to him that hath-第17部分

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prophecy；　there　was　little　in　Tony's　letter　that　could　be　passed　on。
Nor　did　Annette　drop　any　hint　but　that　all　was　quite　well　with　her
brother；　much　less　that　he　had　suggested　a　temporary　loan　of　fifty
dollars　but　only　of　course　if　she　could　spare　the　amount　with
perfect　convenience。　　After　this　letter　there　was　silence　as　far　as
Tony　was　concerned　and　for　Annette　anxiety　that　deepened　into　agony
as　the　silence　remained　unbroken　with　the　passing　weeks。

With　the　anxiety　there　mingled　in　Annette's　heart　anger　at　the
Maitlands；　for　she　blamed　them　for　Tony's　dismissal　from　his
position。　　This；　it　is　fair　to　say；　was　a　reflection　from　her
mother's　wrath；　whose　mind　had　been　filled　up　with　rumours　from　the
mills　to　the　effect　that　her　son　had　been　〃fired。〃　　Annette　was
wise　enough　and　knew　her　brother　well　enough　to　discredit　much　that
rumour　brought　to　her　ears；　but　she　could　not　rid　herself　of　the
thought　that　a　way　might　have　been　found　to　hold　Tony　about　the
mills。

〃He　fired　the　boy；　did　the　ould　carmudgeon；〃　said　Madame　Perrotte
in　one　of　her　rages；　〃and　druv　him　off　from　the　town。〃

〃Nonsense；　Mother；〃　Annette　had　replied；　〃you　know　well　enough　Tony
left　of　his　own　accord。　　Why　should　you　shame　him　so？　　He　went
because　he　wanted　to　go。〃

This　was　a　new　light　upon　the　subject　for　her　mother。

〃Thrue　for　you；　Annette；　gurl；〃　she　said；　〃an'　ye　said　it　that
time。　　But　why　for　did　he　not　induce　the　bye　to　remain？　　It　would
be　little　enough　if　he　had　made　him　the　Manager　of　the　hull　works。
That　same　would　never　pay　back　what　he　did　for　his　son。〃

〃Hush；　Mother；〃　said　Annette；　in　a　shocked　and　angry　voice；　〃let　no
one　hear　you　speak　like　that。　　Pay　back！　　You　know；　Mother；　nothing
could　ever　pay　back　a　thing　like　that。〃　　The　anger　in　her　daughter's
voice　startled　the　mother。

〃Oui！　by　gar！〃　said　Perrotte；　who　had　overheard；　with　quick　wrath。
〃Dat's　foolish　talk　for　sure！　　Dere's　no　man　can　spik　lak　dat　to
me；　or　I　choke　him　on　his　fool　t'roat；　me。〃

〃Right　you　are；　mon　pere！〃　said　Annette　appeasing　her　father。
〃Mother　did　not　think　what　she　was　saying。〃

〃Dat's　no　bon；〃　replied　Perrotte；　refusing　to　be　appeased。　　〃Sacre
tonnerre！　　Dat's　onewhat　you　call？damfool　speech。　　Dat　boy　Tony
he's　carry　（h）on　hees　back　his　friend；　le　Capitaine　Jack；　an'　le
Capitaine；　he's　go　five　mile　for　fin'　Tony　on'　de　shell　hole　an'
fetch　heem　to　le　docteur　and　stay　wit'　him　till　he's　fix　（h）up。
Nom　de　Dieu！　　You　pay　for　dat！　　Mama！　　You　mak'　shame　for　me　on　my
heart！〃　cried　the　old　Frenchman；　beating　his　breast；　while　sobs
shook　his　voice。



CHAPTER　VIII

FREE　SPEECH


Fifty　years　ago　Blackwater　town　was　a　sawmill　village　on　the
Blackwater　River　which　furnished　the　power　for　the　first　little
sawmill　set　up　by　Grant　Maitland's　father。

