Roderick McRae sat silently listening to the older man. He was wondering what Alexander Graham would say, when he found his lawyer arrayed on the side of the temperance forces. For he knew that his wealthy client had heavy investments in breweries, and also owned secretly, the bigger share of Algonquin's leading hotel and bar-room.
He was not long left in doubt. The ladies of the Presbyterian church gave a turkey and pumpkin pie supper on Thanksgiving eve, with a concert in the Sunday-school room after, all for the sum of twenty-five cents, the proceeds to go to a new red carpet and cushions for the choir gallery. Lawyer Ed was chairman at the concert, of course, and J. P. Thornton was the chief speaker. And though his address was on Imperialism, a subject through which he had grown quite famous, he branched off into temperance and publicly announced that the local option by-law would be submitted before long in Algonquin, and they had better get ready.
Lawyer Ed, who always made a short speech between each item on the programme, burst forth, almost before J. P. had sat down, with the further announcement, accompanied by a great deal of oratory, that the temperance forces would carry their banner to victory and mount over every difficulty even as his Highland ancestors had stormed the heights of Alma. For when Lawyer Ed got upon the platform, a strange transformation always came over him. His Hibernianism fell from him like a garment, and he was over the heather and away like any true born Scot.
The next day, Miss Leslie Graham, in a new autumn suit of ruby velvet and a big plumed hat, dropped in at the office of Brians and McRae and, after chattering merrily for half-an-hour with Roderick, said that her father wanted him to come up the following evening for dinner.
Roderick went, with, as usual, the faint hope that he might see Helen Murray there. He had not succeeded in meeting her, except casually on the street, since that magic night when he had paddled her home in the moonlight. But he was, as usual, disappointed. There was only the Graham family present. Miss Leslie was as gay and charming as ever, and her mother was slightly less stiff with him. But Mr. Graham was exceptionally kind and hospitable. Before returning to the drawing-room after dinner, he carried Roderick off to the library for a little private chat. There were a few matters of business to be discussed, and when they were finished, Mr. Graham said casually:
"I suppose you run the affairs of Brians and McRae yourself these days. I hear Ed's off after another will-o'-the-wisp as usual. Let me see, I believe it's a temperance bee he's got in his bonnet this time."
Roderick was silent. The contemptuous tone nettled him. He would not discuss Lawyer Ed with Alexander Graham, no matter what the consequence.
"Well, well," said the host, giving the fire a poke, and laughing good-naturedly. "Those fellows must do something to take up their time. But it's a pity to see them wasting it. For that thing won't go here in Algonquin, Rod. Take my word for it. And if it did, it would be a great pity, for such a law wouldn't be kept. Of course, if Ed Brians and Archie Blair and J. P. Thornton, and a few other fanatics like that, are bound to meddle with other people's consciences, I suppose we'll just have to let them do it. 'If it plazes her, it don't be hurtin' me,' as Mike Cassidy said when Judy hammered him with the broomstick. I hope they'll enjoy themselves."
Roderick looked up quickly. "It is not a mere pastime with my father. It is a thing of great moment to him," he said.
"Oh, well, of course," said Mr. Graham suavely. "I can understand that. Your father is a man who has devoted his life to drunks and outcasts, and he looks on temperance legislation as a refuge for them. I have no doubt he is quite sincere in the matter."