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. Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed. “Go on,” he said. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. I'm nearly nabbing you. Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips.
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