It is
because his son got his death fighting for his queen and his country
a year ago, and on his death-bed bade him do his best to drive the
fever from your doors, and shelter you and save you from the Union in
your old age. Is that a thing to burn him for?'
'We want no Irish papists here!' shouted a blackguard voice.
'Serve him with the same sauce.'
'I never was a papist,' was the indignant reply. 'No more was he;
but I've said that the place shan't disgrace itself, and--'
'I'm with you,' shouted another above all the howls of the mob.
'Gilbert Kendal was as kind-hearted a chap as ever lived, and I'll
see no wrong done to his father.'
Tremendous uproar ensued; then the well-known tones pealed out again,
'I've given my word to save his likeness. Come on, boys. Hurrah for
Kendal!'
The war-cry was echoed by a body of voices, there was a furious melee
and a charge towards the Nabob, who rocked and toppled down, while
stragglers came pressed backwards on all sides.
'Here, Hope, take care of them. Stay with them,' said Mr. Kendal,
putting the whip into the curate's hand, and striding towards the
nucleus of the fray, through the throng who were driven backwards.
'O'More,' he called, 'what's all this? Give over! Are you mad?' and
then catching up, and setting on his legs, a little fallen boy, 'Go
home; get out of all this mischief. What are you doing? Take home
that child,' to a gaping girl with a baby.
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