‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. ‘Who is to be angry with you now?’ ‘Miss Prudence, that’s who,’ stated Joan bluntly.
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