Down　the　river　came　the　sawlogs　in　the　early　spring　when　the　water
was　high；　to　be　caught　and　held　by　a　〃boom〃　in　a　pond　from　which
they　were　hauled　up　a　tramway　to　the　saw。　　A　quarter　of　a　mile　up
stream　a　mill　race；　tapping　the　river；　led　the　water　to　an　〃overshot
wheel〃　in　the　early　days；　later　to　a　turbine；　thus　creating　the
power　necessary　to　drive　the　mill　machinery。　　When　the　saw　was　still
the　water　overflowed　the　〃stop…logs〃　by　the　〃spillway〃　into　the　pond
below。

But　that　mill　race　furnished　more　than　power　to　the　mill。　　It
furnished　besides　much　colourful　romance　to　the　life　of　the　village
youth　of　those　early　days。　　For　down　the　mill　race　they　ran　their
racing　craft；　jostling　and　screaming；　urging　with　long　poles　their
laggard　flotillas　to　victory。　　The　pond　by　the　mill　was　to　the　boys
〃swimming　hole〃　and　fishing　pool；　where；　during　the　long　summer
evenings　and　through　the　sunny　summer　days；　they　spent　amphibious
hours　in　high　and　serene　content。　　But　in　springtime　when　the　pond
was　black　with　floating　logs　it　became　the　scene　of　thrilling　deeds
of　daring。　　For　thither　came　the　lumber…jacks；　fresh　from　〃the
shanties；〃　in　their　dashing；　multi…colored　garb；　to　〃show　off〃
before　admiring　friends　and　sweethearts　their　skill　in　〃log…
running〃　and　〃log…rolling〃　contests　which　as　the　spirit　of　venture
grew　would　end　like　as　not　in　the　icy　waters　of　the　pond。

Here；　too；　on　brilliant　winter　days　the　life　of　the　village　found
its　centre　of　vivid　interest　and　activity。　　For　then　the　pond　would
be　a　black　and　glittering　surface　whereon　wheeled　and　curved　the
ringing；　gleaming　blades　of　〃fancy〃　skaters　or　whereon　in　sterner
hours　opposing　〃shinny〃　teams　sought　glory　in　Homeric　and　often
gory　contest。

But　those　days　and　those　scenes　were　now　long　since　gone。　　The　old
mill　stood　a　picturesque　ruin；　the　water　wheel　had　given　place　to
the　steam　engine；　the　pond　had　shrunk　to　an　insignificant　pool
where　only　pollywogs　and　minnows　passed　unadventurous　lives；　the
mill　race　had　dwindled　to　a　trickling　stream　grown　thick　with
watercress　and　yellow　lilies；　and　what　had　once　been　the　centre　of
vigorous　and　romantic　life　was　now　a　back　water　eddy　devoid　alike
of　movement　and　of　colour。

A　single　bit　of　life　remainedthe　little　log　cottage；　once　the
Manager's　house　a　quarter　of　a　century　ago；　still　stood　away　up
among　the　pines　behind　the　old　mill　ruin　and　remote　from　the
streets　and　homes　of　the　present　town。　　At　the　end　of　a　little
grassy　lane　it　stood；　solid　and　square；　resisting　with　its　well
hewn　pinelogs　the　gnawing　tooth　of　time。　　Abandoned　by　the　growing
town；　forgotten　by　the　mill　owner；　it　was　re…discovered　by　Malcolm
McNish；　or　rather　by　his　keen　eyed　old　mother　on　their　arrival　from
the　old　land　six　months　ago。　　For　a　song　McNish　bought　the　solid
little　cottage；　he　might　have　had　it　as　a　gift　but　that　he　would
not；　restored　its　roof；　cleared　out　its　stone　chimney　which；　more
than　anything　else；　had　caught　the　mother's　eye；　re…set　the　window
panes；　added　a　wee　cunning　porch；　gave　its　facings　a　coat　of　paint；
enclosed　its　bit　of　flower　garden　in　front　and　its　〃kale　yaird〃　in
the　rear　with　a　rustic　paling；　and　made　it；　when　the　Summer　had
done　its　work；　a　bonnie　homelike　spot　which　caught　the　eye　and　held
the　heart　of　the　passer…by。

