“I think I should rather like to go myself,” said her father. A shout of approval rose from the whole company. “But,” continued the doctor, “I don't think I can. My dear, I think they might go for a few minutes—and you can bring me in a full account of the speeches, Patricia,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye.
“But, my dear,” exclaimed his wife, “this is one of those awful public affairs. You can't imagine what they are like. The Mill hands will all be there, and that sort of people.”
“Well, my dear, Jack Maitland will be there, I fancy, and you were thinking of going, Hugh?”
“Yes, sir, I am going. Of course there will be a number of the friends of both teams, townspeople. Of course the Mill hands will be there, too, in large numbers. It will be great fun.”
“Well, my dear,” said the doctor, “I think they might go down for a few minutes. But be sure to be back before midnight. Remember, Patricia, you are to do exactly as your sister says.”
Then Vic said: “I shall keep a firm hand on her, sir.”
“Oh, you darling,” Patricia cried, hugging her father rapturously. “I will be so good; and won't it be fun!”
Odd Fellows' Hall was elaborately decorated with bunting and evergreens. The party from the Rectory, arriving in time to hear the closing speeches of the two team captains, took their places in the gallery. The speeches were brief and to the point.
The Captain of the visiting team declared that he had greatly enjoyed the game. He was not quite convinced that the best team had won, but he would say that the game had gone to the team that had put up the best play. He complimented Captain Maitland upon his generalship. He had known Captain Maitland in the old days and he ought to have been on the lookout for the kind of thing he had put over. The Maitland Mill team had made a perfectly wonderful recovery in the last quarter, though he rather thought his friend Macnamara had helped it a little at a critical point.
“He did that,” exclaimed Jumbo Larson, with marked emphasis.