It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. 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. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom.
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