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. It's your eagerness that bothers me. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you some precious sport. ‘She would not tell me.
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