Silvery soft by the forest side, Wine-red, yellow and rose,
The Wizard of Autumn, faint-blue eyed,
Swinging his censer, goes.
—ABCHIBALD LAMPMAN.
 
As the tenth of October approached, there was but one subject of interest in the township of Oro—the Elmbrook fall fair. "The show," it was called, the name indicating that there could be only one. It was as much a social as an agricultural function. Oro was largely a Scottish township, and on show day there was a gathering¹ of the clans² from far and near. Old friends who never saw each other between fairs, met on that day, and had a grand review, both in Gaelic and English, of the year's doings, and the alien who did not "have" the former language missed half the benefit of the institution.
 
On the evening before the fair, Gilbert was surprised by a visit from Malcolm Cameron. The boy had left for college only two weeks before, but, like many other sons of Oro, he had come back for "the show."
 
"Say," he began, balancing himself on the corner of the doctor's desk, "I'm going to ask you a most awfully³ big favor."
 
"Ask away," said the other, smiling; "it's granted, if I can do it."
 
"Oh, say, you're the best chap in the country. Elsie would kill me if she knew, but you won't let on, will you? I've got to take her to the show in our single buggy. Jim's taking mother and Uncle Hughie in the double rig, and all our truck has to come home in it, and you know—well—Marjorie's going with her father and mother, and I might drive her home if Elsie had some one to go with, and I thought—if you hadn't made any other arrangements, I thought, perhaps——"
 
"That Miss Cameron might come home with me?" interposed Gilbert, coming to his aid. "Why, I'd be delighted; that is, if she wouldn't mind."
 
"Oh, Elsie'd be tickled⁴ to death!" cried Elsie's brother, growing reckless in his gratitude⁵. "Say, doctor, it's awfully decent of you. You see, I won't see Marjorie again till Christmas, likely—and—you know——"
 
"Yes, yes, I understand," said Gilbert sympathetically. "I wonder if I might ask to take your sister there, and you'd have two drives with Miss Scott," he added, with wonderful generosity⁶.
 
"I thought of that myself," said Malcolm ingenuously⁷, "but mother wouldn't let Elsie do that, and it would just be like Mrs. Scott to object, too; but they won't say anything about just driving home. You'll ask Elsie at the show, will you? You're a brick; and don't give it away, or she'd pull all my hair out when we got home."
 
The Elmbrook fair was held in the Agricultural Hall, about two miles from the village. Those who had no horses started off on the happy means of transportation called "chancing it." This consisted in walking along the highway for a short distance, on the sure chance of being picked up by some passing vehicle, for an Oro buggy was like a city street car, and always held one more.
 
Gilbert started out alone, and overtook Hannah and Jake Sawyer straying along the dusty roadside, early for once in their lives, having been spurred to the unusual achievement by the energy of the orphans⁸.
 
Little Joey trotted¹⁰ between them, but Tim had gone to the show in the morning, with Keturah, the cow, and Isaac and Rebekah and the pumpkins¹¹; and the twins were far ahead, their parents knew not where. Gilbert took Hannah and Joey in with him, and they joined the long line of vehicles that had already formed and was winding¹² swiftly down the highway.
 
Overhead the sky was deeply brilliant, and near the horizon a tender, misty¹³ blue. The golden landscape was lit with patches of gay woodland, and here and there by the roadside a scarlet¹⁴ maple¹⁵, a clump¹⁶ of flaming sumach, or the blood-red vine of the woodbine. High up on the top of a dead tree-trunk, in the center of a smoky hollow, a flicker¹⁷ was shouting out derisively¹⁸, "Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut!" in scorn of all this frivolous¹⁹ humanity gone a-fairing.
 
The procession crossed the railroad track just as the afternoon express went thundering past. The conductor caught sight of the doctor's buggy, and blew him a salute²⁰ that set all the horses upon their hind²¹ legs in indignant alarm.
 
A smart vehicle dashed past in a cloud of dust. It was Miss Long, driving her own horse, with Sawed-Off Wilmott by her side, his chestnut²² driver having been sent on ahead in charge of a friend.
 
"Ella Anne's goin' to show her horse," said Hannah admiringly. "She's took first prize every year for ever so long. She's a wonderful driver."
 
"Dere's Lorry!" screamed Joey, pointing to a little tousled black head peeping from between Malcolm Cameron and his sister, just a little in advance.
 
"Elsie's awful good to her," said Hannah gratefully. "Her an' Arabella Winters jist makes a pet o' that child. Lorry says they've got a secret, the three o' them, and she feels that big about it you never saw the likes! Why, that's Lenny's voice, ain't it?"
 
From a buggy a little farther down the line greetings were being shrieked²³ back to the black-haired twin. Hannah drew a deep sigh of content.
 
"Well, now, there's every single one o' them settled," she exclaimed happily. "If Jake jist gets a chance, now, an' Timmy gets a prize for his pumpkins, we jist won't have anythin' more to ask."
 