The　interior　more　than　fulfilled　the　promise　of　the　exterior。　　The
big　living　room　with　its　great　stone　fireplace　welcomed　you　on
opening　the　porch　door。　　From　the　living　room　on　the　right　led　two
doors；　each　giving　entrance　to　a　tiny　bedroom　and　flanking　a　larger
room　known　as　〃the　Room。〃

Within　the　living　room　were　gathered　the　household　treasures；　the
Lares　and　Penates　of　the　little　stone　rose…covered　cottage　〃at　hame
awa'　ayont　the　sea。〃　　On　the　mantel　a　solid　hewn　log　of　oak；　a
miracle　of　broad…axe　work；　were　〃bits　o'　chiny〃　rarely　valuable　as
antiques　to　the　knowing　connoisseur　but　beyond　price　to　the　old
white…haired　lady　who　daily　dusted　them　with　reverent　care　as
having　been　borne　by　her　mother　from　the　Highland　home　in　the　far
north　country　when　as　a　bride　she　came　by　the　〃cadger's　cairt〃　to
her　new　home　in　the　lonely　city　of　Glasgow。　　Of　that　Glasgow　home
and　of　her　own　home　later　the　walls　of　the　log　cottage　were
eloquent。

The　character　giving　bit　of　furniture；　however；　in　the　living　room
was　a　book…case　that　stood　in　a　corner。　　Its　beautiful　inlaid
cabinet　work　would　in　itself　have　attracted　attention；　but　not　the
case　but　the　books　were　its　distinction。　　The　great　English　poets
were　represented　there　in　serviceable　bindings　showing　signs　of
use；　Shakespeare；　Wordsworth；　Coleridge；　Browning；　Keats；　and　with
them　in　various　editions；　Burns。　　Beside　the　poets　Robert　Louis　had
a　place；　and　Sir　Walter；　as　well　as　Kipling　and　Meredith　and　other
moderns。　　But　on　the　shelf　that　showed　most　wear　were　to　be　found
the　standard　works　of　economists　of　different　schools　from　the
great　Adam　Smith　to　Marx　and　the　lot　of　his　imitators　and　disciples。
This　was　Malcolm's　book…case。　　There　was　in　another　corner　near　the
fire…place　a　little　table　and　above　it　hung　a　couple　of　shelves　for
books　of　another　sort；　the　Bible　and　The　Westminster　Confession；
Bunyan　and　Baxter　and　Fox's　Book　of　Martyrs；　Rutherford　and　McCheyne
and　Law；　The　Ten　Years'　Conflict；　Spurgeon's　Sermons　and　Smith's
Isaiah；　and　a　well　worn　copy　of　the　immortal　Robbie。　　This　was　the
mother's　corner；　a　cosy　spot　where　she　nourished　her　soul　by
converse　with　the　great　masters　of　thought　and　of　conscience。

In　this　〃cosy　wee　hoosie〃　Malcolm　McNish　and　his　mother　passed
their　quiet　evenings；　for　the　days　were　given　to　toil；　in　talk；　not
to　say　discussion　of　the　problems；　the　rights　and　wrongs　of　the
working　man。　　They　agreed　in　much；　they　differed；　and　strongly；　in
point　of　view。　　The　mother　was　all　for　reform　of　wrongs　with　the
existing　economic　system；　reverencing　the　great　Adam　Smith。　　The
son　was　for　a　new　deal；　a　new　system；　the　Socialistic；　with
modifications　all　his　own。　　All；　or　almost　all；　that　Malcolm　had
read　the　mother　had　read　with　the　exception　of　Marx。　　She　〃cudna
thole　yon　godless　loon〃　or　his　theories　or　his　works。　　Malcolm　had
grown　somewhat　sick　of　Marx　since　the　war。　　Indeed；　the　war　had
seriously　disturbed　the　foundations　of　Malcolm's　economic　faith；
and　he　was　seeking　a　readjustment　of　his　opinion　and　convictions；
which　were　rather　at　loose　ends。　　In　this　stat