"I should just say he is," said Roderick rather explosively.
"That's quite true, Rod," said his patron, a little annoyed. "But your father, with many another good man, is making a great mistake when he believes people will be benefited by temperance legislation. Some folks seem to think that if you get local option in a town the millennium has come." He lit a cigar, and leaned back with an air of finality. "I tell you they're awfully mistaken. People want liquor and they'll get it as long as they want it, law or no law. And they're going to want it till the end of time. And if those folks insist upon forcing this by-law upon Algonquin, they will only succeed in giving the town a bad name. It's simply ruinous to a place from a business standpoint."
Roderick had no answer to make. He was inclined to believe that Graham was right. He wanted to believe it, for the burden of this thing was annoying him. He knew that Lawyer Ed would have met the statements with fiery contradictions, and J. P. Thornton would have answered with clear, convincing facts. But he had given very little thought to the subject, and could not remember any of the arguments. And he had certainly heard, many, many times that the temperance measure had been a failure in other towns.
He sat silent, his elbows on his knees, his hands locked together, looking into the glowing grate and wishing he didn't have to be bothered with it all. What had local option to do with his work, anyway?
And then he realised that his host was talking again. In the midst of his quiet insinuating remarks, there was a sharp tap on the door, and Leslie swept into the room, very handsome in her soft, trailing white dress.
"I'm just not going to let you two poke here any longer," she declared, giving her father's ear a pull. "You're spoiling all Rod's evening, Daddy, by talking business. His office is for that. Come right along into the drawing-room this minute, the Baldwin girls have come, and we're going to have some music."
The subject of local option was not referred to again that evening, but Roderick realised that, in some subtle way, how, he scarcely knew, his client had conveyed to him the unmistakable intelligence that should he identify himself with the temperance forces in any prominent way, the business of Graham and Company would have to be placed in other hands.
Roderick scarcely understood what had been said until he was walking home in the clear frosty air with time to think it over.
He was miserably uncomfortable the next day when he found his chief buried head and ears in temperance affairs.
"We'll have to wade into this with high-water boots, ma braw John Hielanman!" he cried radiantly. "Be jabers! but I do love a fight, and a fine old Donnybrook fair we're goin' to have!" And he relapsed into a rich Irish brogue.