” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. And see!" he added, as the figures drew back, and the lights disappeared; "it's a false alarm. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II. But we're neglecting the punch all this time. "Stand aside, Tom," commanded Kneebone. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened.
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