So the reception took place at the wharf after all, with every one in imminent danger of going through the rotten planks into the lake. It was a rather informal affair. J. P. Thornton and Archie Blair tried to preserve some dignity, but Lawyer Ed was in a towering rage and cared not for decorum. He shook his fist at the Old Boys and told them they were howling idiots and had lost what little manners they had learned in Algonquin. Then he stood up on the carriage seat, his face red, his eyes blazing, and called Captain Jimmie an old blind mole and an ostrich and everything else in the world foolish and unthinking. Captain Jimmie shouted back with a right good Highland spirit, from his vantage point on the deck and all the Old Boys cheered joyously, declaring this was the one thing needful to make them feel absolutely at home.
Finally the proper welcome was stammered out by the Mayor, who was even less at home making a speech than running his automobile, and they all got away and the procession started up towards the church.
On every side were shouts of welcome: "Hello, Bob!" "Hi, there, Jack, you home too?" "Well, well, if there isn't old Bill! No place like Algonquin, eh Bill?" etc., etc. Harry Armstrong was easily the favourite, and was the recipient of many welcoming shouts.
Roderick stood at the door watching the procession go past to the church. He was amazed to see Lawyer Ed and his brother seated in the same carriage as Alexander Graham. There was a ponderous man with a double chin seated beside him, and going into a spasm of laughter every time Lawyer Ed spoke. Roderick looked at him with keen interest. This was William Graham, the man whose word was law with the firm of Elliot and Kent. He had come all the way from New York for this celebration entirely, he declared in his speech at the banquet, because Ed had wired him to come and he could not resist Ed. They had been great friends in boyhood days, and the big brother cared not a whit that Sandy had a grudge at Ed. If that were so, he declared, then all the more shame to Sandy. So he was seated between the Brians brothers, fairly radiating joy from his big fat person, when the procession passed Lawyer Ed's office. His chief waved his hat at Roderick and roared:
"Come awa ben the kirk, ma braw John Hielanman!" and then he turned to the portly gentleman at his side and said:
"That's Angus McRae's boy, Bill. He's my partner now."
"Angus McRae's son? You mean Roderick McRae?" The millionaire turned and stared at the young man keenly. He nodded to his brother.
"Looks like a likely lad all right," he said. "I want to see you about him, Ed, when all the fuss is over."
Roderick had such a pile of work on the desk before him, that he did not get up to the church until the luncheon was over and the last speaker but one on his feet. This was Jock McPherson, and when Roderick slipped into the crowds standing at the ends of the long glittering tables, the little man was explaining very slowly and solemnly that as the afternoon with its long programme was approaching he would not be keeping them. All his oratorical rivals had had their turn at the Old Boys and Mr. McPherson was just a bit nettled at being crowded into the last few minutes. J. P. Thornton and Archie Blair and Lawyer Ed had got themselves put on ahead of him and had taken all the time and said all the complimenting things to be said. Captain Willoughby was the chairman and, though it was agony for him to make a speech, he had tried in his halting way to make amends to Mr. McPherson. It was a pity that such an able speaker had been left so late, he had explained, but there were so many on the programme that some one had to come last, etc., etc. Jock arose after this very doubtful introduction, and spoke so deliberately that Lawyer Ed and J. P. exchanged significant glances, there was something coming. "It iss true Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen," he said slowly, "that there have been many fine speeches delivered this afternoon. And now what shall I say? For I feel that ufferything has already been said." He paused and gave the peculiar sniffing sound that told he had scented a joke from afar and was going to hunt it to earth. "Yes, Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen, there is no doubt that there is vurry little left to be said on any subject whatuffer. I feel vurry much like the meenister who went into the pulpit with his sermon. He had not looked at it since he had put it away the night before, and the mice had got at it and had eaten all the firstly, the secondly and the thirdly, and there was vurry little left—vurry little left, Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen. But the meenister would jist be explaining his dilemma to the people. 'My dearly beloved brethren,' he said, said he, 'I am vurry sorry to inform you that the mice have got at my sermon, and have eaten firstly, secondly and thirdly, but as it cannot be helped, my dearly beloved brethren, we will jist be commencing where the mice left off!'"
Even the mice had to join in the laugh on themselves, and when Jock had given the few words of his fourthly which were left, every one, himself included, was in fine humour.