Dick gazed ruefully out of the window. “It's true. It's terribly true,” he said. “The people don't want anything better than they have. The saloon must continue to be the dominant influence here for a time. But you hear me, Daggett, a better day is coming, and if you want an opportunity to do, not the heroic thing only, but the wise thing, jump into a campaign for reform. Do you think Canadians are going to stand this long? This is a Christian country, I tell you. The Church will take a hand.”
Daggett smiled a superior smile. “Coming? Yes, sure, but meantime The Pioneer spells Church with a small c, and even the Almighty's name with a small g.”
“I tell you, Daggett,” said Dick hotly, “The Pioneer's day is past. I see signs and I hear rumblings of a storm that will sweep it, and you, too, unless you change, out of existence.”
“Not at all, my dear sir. We will be riding on that storm when it arrives. But the rumblings are somewhat distant. I, too, see signs, but the time is not yet. By the way, where is your brother?”
“I don't see much of him. He is up and down the line, busy with his sick and running this library and clubroom business.”
“Yes,” replied Daggett thoughtfully, “I hear of him often. The railroad men and the lumbermen grovel to him. Look here, would he run in this constituency?”
Dick laughed at him. “Not he. Why, man, he's straight. You couldn't buy him. Oh, I know the game.”
Daggett was silenced for some moments.
“Hello!” said Daggett, looking out of the window, “here is our coming Member.” He opened the door. “Mr. Hull, let me introduce you to the Reverend Richard Boyle, preacher and moral reformer. Mr. Boyle—Mr. Hull, the coming Member for this constituency.”
“I hope he will make a better fist of it than the present incumbent,” said Dick a little gruffly, for he had little respect for either of the political parties or their representatives. “I must get along. But, Daggett, for goodness' sake do something with this beastly gambling-hell business.” With this he closed the door.