"You have no warrant for these observations, gentlemen," said Jemmy, indignantly.
Still the fire-bells rang on with undiminished fury, and numbers of people were seen running across the square—shouting loudly as they hurried along.
"Where is the fire?" cried Beppy.
"It must be in the neighbourhood of the collegiate church," replied Mr. Lewthwaite. "All the houses are old in that quarter, and built of timber. Half the town will be consumed. That will be lamentable, but it will not be surprising, since the inhabitants have assuredly called down a judgment upon their heads from their propensity to rebellion."
Jemmy Dawson, who had great difficulty in controlling his anger, was about to make a sharp rejoinder to this speech, when a look from Monica checked him.
Just then several men ran past, and he hailed one of them, who stopped.
"Can you tell me where the fire is?" he asked.
"There be no fire, sir," replied the man, with a grin.
"No fire!" exclaimed Jemmy, astounded. "Why, then, are the fire-bells being rung thus loudly?"
"To collect a mob, if yo mun know," rejoined the man.