‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French. “Yeah, where the hell were you? My friends would have driven you home when I came home if I could have found you. It was the grand nursery of vice. 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. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related.
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