He got up brusquely. It’s an instinct. 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. " "Mother be——!" returned Jack. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. “Odd!” she said. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth.
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