"There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. 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 you have contrived to break out of your confinement, villain, this is the last place where you ought to show yourself. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest.
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