The Elmbrook fair ground was a long field, with a big, barn-like building at one end. Gilbert had often passed the place before, and found it silent and grass-grown; but now it was thronged²⁶ with people, and resounding²⁷ with a joyous²⁸ bedlam²⁹ of all the noises that all the farms in Oro, joined together, could produce. Horses neighed, cattle bawled³⁰, sheep bleated³¹, hens cackled, babies cried and boys shouted. A merry-go-round, that charged only five cents for a horseback ride, was whirling giddily to the tune³² of "The Maple Leaf Forever." As the doctor guided his horse carefully through the thronged gateway³³ Joey spied the twins, already mounted astride the largest team, and spinning around with joyous shrieks³⁴. A man with a wheel of fortune was shouting to the passers-by to come and take a turn, and make money enough to buy a farm. A row of tents, each with its roaring proprietor³⁵ in front, held all sorts of wonderful spectacles, from a three-headed pig to a panorama³⁶ of Queen Victoria's Jubilee³⁷. In front of a large tent, set off in one corner, a solemn, stout³⁸ man, wrapped in a white winding-sheet, was marching to and fro, ringing a funereal³⁹ bell, and calling out in melancholy⁴⁰ tones that this was the last chance for dinner.
 
But above all the various clamor one sound arose, penetrating⁴¹, triumphant⁴², the sound that was the true voice of the Elmbrook fair, and without which it would surely have died away in silence—the high, thrilling skirl of the bagpipes⁴³. The piper, splendid in kilt and plaid and bare knees, was marching magnificently from the hall to the racing⁴⁴ track. Lesser⁴⁵ beings had to push and jostle through the throng²⁵, but he had a long lane sacred to his own footsteps, and no matter what new attraction appeared, he always had his following of gaping⁴⁶ admirers.
 
Young ladies, with their attendant swains, in holiday attire⁴⁷, wandered about arm in arm, eating peanuts. Some lovers, of the old-fashioned type, who plainly knew very little of the requirements of fashion, went about hand in hand, and were the object of many witty⁴⁸ remarks on the part of those who followed the more up-to-date method. Farmers with long beards, their backs bent⁴⁹ with honest toil⁵⁰, collected around the show horses, or sat in the high buggies, round-shouldered and content, and smoked and chewed and spat⁵¹, and were, withal, supremely⁵² happy. Whole family circles, the young father proudly carrying the baby, the mother holding as many as possible by the hand, revolved⁵³ in an aimless but joyous orbit. Old women in plaid shawls gathered in groups near the piper's avenue, and talked a continuous stream of Gaelic.
 
The hall, containing the product of the women's deft⁵⁴ fingers, stood near the gates. At one side was a long shed devoted⁵⁵ to the display of farm produce, and the homely⁵⁶ place was beautiful with scarlet apples, golden pumpkins, cabbages opening like great, pale-green roses, and heaps of purple grapes and plums. Opposite this, in a corner, the cattle and sheep, and other farm stock, were herded⁵⁷, each living creature lifting up its voice in protest against the sudden disturbance⁵⁸ of its hitherto even and well-ordered life. At the end of the field, opposite the gate, a rocky and uneven⁵⁹ road, in the shape of an ellipse, served as the race track. A grand-stand, formed by nature from a grassy⁶⁰ knoll⁶¹, covered with sweet-smelling pines, rose at one side, and made a convenient and delightful⁶² resting place.
 
Having handed Hannah and Joey over to Jake, who arrived in a neighbor's buggy, just behind them, Gilbert tied his horse and wandered about, shaking hands and looking at the prizes. He was captured by Tim and Davy, the former in a state of wild excitement, because his pumpkins had taken first prize, and Davy's only second. On the other hand, Keturah, his cow, had taken only third; but old Sandy McKitterick had said that Spectacle John was judge, and that he didn't know a cow from a giraffe. And Isaac and Rebekah had taken first, anyhow, and the doctor must come and see the red tickets on them. Gilbert started off through the crowd, but fell a captive by the way. As he passed a Gaelic-speaking group of checked shawls he was grasped violently by the sleeve and forced into the circle.
 
"There she will be now. Jist be takin' a look at her, whatefer. Och, hoch! this is what you would be doing!" And the young doctor smiled radiantly and blushed like a schoolboy, for there was Mrs. McKitterick herself, surrounded by an admiring crowd, and enjoying her first show in ten years! The hero was petted and praised in two languages, and clapped on the back and admired, until he was overwhelmed with confusion. He was rescued from his embarrassment⁶³ by the impatient orphan⁹ and dragged off to witness the triumph of Isaac and Rebekah. When the geese had been sufficiently⁶⁴ admired, and even poor Keturah's small achievement duly noted⁶⁵, the doctor escaped, and making a wide detour⁶⁶ of the tartan shawls, found his way to the grand-stand. Here, seated on the dry pine-needles, under a spreading tree, was a group of three: Malcolm Cameron, with his sister and the minister's daughter.
 
"Hello, doctor!" cried the boy joyfully⁶⁷. "I've been looking all over for you. Come along. We're going to the hall."
 
