After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. 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. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. Speak lower.
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