While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts. I don’t! Please enlighten me. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. Ann Veronica became violently excited at the sight. A young man was playing the banjo. Very well. “Here goes,” he said.
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