"Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. 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. If the boy was legging it alone…. Wood.
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