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of his colleagues.
    “I want to hear Mr. Smallwood explain how joining Canada has
     merit,” Dot said. “It can’t make us worse off than we are right now.” A constant
     hum of voices sizzled the air like an electrical charge. More people packed into
     the auditoriumsized room, bumping and pushing others into the aisles.
    “I hope this meeting doesn’t turn angry,” Henry said, keeping a protective eye
     on his grandmother. “Folks get riled up awful easy about politics these
     days.”
    “I can’t hear myself think with all this noise,” Dot shouted.
    Henry saw Joey converse with the man sitting to his right. The man smiled,
     exuding complete confidence. Joey rearranged the papers in front of him then
     scanned the waiting crowd. He pulled a white handkerchief from inside his suit
     jacket and cleaned his wire-rimmed glasses with meticulous care. He put the
     glasses on, neatly refolded the handkerchief, and returned it to his
     pocket.
    Dot tugged on Henry’s arm to get his attention. “Let’s get closer,” she said,
     and made to push through the crowd. “I want to have a closer look at Mr.
     Smallwood.”
    “No, Gran,” Henry said, holding her back. “It’s safer back here, and easier to
     get out if anything happens.”
    Joey drank a full glass of water. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his eyes
     roaming over the people. The deafening hum faded to silence. “It fills me with
     great pride to see so many Newfoundlanders gathered here tonight. It thrills and
     excites me. I am overjoyed, but most of all, proud. Proud to see that you have
     taken a keen interest in this pivotal issue. We will embark on a discussion that
     will without a doubt change the course of history.”
    Dot made a clucking sound. “Takes him a while to get ’round to the point. I
     must admit,” she added, “you can’t deny he’s an eloquent speaker.”
    Joey hooked his thumbs in his breast pockets, an air of
     authority about him. “We are a moderate-sized island with a small population. If
     we continue to stand alone, there is nothing but bleakness ahead.” He paused to
     look around the room, his gaze fixed from time to time on one person or another.
     “Poverty will increase. The way of life we treasure above all else will blur
     into the past.” He paused again. “I have struggled, not for one year, not for
     two.” His raised fingers to match each number. “Not for three, not even for ten,
     but for twenty years to find the means to make Newfoundland the best it can be
     for Newfoundlanders. My friends, Confederation is the answer. Canada is a vast
     country, a rich country, one that will bestow all its advantages on its newest
     province.”
    “And be Canada’s lapdog instead of England’s !” A man in the front row
     said.
    “You got that right,” the man directly behind him added. “Responsible
     Government is the way to go.”
    Joey raised a steady hand to his glasses, adjusting them more snugly around his
     ears. “Mr. Jones and Mr. Murphy,” he said, addressing the two men who had
     interrupted him. “As Canadians, we will have the freedom to govern our province
     the way we feel will benefit each and every one of us. England has ruled us with
     an iron fist. Canada will simply guide us with a helping hand.”
    A man in his sixties seated in the second-to-last row stood up. “We had Yanks
     and Canadians here in droves during the war. I for one have had enough of
     foreigners telling us how to live proper.”
    A woman next to him half rose from her chair. “Me and my man can hardly make
     ends meet with ten youngsters. I say we give Mr. Smallwood a chance to tell us
     what benefits we’d get if we became Canadians.”
    “I was born a Newfoundlander,” a white-haired mansaid from the
     centre of the room, “and intend to die a Newfoundlander, not a bloody
     Canadian.”
    Three-quarters of the people applauded.
    “I say we listen to what Mr. Smallwood has to say,” a young woman