“No, but I wish ye success,” mocked Berwick. “But I’m ganging!”
They all laughed.
“Even if he did want to inform—there won’t be time,” cried Porter. “To-day is Thursday and on Saturday—”
“We shall be meeting on Turnham Green!” shouted another.
“To drink the health of the King over the water!”
“God save His Majesty!”
“Down with little Hooknose!”
“Saturday—and don’t be afraid of breaking the glass windows, Mr. Porter!”
“Nor of frightening the horses!” shrieked Celia Hunt.
Through this hubbub rose Berwick’s voice: