Duncan Polite had hoped that ere this his nephew and Mr. Egerton would have been firm friends. He wondered sadly over his failure to bring them together at his house. He wondered over other things, too. He regarded the revival of activity in the church with a heart of overflowing joy, but a joy tinged with a puzzled uncertainty. He knew that the young people of the congregation were now taking a greater interest in religious matters than they had ever done, and yet he could not quite understand why it was that, though the boys went regularly to the meetings of the various organisations and were constant in their attendance at the weekly prayer-meeting, which they had formerly eschewed, still they showed no consequent change of conduct. Sandy's fiddling and dancing went on uninterruptedly, parallel with his Christian Endeavour meetings. Wee Andra was even more irreverent than formerly and Donald showed no signs of an added desire to enter the ministry. Donald's case was particularly disappointing. He wanted Donald to sit at his young pastor's feet and learn the lesson of true consecration. He never dreamed that those two whom he desired to be fast friends were in great danger of becoming enemies, and that events were shaping themselves to widen the breach between them.
VII
A DISASTROUS PICNIC.
Dominion Day was approaching, the day upon which Glenoro had held a picnic in Isaac Thompson's maple grove, about half a mile down the river, ever since there was a Dominion Day.
The affair was ostensibly for the Presbyterian Sabbath School, but all Glenoro and the surrounding neighbourhood attended. The people from the Oa and the Flats and even from over on the Tenth flocked to Thompson's grove and swung in the trees and joined the swimming matches and helped on the festivity. Besides the sports and other attractions, there was always a programme of music and speeches after tea. Andrew Johnstone, as superintendent of the Sabbath School, was responsible for this part of the entertainment. The young men erected a platform of new pine boards from the mill and the young women decorated it with evergreen boughs and the visiting clergymen and township orators seated themselves upon it in dignified array. Peter McNabb led the whole assembly in a psalm or paraphrase and then Mr. Cameron and the Methodist minister and all others honoured with a seat upon the platform delivered addresses to the people seated in semi-circles on the ground. Some of the speeches were sound and edifying, some were of a lighter tone and were sprinkled with judicious jokes culled from many sources for the occasion. Old Mr. Lawton, an itinerant Baptist preacher who, no matter what his peregrinations might be, always happened to be in Glenoro on Dominion Day, had told the same jokes annually within the memory of the oldest picnicker, but, as they came only once a year, they were quite fresh after their long rest and the audience laughed at them each season with unabated mirth.
When Mr. Watson participated in the Glenoro picnic for the first time, he was filled with a deep disapproval. He was an energetic, well-meaning young man, rather injudicious and fiercely patriotic after the spread-eagle manner of his cousins across the international boundary. The Glenoro picnic struck him as being nothing short of disloyal. There was not a flag to be seen anywhere in the woods, only one of the speakers mentioned the fact that it was Dominion Day, and then in a mere incidental way, and at the closing they actually sang "Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow" instead of "God Save the Queen!" The schoolmaster made up his mind that if he lived till the next first of July, he would show the people what a Dominion Day celebration ought to be. For this purpose he sought the co-operation of the minister. Old Andrew Johnstone was ruining the rising generation, he explained, and it was time somebody showed him that he and his old-fashioned ideas were antediluvian. John Egerton hesitated at first. He did not like the idea of running counter to his ruling elder, but he secretly agreed with Mr. Watson that that old man had too much to do with the affairs of the church. He felt also that this would be a fine opportunity to come in touch with the boys and girls; so, after some demurring, he finally yielded and consented to give a helping hand in the patriotic demonstration.
Mr. Watson set to work with wonderful zest. As the picnic was for the Sabbath school, the children should properly be the entertainers, he declared, so the public school pupils were detained every day after school hours and the minister came down and helped drill them in patriotic songs and exercises. Of course, they needed a musical instrument, so they hired the Temperance Society's organ, and Jessie Hamilton was asked to play. The whole arrangement proved highly satisfactory to the young minister. He found himself looking forward to the practise hour with pleasure, for he would walk down to the Hamiltons', call for Jessie, and together they would stroll across the bridge and up the river road beneath the trees to the school house where they spent an hour in each other's company.
The undertaking had its drawbacks as well as its pleasure, however. The chief one was young Neil Neil, a worse imp than Sandy even, and an unfailing source of disorder. He and his bosom companion in iniquity, a wild Irishman from the Flats by the name of Patrick Regan, conspired to make the practise hour a burden to both their instructors. John Egerton was sometimes tempted to wonder if Donald Neil was taking his revenge by inciting his young relative to acts of rebellion. Then, too, some of the parents grumbled because their children did not return home in time to do "the chores." This gave the schoolmaster very little trouble, however. He paid no attention to such base sentiments; patriotism must be inculcated in the minds of young Canada, whether the calves were fed or not.
But in spite of all discouragements the work progressed. There were flag drills and motion songs, patriotic songs and public spirited recitations and when the programme was finally completed Mr. Watson heaved a sigh of content. There was to be only one speech, for Mr. Egerton insisted that Mr. Ansdell be asked to say "a few words." They quite forgot, however, that the superintendent of the Sabbath school had always given the opening address and that Sim Basketful, though a Methodist, had never missed contributing to the programme. For the postmaster was undoubtedly the orator of Glenoro and had never before seen a picnic bill between the Oa and the Flats without his name on it in large type. Mr. Watson brushed away any doubts the minister had regarding the innovation. "Was he going to be ruled by Splinterin' Andra, or was he not?" he inquired, and John Egerton had responded that he most decidedly was not, so the preparations went on unabated.