” “Please get off at the next exit. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of. My goodness gracious. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. 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. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself.
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