We were alike. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. 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. The aunt laughed. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. Miching Mallecho. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature.
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