him in a position to speak with authority upon such subjects and his opinion had some weight with the community. He declared that the whole thing savoured of rebellion, and he, for one, would be very glad if he were sure the schoolmaster and the Presbyterian minister weren't hatching some Irish plot against the Government.
 
Coonie found this a tempting²⁶ morsel²⁷, and delivered it duly to the schoolmaster the first Saturday he found him at the corner. "Awful sorry to hear about the row you'n the minister are gettin' into," he remarked sympathetically, as he crawled into the store, and pulled his poor, half-frozen limbs up to the stove.
 
Mr. Watson turned sharply from the contemplation of the pound of butter Mrs. Watson had cautioned him to bring home, and stared at the speaker.
 
"What on earth do you mean?" he inquired incredulously.
 
"Why, didn't you hear?" Coonie's tone was a master-piece of pained amazement²⁸. "Why, old Middleton's kickin' like a steer²⁹ about this patriotic concert you're gettin' up. Says he bets it's another Mackenzie business all over, and he'll have the law if it ain't stopped. An' Splinterin' Andra says that a minister o' the Gospel who——"
 
"Oh, go along, Coonie!" cried the other, much relieved. "You're surely old enough to know that Mr. Egerton's got more sense than to pay attention to anything quite so pre-historic as Splinterin' Andra! And as for old Mark," he continued impressively, "you can tell him, from me, that if there'd been a few more concerts like this long ago, William Lyon Mackenzie couldn't have raised a rebellion and wouldn't have wanted to if he could."
 
Coonie shook his head doubtfully. "'Fraid it would only make trouble. Mark says it's all danged nonsense. Awful language that old man uses!" He sighed piously³⁰, and, lighting³¹ his pipe, proceeded to make himself comfortable.
 
"Well, I'll tell you one thing," he continued seriously, putting his feet on the top of the stove and expectorating into the open damper at a perilous³² distance, "I'll tell you one thing. This here dispenser o' religion you've got in this town tries to run too many shows at once. He's tryin' to keep the Gospel trade hummin' an' have his eye on all the fun that's goin' at the same time. I ain't up in the religion business myself; there ain't likely to be any wings sproutin' 'round where I'm at, but I can tell a minister from an alligator³³ seven days in the week, an' without specs, too, an' the first time I laid eyes on that chap you've got now, I knew he wasn't the sort that made folks hop⁴ along to Heaven any faster than they wanted to go."
 
"You certainly ought to be a competent judge of a minister's duty, Coonie," replied the schoolmaster sarcastically³⁴.
 
Mr. Basketful paused in the operation of weighing the butter. "Coonie's right," he said, with conviction. "Mr. Egerton can preach, but 'e's not wot I call spiritually minded."
 
"That's it!" cried Coonie. "That's the word I'm rummagin' for; he's a sort o' sleigh-ridin', tea-meetin' parson. I didn't take much stock in old Cameron when he was livin'; you couldn't take a chaw o' tobacco without him knowin' about it, but all the same he was the genu-ine article. It was uncomfortable times for sinners when he was 'round. This chap's different grade; he needs a label on him."
 
Mr. Watson went out, banging the door in disgust, and Coonie kept himself warm for many a mile past Glenoro, chuckling³⁵ over his joke.
 
But the schoolmaster was too enthusiastic to be depressed³⁶ by such ignorant opposition. He felt that he was creating an epoch³⁷ in Canadian history; he was stirring up a sentiment which would permeate³⁸ the whole country from Halifax to Vancouver and from the international boundary to the north pole, a sentiment which would fire the lukewarm blood of this people and bring glory and honour upon Canada and George Watson.
 
If he had remained long enough in Glenoro, he might have witnessed a condition of affairs which would have surprised him. Could he have seen the boys he had taught in the school, grown to men, pushing and jostling each other in their jealous and frantic³⁹ efforts to be of the glorious chosen few who marched away to uphold the old flag on the African veldt, could he have foreseen that the disloyal young Neil, who had been the first on that shameful⁴⁰ Dominion⁴¹ Day to throw away his flag and desert his country, would one day face a whole regiment⁴² for Queen and Empire, he might have confessed that he had mistaken British reticence⁴³ for lack of sentiment. But the schoolmaster, though whole-souled and well-meaning, was not by any means far-seeing, so he went on stirring up a spirit of loyalty with an energy worthy⁴⁴ of a better cause.
 
