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He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. As to the picture, I'll keep it myself, though, if you do go I shall need no memorial of you. " "There's but one way of clearing it, your worship," said the Master, archly. She nodded.
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