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Neelands. "No horse can go out of here today," answered Bertie. "Mr. Crocks says there'll be storm, and he won't take no chances on his horses. He says people can judge for themselves and run risks if they want to, he'll decide for the horses and they can't go." "O, all right," said Mr. Neelands. "How far is it to the Watson farm?" "Are you going out?" asked Bertie.
Neelands found himself facing a brown-eyed, well-dressed young lady, with big question marks in both eyes, question marks which in a very dignified way demanded to know what it was all about. In his confusion, Mr. Neelands, new in the art of diplomacy, blundered: "Is this Miss Watson?" he stammered. The reply was definite. "It is not, and why did you call me." Icicles began to hang from the roof.
"Well, thank God, he's not dead anyway," he gasped at last. "But I fancy," murmured Mr. Driggs, "that he is dead to the cause!" "Make a speech, Pearl," cried one of the company. "Mr. Neelands would like to hear you do that one of the Premier's, when he laid the cornerstone, about 'the generations yet unborn. Go on, Pearl, that's a good one!"
Neelands walked joyously on, while behind him there gathered one of the worst blizzards that the Souris Valley has known.
She hasn't got the style that Pearl has she rides a lot and has nerve and all that, but she's bow-legged!" His tone was indescribably scornful. Mr. Neelands gasped. "Yep," went on Bertie complacently, "we see a lot here at the stable and get to know a lot one way'n another we can't help it. They come and go, you know." "The doctor won't run for Parliament he turned it down. Mrs.
She would try to keep her face in the right direction. Here was prejudice, narrowness, suspicion, downright injustice and cruelty of this she was sure there were other elements, other complications of which she had no knowledge. Peter Neelands had told her the Government was watching her, but she had not taken it seriously.
People who have business with the teachers generally do come to the school not to the livery stable," she added, in exactly the tone in which she would have said "All who have failed to get fifty per cent. in arithmetic will remain after four," a tone which would be described as stern, but just. Mr. Neelands leaned against a box-stall as Miss Morrison passed out.
The news of P.J. Neelands' resignation from the Young Men's Political Club made a ripple of excitement in Government circles, and brought forth diverse comments. "There's a girl in it, I hear," said one of the loungers at the Maple Leaf Club; "some pretty little suffragette has won over our Peter."
The big storm had demoralized the long-distance telephone service, so, that it was by night lettergram that George Steadman was commissioned by the official organizer of the Government to find P.J. Neelands, who had not been heard of since the morning of the storm. Mr. Steadman was somewhat at a loss to know how to proceed. He was very sorry about Mr. Neelands and his reported disappearance. Mr.
Bertie, for once, was speechless he seemed to be gazing on his own better self the vision he would like to see when he sought his mirror. "I would like to get a team for a short run," said Mr. Neelands politely. "Where you goin'," asked Bertie. Mr. Neelands hesitated, and became tactful.
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