So I had to buy out his interest, and it pinched me dreadfully to do it. 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. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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