“If I thought for a moment that there was any chance of a relapse, I should stop here and tell him the truth even now. I’m a female thing at bottom. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. She awoke at 11:12 am, her foster sister snoring in the bed across the room. 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.
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