'Do you think he wouldn't be afraid to leave his house with them two
young women in it, and only a couple of men, or so?'
'Ay, but then you know,' returned Solomon Daisy, 'his house is a goodish
way out of London, and they do say that the rioters won't go more than
two miles, or three at the farthest, off the stones. Besides, you
know, some of the Catholic gentlefolks have actually sent trinkets and
suchlike down here for safety--at least, so the story goes.'
'The story goes!' said Mr Willet testily. 'Yes, sir. The story goes that
you saw a ghost last March. But nobody believes it.'
'Well!' said Solomon, rising, to divert the attention of his two
friends, who tittered at this retort: 'believed or disbelieved, it's
true; and true or not, if we mean to go to London, we must be going at
once. So shake hands, Johnny, and good night.'
'I shall shake hands,' returned the landlord, putting his into his
pockets, 'with no man as goes to London on such nonsensical errands.'
The three cronies were therefore reduced to the necessity of shaking his
elbows; having performed that ceremony, and brought from the house their
hats, and sticks, and greatcoats, they bade him good night and departed;
promising to bring him on the morrow full and true accounts of the real
state of the city, and if it were quiet, to give him the full merit of
his victory.
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