much political venom in you,” laughed Anne, who was not much excited over the tidings. Little Jem had said “Wow-ga” that morning. What were principalities and powers, the rise and fall of dynasties, the overthrow of Grit or Tory, compared with that miraculous occurrence?
“It’s been accumulating for a long while,” said Captain Jim, with a deprecating smile. “I thought I was only a moderate Grit, but when the news came that we were in I found out how Gritty I really was.”
“You know the doctor and I are Conservatives.”
“Ah, well, it’s the only bad thing I know of either of you, Mistress Blythe. Cornelia is a Tory, too. I called in on my way from the Glen to tell her the news.”
“Didn’t you know you took your life in your hands?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t resist the temptation.”
“How did she take it?”
“Comparatively calm, Mistress Blythe, comparatively calm. She says, says she, ‘Well, Providence sends seasons of humiliation to a country, same as to individuals. You Grits have been cold and hungry for many a year. Make haste to get warmed and fed, for you won’t be in long.’ ‘Well, now Cornelia,’ I says, ‘mebbe Providence thinks Canada needs a real long spell of humiliation.’ Ah, Susan, have you heard the news? The Liberals are in.”
Susan had just come in from the kitchen, attended
