re, never, after the morning's experience, to
return, or to hold any communication with their late companions. Others
remained but to refresh themselves, and then went home desponding;
others who had theretofore been regular in their attendance, avoided the
place altogether. The half-dozen prisoners whom the Guards had taken,
were magnified by report into half-a-hundred at least; and their
friends, being faint and sober, so slackened in their energy, and so
drooped beneath these dispiriting influences, that by eight o'clock in
the evening, Dennis, Hugh, and Barnaby, were left alone. Even they were
fast asleep upon the benches, when Gashford's entrance roused them.

'Oh! you ARE here then?' said the Secretary. 'Dear me!'

'Why, where should we be, Muster Gashford!' Dennis rejoined as he rose
into a sitting posture.

'Oh nowhere, nowhere,' he returned with excessive mildness. 'The streets
are filled with blue cockades. I rather thought you might have been
among them. I am glad you are not.'

'You have orders for us, master, then?' said Hugh.

'Oh dear, no. Not I. No orders, my good fellow. What orders should I
have? You are not in my service.'

'Muster Gashford,' remonstrated Dennis, 'we belong to the cause, don't
we?'

'The cause!' repeated the secretary, looking at him in a sort of
abstraction. 'There is no cause. The cause is lost.'

'Lost!'

'Oh yes. You have heard, I suppose? The petition is rejected by a
hundred and ninety-two, to six. It's quite final. We might have spared
ourselves some trouble. That, and my lord's vexation, are the only
circumstances I regret. I am quite satisfied in all other respects.'

As he said this, he took a penknife from his pocket, and putting his
hat upon his knee, began to busy himself in ripping off the blue cockade
which he had worn all day; at the same time humming a psalm tune which
had been very popular in the morning, and dwelling on it with a gentle
regret.

His two adherents looked at each other, and at him, as if they were at a
loss how to pursue the subject. At length Hugh, after some elbowing and
winking between himself and Mr Dennis, ventured to stay his hand, and to
ask him why he meddled with that riband in his hat.

'Because,' said the secretary, looking up with something between a snarl
and a smile; 'because to sit still and wear it, or to fall asleep and
wear it, is a mockery. That's all, friend.'

'What would you have us do, master!' cried Hugh.

'No