"Yes, of course. I remember I saw him last year at the McGill match."
"Well, what was up?" said Brown, scenting something good. "Let us have it. Do the reporter act."
"Well, it's good copy, let me tell you, but I don't want to allow my professional zeal to obliterate my sense of the decencies of polite society."
"Go on," said Brown, "I want to hear. You know, I played quarter behind him for three years, and Miss Fairbanks is interested, I know."
"You did? Well, if he bucked up as he did this afternoon, you must have had good hunting. Well, then, when that committee met you never saw a more solemn-looking bunch in your life. You would think they had all lost their mothers-in-law. And when they broke up they didn't know but they were standing on their heads."
"What was the matter?"
"Oh, there was a big deficit on, and they had to go up to your big council—conference—what do you call it in your pagan outfit? Assembly? Yes, that's it—and take their medicine. Twenty thousand dollars of a debt. Well, sir, on the back of all that didn't their Grand Mogul—archbishop—you know, from the West—no, not Macgregor—their chief pusher. Superintendent? Yes—come in and put an ice pack on them in the shape of a new scheme for exploration and extension in the Kootenay country, the Lord knows where, some place out of sight. Well, you ought to have heard him. He burned red fire, you bet. Pardon my broken English, Miss Fairbanks."
"Go on," said Helen, "I like it," and Brown gave himself a little hug.
"I am glad you do," continued Tommy, "for it is bad enough to write copy without having to speak it. Well, the war began, some in favour of the scheme, some against, but all hopeless in view of the present state of finances. Better wait a little, and that sort of talk. Then, let's see what happened. Oh, yes. The question of the man came up. Who was the man? The Superintendent was ready for 'em. It was Macgregor of some place. Frog Lake? No, Loon Lake. Then the opposition thought they had him with a half-nelson. Old Dr. Macfarren jumped on to the chief with both feet. His man was no good, a flat failure in his field, no tact. Beg your pardon, Miss Fairbanks. What did you say?"
"Oh, never mind," said Helen. "Go on."