from his pockets. Freddie looked, and there the clock was, plain
enough. "Well," said the hunchbacked man, "I'll tell you, seeing as you
insist upon it, and won't take no for an answer: but you mustn't never
tell it to no one. Do you promise me that? Cross your heart?"

"Yes, sir," said Freddie.

"Done," said the hunchback. "Mr. Punch's father lives up there behind
that clock. And sometimes, just exactly when the two hands of that clock
come together, one on top of the other, mind you, like you lay one stick
along another, Mr. Punch's father comes out and stands on that there
sill under the clock; he's a little old man with a long white beard; and
he stands there and puts his hand to his mouth and calls down here to
Mr. Punch, and Mr. Punch climbs down off his little perch and goes over
to that church, and climbs up the inside of that tower to the very top
and meets his father! And I've heard tell that they have regular high
jinks up there all by theirselves, and vittles! more vittles and drink
than you ever seen at one time; yes, sir; a regular feast, as sure as
you're born; and they don't only eat vittles; no, sir; if they can only
get hold of a nice plump little boy or two, with plenty o' meat to him,
that's what they like best; and if it happens to be night-time, there's
a lot of queer ones with 'em up there, and all sorts of queer
noises--you ask the sextant over there about it--_he's_ heard 'em; and
if you should just happen to be around when Mr. Punch climbs down off of
this here perch, you'd better look out; for he's just as likely as not
to snatch you up and carry you off with him up there into that
church-tower to his father, and if he does _that_, that's the last of
you; and your ma and your pa could cry their eyes out, and it wouldn't
be no use; you'd be _gone_! And never come back no more. They say
there's many a boy been took up into that tower by Mr. Punch here when
his father comes out and calls him. But he don't _always_ come out when
the hands of the clock come together; nobody ever knows when he's going
to do it, no sirree; Mr. Punch himself never knows when his father's
going to call him. Lord bless us!" cried the little hunchback, looking
up again in alarm at the clock in the church-tower. "Lord bless us,
look at that!"

Freddie stared at the clock. It was twenty-five minutes past five. He
knew how to tell twelve o'clock and ten minutes to ten, but he had never
got as far as twenty-five minutes p