“Shoot the door, fools,” he said sharply; and then, as it was closed, he turned on Barker, who, rising, said smoothly,
“May I ask what our friend, Mr Joseph Banks, wants here at a private meeting?”
“Let me tackle him, mate,” said Sim. “Here’s a cheer here, Maister Banks; come an’ sit along-side me. Yow’ve come to join uz then, at last?”
“Yes,” said Banks, shortly, as he beckoned Tom Podmore to his side.
“I always said he would, lads,” cried Sim. “I always said it. He’s seen the error of his ways, and come to join the brotherhood, and clasp the honest horny hand o’ labour. He’s a paytriot at heart, is Maister Banks, and I knew as he’d come at last.”
“But,” said Barker, “our friend is not yet one of the brotherhood.”
“What?” said Banks sharply.
“Our friend has not taken the oaths,” said Barker.
“Oaths—Brotherhood”—cried Banks. “Don’t I tell you I join you? What more do you want?”
“You leave Joe Banks to me, lads, and I’ll explain,” said Sim, confidentially. “You see, Joe Banks, we binds and ties oursens together wi’ oaths like in a holy bond, and sweers brotherly love. Don’t you see?”