The Napoleon of Notting Hill
soldiers enter, for it cannot be denied—I ought, sir, no longer to deny, that it is of soldiers that I come to speak. Let your gentle employment make you merciful towards the troubles of the world. Let your own silvery experience tone down our sanguine sorrows. For there is war in Notting Hill."
The little toy-shop keeper sprang up suddenly, slapping his fat hands like two fans on the counter.
"War?" he cried. "Not really, sir? Is it true? Oh, what a joke! Oh, what a sight for sore eyes!"
Wayne was almost taken aback by this outburst.
"I am delighted," he stammered. "I had no notion—"
He sprang out of the way just in time to avoid Mr. Turnbull, who took a flying leap over the counter and dashed to the front of the shop.
"You look here, sir," he said; "you just look here."
He came back with two of the torn posters in his hand which were flapping outside his shop.
"Look at those, sir," he said, and flung them down on the counter.