"THE TIME HAS COME," HE SAID, LOOKING MR. WYETH IN THE EYE.
"The time has come," he said, looking Mr. Wyeth in the eye—"the time to decide. I did so long ago. The voice of liberty has spoken."
There was a murmur of assent or disagreement—it was hard to tell which—from the group of clerks.
One of the porters who stood in the doorway with folded arms exclaimed, beneath his breath, so no one heard him, "Thank God!"
Mr. Wyeth stepped forward. "I had suspected quite as much," he said. "You disgrace your name, sir. Leave my presence and eke my employment. Instanter, sir."
George walked down the hall. When he reached the door, he turned and bowed.
"Hold!" exclaimed Mr. Wyeth. "There is a letter here from your brother in England. Let us trust that he is more loyal to his country's interests and to his King. Let us trust that there is only one of your family name who does not know his duty."
He extended a letter which had arrived by a packet the previous afternoon. George took it and silently walked out into the rain.
The porter Thomas followed him and half closed the door behind him. "I thank you, Mr. Frothingham," he said, "for the words you spoke. We'll drive the 'Lobster Backs' into the ships, and turn 'em all adrift—eh, sir, will we not?"
The two grasped hands without a word, and George, stepping into the shelter of a big elm, broke the seal of the letter.