“You don’t accuse the Grits of being disloyal, do you?” asked Mumsie.
“The Grits have no political affiliations outside Canada and are not disloyal. Given an occasional opportunity to misgovern[[4]] the country, they are happy enough. They look upon the Yankee as a success, that is the Scotch Grits do——”
“How about the French?” queried Uncle.
“The Canadian Frenchman does not like the Yankee and is not a money-seeker. He, like the Scotch Grit, has no outside affiliation. He has no love for British institutions. How could it be expected of him? He is not actively disloyal: he does not lie awake at night worrying about the vitality of the British Empire. Being, perforce, a guest of the Empire, he has decided to enjoy its privileges and dodge its obligations.”
“That would seem reasonable enough,” suggested Uncle. “Put ourselves in his place.”
“I was in Ville Marie, a French village, that remains in its primeval state. About it I saw floating a dozen French flags, but no British. Of what was this the expression? Not of loyalty to Britain. But it was not necessarily the token of love of France. In fact your French-Canadian hates the old country Frenchman. Laurier—” Mr. Bang stopped with the one word and beckoned a man passing from his dinner. The gentleman came towards us, was introduced and invited to join our party. He was Mr. Fraser, a Western Member.
“You are a personal friend of your chief: what is his outstanding characteristic?” asked Mr. Bang.
“Serenity,” came the quick response.
“We were discussing politics,” explained Mr. Bang, “and I am conscious I am prejudiced.”
Mr. Fraser chatted a few moments and then excused himself.