"What's to be seen there?" asked Gilbert, helping⁶⁸ the ladies to rise.
 
"Well, for one thing, there's your new mitts⁶⁹."
 
"Hush⁷⁰, Malcolm!" cried his sister. "Mrs. McKitterick wanted it kept a secret."
 
"Great Caesar! Would you let a pair of shackles⁷¹ like that be sprung on an innocent man without a moment's warning?"
 
"What's this?" asked Gilbert, in the alarm that the name of old Mrs. McKitterick always raised in his breast. "What's going to happen now?"
 
"It's only a pair of mittens⁷², Dr. Allen," said Miss Marjorie. "Mrs. McKitterick knit them, and if they take first prize they are to be given to you."
 
"It was too bad to tell," said Elsie.
 
"No, it wasn't!" cried her brother. "They're to be presented to him at Christmas, and he'll need three months to get resigned. Come along and see them."
 
As they threaded their way toward the hall Malcolm glanced at the other young man significantly. Gilbert understood.
 
"Miss Cameron," he said, "I am all alone in my buggy. Won't you drive home with me?"
 
She glanced up at him with one of her swift, searching looks. "Did Malcolm ask you to relieve him?" she whispered. This strong, grave girl did not often laugh, Gilbert had noticed, but when she was amused her eyes danced. They were sparklingly radiant now.
 
He felt his face growing hot. "I—I——" he began.
 
"Oh, never mind," she cried, and this time she permitted her lips to join her eyes in a smile. "Don't apologize. I know why he did it. He's so transparent⁷⁴, poor lad. I knew last night, when he went over to see you, that he had some tremendous scheme on foot."
 
"But you are not going to punish me for his sins, surely?" said Gilbert, recovering. "If you knew with how much pleasure I grasped the opportunity you would come. Won't you?"
 
"Oh, yes," she answered frankly⁷⁵. "It would be too bad to spoil poor Malc's happy day; and besides," she added, with a return of her grave dignity, "I am sure I shall enjoy the drive, thank you."
 
Gilbert felt strangely grateful. The girl always made him feel as though she were immeasurably above him. "Because she really is, I suppose," he concluded, as he watched her, and thought of all she was sacrificing, silently, for the careless, happy boy walking so gaily⁷⁶ ahead. Yes, she was very noble, he confessed. And then he sighed, he did not know why.
 
They squeezed their way into the building and passed slowly around. The long tables were piled with every sort of work that a woman's needle might encompass⁷⁷, and while the two girls examined each exhibit minutely, going into raptures⁷⁸ over this or that, the two young men gazed vacantly about in weary bewilderment. There were doilies and tidies and pillow-covers of all patterns, crocheted⁷⁹ lace and knitted lace and lace made every other way. There was painting on china and satin and velvet⁸⁰ and silk and every other known fabric⁸¹, and the walls were hung with homespun blankets, quilts and floor rugs.
 
Notwithstanding the growing display and keen competition that each successive fair brought, there were those who had been winners of first prizes ever since the Elmbrook show was instituted, and would probably always be. The Elmbrook prize-list was a stable institution, and if any one but Ella Anne Long should have taken first for managing a horse, or Bella Winters for painting apple blossoms on white velvet, or old Miss McQuarry for bread and butter, all Oro would have felt uneasy, and folks would have begun to doubt the stability of the British Empire.
 
For example, there was Mrs. Spectacle John Cross's quilt. It had taken first prize for the last ten years, and was likely to do so for as many more. It hung resplendent now, like a triumphal banner, the conqueror⁸³ of yet one more campaign. It was a remarkable⁸⁴ quilt, to be sure, and no wonder all competitors faded before it. It was composed entirely⁸⁵ of small pieces of silk and velvet, sewed together in that style known as crazy patchwork⁸⁶. Nevertheless, there was nothing haphazard⁸⁷ about their arrangement. The colors were put together so as to represent a landscape. A large round sun, of pumpkin-colored silk, with rays of red satin flying from it, arose from behind a mountain of green velvet. The sky was of blue silk, with white plush clouds, and in the foreground bloomed a flower garden of such various colors that the eye grew dazzled in contemplation.
 
"Here's your Minjekahwun, doctor," whispered Malcolm, grasping Gilbert's arm. "Ain't they lurid⁸⁸? Oh, crickey! they've got first prize! You're in for it! You'll look like the prize quilt when you get inside 'em."
 
The future owner of the mittens surveyed them in some dismay. They were long and roomy, even for his brawny⁸⁹ hands, and of many and vivid colors. He looked around appealingly. Elsie Cameron's face was grave, but her eyes were laughing, while little Miss Scott was in a fit of merriment.
 
"Cheer up," cried Malcolm encouragingly. "They're the very thing to catch the public. You've got the purple and the orange, and that'll suit Spectacle John's crowd; and the green'll appeal to the Catholics over on the flats; and the whole thing looks like Highland⁹⁰ tartan. Why, there isn't a nationality in Oro that'll be able to resist you when you wear them."
 
They emerged from the crowded building into the brilliant light of o............