"By Joe, if I hadn't known you as a kid"
"You wouldn't realize how beautifully consistent my attitude has been throughout," Paul finished it.
"Beautifully crazy!" interposed Mr. Dreer, with a snort.
"As you decide," replied Paul.
"It's not a time for fancy phrases," pronounced Mr. Dreer severely.
"Then why do you publicly indulge in them?" Paul inquired. He alluded to meetings in the town hall and at Bridgetown.
"That's my affair, sir. I'm too old to carry a gun."
"Yes, aren't you glad?"
"Damn you—your insolence has gone beyond the limit."
Paul's wrath came to the surface. He had not sought the quarrel. "What do you expect of a crazy man?" he retorted, and strode away, leaving father and son to assure each other of their moral advantage.
He knew he had gone beyond the limit this time—of discretion, if not of insolence. There were bound to be consequences; but he almost welcomed them. Anything would be better than the present negative status. Even the illusion of Phœbe's support was gone.
The sequel to the passage at arms with Mr. Dreer came a few weeks later in the form of a summons to appear before a special board in Halifax and explain alleged statements of a seditious character. Then only did Paul realize how many enemies he had made. Mr. Dreer, with the aid of his son and the Baptist minister, had compiled the evidence. There were records of conversations with men in the shipyard—some of them fairly accurate, literally, but robbed of the context, lacking the ironical stress and the qualifying clauses that had characterized Paul's utterances. Not once had he advanced his views without provocation; not once had he
