"Course we don't," said Big Harry, aloud. "But who's him?"

"I say," cried Sim, angrily, "do you want to have the mummy--mummy"-- then angrily to Barker, "Why don't you tell a fellow?"

"Myrmidons--myrmidons of"--whispered Barker.

"All raight, all raight," said Sim, impatiently, "I know--mummy-- mummidons of a brutal holygarchy down upon us?"

"And hale us off," whispered Barker, for Sim had evidently forgotten his speech.

"Yes, yes, I know," whispered Sim. Then aloud, "And hale us off--"

"Hear, hear!" roared Harry, hammering his empty mug on the table; "raight, lad, raight. Here, sum un, tell the mummy to bring the ale."

"Sit down, Harry," shouted Sim. "I say hale us off to fresh chains and slavery. I say, mates," cried Sim, now growing excited, and waving his hands about, "as the holygartchy of a brutal mummidom."

"No, no," whispered Barker, behind his hand, "Myrmidons of a brutal oligarchy."

"Yes, yes, I know," cried Sim; "but they don't. It's all the same to them. Yes, mates, a brutal mummidom, and a holygartchy, and as I was a saying, our fellow sittyzens in London have been a wackin o' 'em oop.

They've gone arm in arm, in their h.o.r.n.y-handed strength, like brave sons of tyle, with gentlemen playing their bands o' music."

"Hear, hear!"

"And colours flying--"

"Hear, hear!" and a great deal of mug rattling on the table.

"And made Pall Mall--Pall Mall--Pall Mall--"

"Hear, hear!"

"Go on," whispered Barker, "that's it--echo to their warlike tread."

"Echo to the warlike tread o' their heavy boots," cried Sim, banging his hand down upon the table.

"Hear, hear!"

"Till the bloated holygarchs a sitting in theer bloated palluses abloating theer sens."

"Brayvo, lad," shouted Big Harry; "that's faine."

"Set down and shouthered wi' fear," continued Sim; "as they--as they--do be a bit sharper," he whispered to Barker.

"Saw the nation rising in its might," whispered the prompter.

"Saw the nation rising up wi' all its might and main," cried Sim. Then to Barker, "Shall I put it into 'em now?"

"Yes, yes; they're ripe enough," was the answer.

"And now, mates," continued Sim, "it's time as we rose up in our might, and showed him as is starving our wives and bairns what we can do when we're trampled down, and that like the wums as is tread on, we can turn and sting the heel o' the oppressors."

"Good, good! Go on," said the deputation, rubbing its hands.

"Are we to see a maulkin like d.i.c.key Glaire, because he is an employer, always getting fat on the sweat of a pore man's brow?"

"Go on! go on! Capital!" whispered Barker. "Fine himage."

"What's a himage?" said Sim, stopped in his flow.

"All right, go on, man," whispered Barker; "I only said fine himage."

"As my friend and brother the deppitation says," continued Sim, "d.i.c.ky Glaire's a fine image to sit on all us like an old man o' the mountains."

"No, no, I didn't," whispered Barker.

"You did," whispered Sim. "I heerd you."

"Go on," whispered back Barker; "the time has come--go on; beautiful."

"And the time has come to go on beautiful," said Sim, waving his arms.

"No, no," whispered Barker.

"I wish yow'd howd thee tongue altogether," whispered Sim. "You do nowt but put me out."

"Go on, brayvo!" cried the men.

"Now, don't you interrupt me no more," whispered Sim, in an aggrieved tone; "that aint a bit like as you writ it down, and I shall say it my own way-er. And, mates," he continued aloud, "the time has come when we've got to tak' our heads from under the despot's heels, when we've got to show 'em 'ow they depends upon the sons of tyle; and teach 'em as all men's ekal, made o' the same flesh and blood, eddication or no eddication; and if d.i.c.key Glaire won't gi'e uz a fair day's wuck for a fair day's pay."

"No, no, other way on," whispered the deputation.

"You let me alone; I'm getting on better wi'out you," whispered Sim.

Then aloud, "They'll hev' to change places wi' us, and see how they like it then. Now, who's that?" cried Sim, as a loud knocking was heard. "A man can't get a word in edgeways."

"Who knocks wi'out?" cried the first sentry.

"Open the door," said a loud voice.

"Who knocks wi'out?" said the sentry again.

"Open the door, fool!" said the rough voice again.

"Give the pa.s.s-word," said the sentry.

"Open the door before I kick it down," cried the voice.

"Look out, lads," cried Sim, excitedly, as he left the chair. "It's the police. Tak down them flags, and shove the swords out o' sight. It's the police."

There was a rush, and the flags were hurriedly pulled down and folded up, while the swords were placed under the table.