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The militia offered little in the way of relief. This was what he missed. "No," rejoined Thames, "I won't be treated like a common felon, if I can help it. " "Are you Mr. " Thames turned away at the question, which he felt might be construed into a reproach. 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.
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