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. Come. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. Your life is like a funeral March. If I had known that you were here you should not have been kept waiting for a second. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. " "Where are you going?" asked his mother. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout.
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