It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. "Tell me that, and I will believe you. ’ ‘Ah, that was well done of him,’ exclaimed Melusine. About noon, next day, he was able to move; and the gale having abated, he set out homewards with his little charge. "How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. ‘I can manage now. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt.
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