The latter, hearing the disturbance, had pushed himself out of the great leather chair in his library, and had stepped to the door.
"Did any one call my name?" he asked; then catching sight of Abel's dripping figure, "Well, sir," he said, "what means this, prithee?"
"It means," said Abel, "that there has been a battle near Boston. It means that war is on."
"Another Tea Party, I presume," said Mr. Wyeth, taking a pinch of snuff calmly, and dusting his shirt frill with a stroke of his fingers.
"No, sir," exclaimed the chief clerk. "His Majesty's troops have been defeated, and driven, with great slaughter, back from Concord and Lexington to the protection of the city. The rebels are organized, well drilled and armed."
"Hurrah!" said a voice quite audibly.
Everybody started back in consternation; Mr. Wyeth dropped his snuff-box with a jingle.
"Who said that?" he asked, his face turning a shade redder.
George stepped forward. He was pale, and his hands were gripped strongly together behind his back.
