"I don't care, they are," insisted Isabel. "And there is Mr. McPherson, Jane," she added, her sharp eyes catching sight of their Winnipeg minister through the crowd. "He's coming this way. What are the people all waiting for, Jane?"The Reverend Andrew McPherson was a tall, slight, dark man, straight but for the student's stoop of his shoulders, and with a strikingly Highland Scotch cast of countenance, high cheek bones, keen blue eyes set deep below a wide forehead, long jaw that clamped firm lips together. He came straight to where Mr. Murray and Dr. Brown were standing.
"I have just received from a friend in Winnipeg the most terrible news," he said in a low voice. "Germany has declared war on Russia and France.""War! War! Germany!" exclaimed the men in awed, hushed voices, a startled look upon their grave faces.
"What is it, James?" said Mrs. Murray.
Mr. Murray repeated the news to her.
"Germany at war?" she said. "I thought it was Austria and Servia.
Isn't it?"
"Yes, my dear," said Mr. Murray hastily, as if anxious to cover up his wife's display of ignorance of the European situation.
"Austria has been at war with Servia for some days, but now Germany has declared war apparently upon France and Russia.""But what has Germany to do with it, or Russia either, or France?"They moved off together from the docks toward the church, discussing the ominous news.
"Oh, look, Jane," said Isabel once more. "There's Ramsay Dunn.
Isn't he looking funny?"
"Pickled, I guess," said Jim, with a glance at the young man who with puffed and sodden face was gazing with dull and stupid eyes across the lake. On catching sight of the approaching party Ramsay Dunn turned his back sharply upon them and became intensely absorbed in the launch at his side. But Jane would not have it thus.
"Ask him to come over this afternoon," she said to Ethel. "His mother would like it.""Good morning, Ramsay," said Ethel as they passed him.
Ramsay turned sharply, stood stiff and straight, then saluted with an elaborate bow. "Good morning, Ethel. Why, good morning, Jane.
You down here? Delighted to see you."
"Ramsay, could you come over this afternoon to our island?" said Ethel. "Jane is going back this week.""Sure thing, Ethel. Nothing but scarlet fever, small-pox, or other contectious or infagious, confagious or intexious--eh, disease will prevent me. The afternoon or the evening?" he added with what he meant to be a most ingratiating smile. "The late afternoon or the early evening?"The little girls, who had been staring at him with wide, wondering eyes, began to giggle.
"I'll be there," continued Ramsay. "I'll be there, I'll be there, when the early evening cometh, I'll be there." He bowed deeply to the young ladies and winked solemnly at Isabel, who by this time was finding it quite impossible to control her giggles.
"Isn't he awfully funny?" she said as they moved off. "I think he is awfully funny.""Funny!" said Ethel. "Disgusting, I think."
"Oh, Ethel, isn't it terribly sad?" said Jane. "Poor Mrs. Dunn, she feels so awfully about it. They say he is going on these days in a perfectly dreadful way."The little brick church was comfortably filled with the townsfolk and with such of the summer visitors as had not "left their religion behind them in Winnipeg," as Jane said. The preacher was a little man whose speech betrayed his birth, and the theology and delivery of whose sermon bore the unmistakable marks of his Edinburgh training. He discoursed in somewhat formal but in finished style upon the blessings of rest, with obvious application to the special circumstances of the greater part of his audience who had come to this most beautiful of all Canada's beautiful spots seeking these blessings. To further emphasise the value of their privileges, he contrasted with their lot the condition of unhappy Servia now suffering from the horrors of war and threatened with extinction by its tyrannical neighbour, Austria. The war could end only in one way. In spite of her gallant and heroic fight Servia was doomed to defeat. But a day of reckoning would surely come, for this was not the first time that Austria had exercised its superior power in an act of unrighteous tyranny over smaller states. The God of righteousness was still ruling in his world, and righteousness would be done.
At the close of the service, while they were singing the final hymn, Mr. McPherson, after a whispered colloquy with Mr. Murray, made his way to the pulpit, where he held an earnest conversation with the minister. Instead of pronouncing the benediction and dismissing the congregation when the final "Amen" had been sung, the minister invited the people to resume their seats, when Mr. McPherson rose and said, "Friends, we have just learned that a great and terrible evil has fallen upon the world. Five days ago the world was shocked by the announcement that Austria had declared war upon Servia. Through these days the powers of Europe, or at least some of them, and chief among them Great Britain, have been labouring to localise the war and to prevent its extension. To-day the sad, the terrible announcement is made that Germany has declared war upon both Russia and France. What an hour may bring forth, we know not. But not in our day, or in our fathers' day, have we faced so great a peril as we face to-day. For we cannot forget that our Empire is held by close and vital ties to the Republic of France in the entente cordiale. Let us beseech Almighty God to grant a speedy end to war and especially to guide the King's counsellors that they may lead this Empire in the way that is wise and right and honourable."In the brief prayer that followed there fell upon the people an overpowering sense of the futility of man's wisdom, and of the need of the might and wisdom that are not man's but God's.
