Heaven forbid. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. "Damnation!" cried Kneebone. 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. You know you don’t mean it. "Quilt Arnold, is that you?" "It is, Sir," sputtered the janizary. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage. Will you leave us for a few minutes?" "You are not going to be harsh?" "I wish to talk about the future. Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred. “I think that you are very dense. "Hush!—come hither, and I'll tell you. Ten days should see you on your feet.
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