“How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. 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 trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. ’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up.
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