Through it all John Egerton was dissatisfied and worried. He felt positively⁴⁵ grieved over the loss of an opportunity to show his appreciation⁴⁶ of Mr. Ansdell's friendship, and he knew that the elder people of his own congregation blamed him. He had another trouble, too, which he scarcely confessed to himself; it was the strange, subtle change in Jessie Hamilton. When Donald ignored his humble⁴⁷ letter, his repentant⁴⁸ mood had slowly vanished. He told himself the young man was all he had suspected, and not worth his trouble. He would have resumed his attentions to Jessie with a clear conscience, but was met by a gentle but firm opposition. He was puzzled and annoyed by the change in her. She was as sweet and friendly towards him as of old, but her manner of timid deference⁴⁹ seemed to have changed to an intangible air of superiority. The young pastor could not know that she had passed far beyond him on the spiritual road, and the distance between them bewildered him. He began to realise too, to his chagrin⁵⁰, that she was avoiding him. No matter what pains he took to seek her company, she managed, in some mysterious way, to elude⁵¹ him. He wondered gloomily how much Donald Neil had to do with the change.
 
But soon all personal affairs had to be set aside, for the date of Mr. Watson's great celebration had arrived. Whatever diverse opinions there may have been in the community regarding the aims of the patriotic society, all seemed unanimous in regard to attending their entertainment. The concert was to be given in the Methodist Church, while tea was served previously⁵² in the Temperance Hall across the street.
 
At an early hour eager spectators began to pour in.
 
Inside the hall, waiters, struggling through the crowd around the tables, left more cake and pie upon the human obstructions⁵³ around them than they carried to the hungry folks already seated. Turkey, sandwiches, cake and pie disappeared as if by magic, as the long tables were filled again and again.
 
Waiters flew, dishes rattled⁵⁴, babies cried and everyone talked and laughed and made a noise. And every five minutes the door would fly open, creaking on its frosty hinges, to admit a rush of chill, fresh air and still another crowd.
 
The cooking had been done on a tremendous scale, and the results were beyond praise. The North and the South had "played a drawn⁵⁵ game," Wee Andra declared; for even Mr. Egerton, seated with the Methodist minister at the head of the longest and most heavily-laden board, was unable to detect one slight shade of greater excellence⁵⁶ in one than the other and ate Northern pies and Southern tarts⁵⁷ with an impartial⁵⁸ relish¹².
 
He and Mr. Watson succeeded after supper in extricating⁵⁹ themselves from the hungry crowd. They crossed the street to where the windows of the church gleamed warm and bright.
 
"Well, Watson," said the minister encouragingly, "the crowd is here at any rate, whether it's a patriotic one or not."
 
"Yes siree!" The schoolmaster was in high spirits. "If it's not patriotic now, I'll bet my head it will be before we're done with them. This is all owing to our efforts!"
 
But John Egerton did not share his enthusiasm. He was watching morosely⁶⁰ three figures that were just disappearing into the church ahead of him. They were Jessie and her father and mother. She had formed the habit lately of going out only with her parents, and when they remained at home she stayed with them, much to their wonder and delight. When he entered the church he found her safely ensconced between the two, and knew there was no opportunity for him to gain a word with her.
 
"Here comes the choir⁶¹!" announced a voice from the back, as the broad shoulders of Wee Andra heralded⁶² their approach. That august body walked leisurely⁶³ to their seats of honour in a bower⁶⁴ of evergreens⁶⁶ behind the organ, secure in the knowledge that the meeting could not possibly commence without them. They were soon settled in their places, and Syl Todd found to his unspeakable delight that he was seated next to Maggie Hamilton. His father and mother, seated in the front row, nudged each other in ecstasy⁶⁷ at the sight of their son sitting up there on the platform with the minister and the schoolmaster and looking far handsomer and better dressed than either of them.
 
But poor Syl did not derive⁶⁸ as much enjoyment⁶⁹ from his proud position as did his parents. Maggie was extremely difficult. "Ain't the decorations lovely," he remarked, by way of a propitiatory⁷⁰ opening of conversation. "If it hadn't a' been for you, Maggie, them flags wouldn't a' been hung near so graceful⁷¹."
 
His divinity jerked herself round impatiently. "Oh, my goodness, I wish something else had been hung besides flags," she said with heartless meaning.
 
Syl laughed nervously⁷². "Oh Maggie, you are such a tease! I never seen such a monkey of a girl as you. Look here what I got you." He handed her a little white candy tablet on which was printed a sentimental⁷⁴ inscription⁷⁵. "I bought three pounds of them congregational lozengers at Basketful's to-day jist for you."
 
Maggie glared at the unoffending piece of confectionery, but did not deign⁷⁶ to touch it. "My, but you must have thought I could eat like a horse!" she remarked scathingly. "You can give them to Julia Duffy," and she flounced out of the seat to another at some distance, leaving Syl to endure an evening of tormenting⁷⁷ doubt as to whether he might see her home.
 
Mr. Watson came bustling⁷⁸ over nervously to confer with the choir leader. "The crowd's nearly all here, do you think we'd better start, Andrew?"
 
"Jist as you like," was the reply. Wee Andra was of too huge proportions to be moved by any excitement. "There's Mr. Thomas Hayes, M. P., no less, comin' in at the door now!" he added, stretching his neck to get a view of the other end of the church and sending a rather unstable⁷⁹ cedar⁸⁰ tree and a deluge⁸¹ of flags cra............