Roses for the P.M.

The House of Commons looked like a Sunday school class on Mother's Day. Every Liberal sported a red rose in his lapel. On the front-row desk of Prime Minister Mackenzie King stood a huge white vase filled with red roses. Thus was the P.M., recovered from a heavy cold, welcomed back to the House after three weeks' absence.

Members slapped their desks in applause as the P.M. walked in. The Progressive Conservatives' John Bracken, the CCF's M. J. Coldwell, the Social Crediters' Solon Low, and Independent Liberal Jean Francois Pouliot each greeted the Prime Minister in turn and in effusive phrases. Then Mr. King rose to speak. He looked wan and haggard. His face, ruddy before his illness, was pale and drawn. For the first time the redoubtable and enduring William Lyon Mackenzie King looked all of his 72 years. Nor did his voice have its accustomed ring as he thanked members and added: "I shall do my best to be on hand right along, but if I should find it desirable to take things a little easy for a short time I know I may count on the understanding of ... the House."

Through the rest of the week Mr. King attended Parliament only occasionally. He stopped in at Cabinet meetings and was obviously too tired to make more than a show of running things. To no one's great surprise, all this stepped up rumors flooding Parliament Hill that a retirement might be imminent, that at long last the P.M. was thinking hard about nominating a successor. But who--and when?

Top Government officials & backbenchers were generally agreed that within six months or so Mr. King would call the first Liberal Convention to pick a new leader since 1919. By shifting the responsibilities of party leadership on to willing younger shoulders, ailing Mr. King might still be able to stay on as Prime Minister until April 20, 1948, thus break Walpole's Empire record.

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