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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