“I don’t know the young fellow,” said Dr Drummond. “but they say he’s of good character, not over-solid, but bears a clean reputation.  They’re all Tories together, of course, the Ormistons.”

“It’s an old U. E. Loyalist family,” remarked Advena.  “Mr Ormiston has one or two rather interesting Revolutionary trophies at his house out there.”

“None the worse for that.  None the worse for that,” said Dr Drummond.

“Old Ormiston’s father,” contributed the editor of the Express, “had a Crown grant of the whole of Moneida Reservation at one time.  Government actually bought it back from him to settle the Indians there.  He was a well-known Family Compact man, and fought tooth and nail for the Clergy Reserves in ’fifty.”

“Well, well,” said Dr Drummond, with a twinkle.  “We’ll hope young Ormiston is innocent, nevertheless.”

“Nasty business for the Federal Bank if he is,” Mr Williams went on.  “They’re a pretty unpopular bunch as it is.”

“Of course he’s innocent,” contributed Stella, with indignant eyes; “and when they prove it, what can he do to the bank for taking him up?  That’s what I want to know.”

Her elders smiled indulgently.  “A lot you know about it, kiddie,” said Oliver.  It was the only remark he made during the meal.  Alec passed the butter assiduously, but said nothing at all.  Adolescence was inarticulate in Elgin on occasions of ceremony.

“I hear they’ve piled up some big evidence,” said Mr Williams.  “Young Ormiston’s been fool enough to do some race-betting lately.  Minnie, I wish you’d get Mrs Murchison to show you how to pickle pears.  Of course,” he added, “they’re keeping it up their sleeve.”

“It’s a hard place to keep evidence,” said Lorne Murchison at last with a smile which seemed to throw light on the matter.  They had all been waiting, more or less consciously, for what Lorne would have to say.

“Lorne, you’ve got it!” divined his mother instantly.

“Got what, Mother?”

“The case!  I’ve suspected it from the minute the subject was mentioned!  That case came in today!”

“And you sitting there like a bump on a log, and never telling us!” exclaimed Stella, with reproach.

“Stella, you have a great deal too much to say,” replied her brother.  “Suppose you try sitting like a bump on a log.  We won’t complain.  Yes, the Squire seems to have made up his mind about the defence, and my seniors haven’t done much else today.”

“Rawlins saw him hitched up in front of your place for about two hours this morning,” said Mr Williams.  “I told him I thought that was good enough, but we didn’t say anything, Rawlins having heard it was to be Flynn from Toronto.  And I hadn’t forgotten the Grand Trunk case we put down to you last week without exactly askin’.  Your old man was as mad as a hornet—­wanted to stop his subscription; Rawlins had no end of a time to get round him.  Little things like that will creep in when you’ve got to trust to one man to run the whole local show.  But I didn’t want the Mercury to have another horse on us.”