I have seen you with Anna, and I have not known whether to be glad or sorry. The Well Hole. 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. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. ‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. Our men had him fast, held down in a chair. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had.
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