mpression
overflowed the ranks of his own supporters and softened asperity among
his opponents. Illustration lies, at this moment close to us. They had
not been in the same room a quarter of an hour before he was in deep
and affectionate converse with Lorne Murchison, whose party we know,
and whose political weight was increasing, as this influence often does,
with a rapidity out of proportion with his professional and general
significance.

"It's a pity now," said Mr Winter, with genial interest, "you can't get
that Ormiston defence into your own hands. Very useful thing for you."

The younger man shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. It is one
thing to entertain a private vision and another to see it materialized
on other lips.

"Oh I'd like it well enough," he said, "but it's out of the question, of
course. I'm too small potatoes."

"There's a lot of feeling for old Ormiston. Folks out there on the
Reserve don't know how to show it enough."

"They've shown it a great deal too much. We don't want to win on
'feeling,' or have it said either. And we were as near as possible
having to take the case to the Hamilton Assizes."

"I guess you were--I guess you were." Mr Winter's suddenly increased
gravity expressed his appreciation of the danger. "I saw Lister of the
Bank the day they heard from Toronto--rule refused. Never saw a man more
put out. Seems they considered the thing as good as settled. General
opinion was it would go to Hamilton, sure. Well I don't know how you
pulled it off, but it was a smart piece of work, sir."

Lorne encountered Mr Winter's frank smile with an expression of crude
and rather stolid discomfort. It had a base of indignation, corrected by
a concession to the common idea that most events, with an issue pendent,
were the result of a smart piece of work: a kind of awkward shrug was in
it. He had no desire to be unpleasant to Walter Winter--on the contrary.
Nevertheless, an uncompromising line came on each side of his mouth with
his reply.

"As far as I know," he said, "the application was dismissed on its
demerits."

"Of course it was," said Mr Winter good-humouredly. "You don't need to
tell me that. Well, now, this looks like dancing. Miss Filkin, I see, is
going to oblige on the piano. Now I wonder whether I'm going to get Miss
Dora to give me a waltz or not."

Chairs and table were in effect being pushed back, and folding doors
opened which disclosed another room prepared for