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. Sheppard wildly. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities. "A bad business this, Van," observed Baptist, with a prolonged shake of the head.
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