Both the local papers published the speech in full the following day. “If there’s anything in Manchester or Birmingham that Mr Lorne Murchison would like,” commented the Mercury editorially, “we understand he has only to call for it.”
CHAPTER XXX
The Milburns’ doorbell rang very early the morning of the election. The family and Alfred Hesketh were just sitting down to breakfast. Mr Hesketh was again the guest of the house. He had taken a run out to Vancouver with Mr Milburn’s partner, who had gone to settle a point or two in connection with the establishment of a branch there. The points had been settled and Hesketh, having learned more than ever, had returned to Elgin.
The maid came back into the room with a conscious air, and said something in a low voice to Dora, who flushed and frowned a little, and asked to be excused. As she left the room a glance of intelligence passed between her and her mother. While Miss Milburn was generally thought to be “most like” her father both in appearance and disposition, there were points upon which she could count on an excellent understanding with her other parent.
“Oh, Lorne,” she said, having carefully closed the drawing-room door, “what in the world have you come here for? Today of all days! Did anybody see you?”
The young man, standing tall and broad-shouldered before the mantelpiece, had yet a look of expecting reproach.
“I don’t know,” he said humbly.
“I don’t think Father would like it,” Dora told him, “if he knew you were here. Why, we’re having an early breakfast on purpose to let him get out and work for Winter. I never saw him so excited over an election. To think of your coming today!”
He made a step toward her. “I came because it is today,” he said. “Only for a minute, dear. It’s a great day for me, you know—whether we win or lose. I wanted you to be in it. I wanted you to wish me good luck.”