"What's the matter?" he cried. 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. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night.
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