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 fervid patriotism of Mr. Watson. He decided that the Canadian Patriotic Society must come before the public. His last attempt at a patriotic demonstration 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 plunged in monster preparations for the event. It was at this juncture 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 rebuked him.
In spite of its immense popularity the Canadian Patriotic Society met with some opposition. As the minister was taking such an active part in it, Duncan Polite watched its development with a faint hope. But Splinterin' Andra soon dispelled 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 dissenter. Mark's ancestry 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 tempting morsel, 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 amazement. "Why, old Middleton's kickin' like a steer 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 piously, and, lighting his pipe, proceeded to make himself comfortable.