It comforted him a little when he
reflected that not an Orangeman had gone. They were loyal sons and
true, every one of them. These other ignorant Canadians might forget
what they owed to the old flag, but the Orangemen--never.
Thomas's rage against the Yankees was intensified when he saw Father
O'Flynn walking across the plover slough. Then he was sure that the
Americans and Catholics were in league against the British.
A mighty thought was conceived that day in the brain of Thomas
Shouldice, late Worshipful Master of the Carleton Place Loyal Orange
Lodge No. 23. They would celebrate the Twelfth, so they would; he'd
like to see who would stop them. Someone would stand up for the flag
that had braved a thousand years of battle and the breeze. He blew his
nose noisily on his red handkerchief when he thought of this.
They would celebrate the Twelfth! They would "walk." He would gather up
"the boys" and get someone to make a speech. They would get a fifer
from Brandon. It was the fife that could stir the heart in you! And the
fifer would play "The Protestant Boys" and "Rise, Sons of William,
Rise!" Anyone that tried to stop him would get a shirt full of sore
bones!
Thomas went home full of the plan to get back at the invaders!
Rummaging through his trunk, he found, carefully wrapped with chewing
tobacco and ground cedar, to keep the moths away, the regalia that he
had worn, proudly and defiantly, once in Montreal, when the crowd that
obstructed the triumphal march of the Orange Young Britons had to be
dispersed by the "melitia.
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