that soared for an instant clear of the din, only to be overtaken
and drowned in the mighty shout of approval. This was followed by
a stampede from the table; the banners were caught up with a
mighty shout and carried around the room; Morris, boy for the
moment, springing to his feet and joining in the uproar.

The only guest who kept his chair, except Peter and myself, was a
young fellow two seats away, whose eyes, brilliant with
excitement, followed the merrymaking, but who seemed too much
abashed, or too ill at ease, to join in the fun. I had noticed how
quiet he was and wondered at the cause. Peter had also been
watching the boy and had said to me that he had a good face and
was evidently from out of town.

"Why don't you get up?" Peter called to him at last. "Up with you,
my lad. This is one of the times when every one of you young
fellows should be on your feet." He would have grabbed a banner
himself had any one given him the slightest encouragement.

"I would, sir, but I'm out of it," said the young man with a
deferential bow, moving to the empty seat next to Peter. He too
had been glancing at Peter from time to time.

"Aren't you with Mr. Morris?"

"No, I wish I were. I came with my friend, Garry Minott, that
young fellow carrying the banner with 'Corn Exchange' marked on
it."

"And may I ask, then, what you do?" continued Peter.