in that Chinaman's head, just to see
what would happen.

"Do you think you'd better go home now?" said Mr. Littleback.

"Yes, sir," said Freddie. "My farver told me to hurry."

"Oh, he did! Indeed!"

The hunchback followed Freddie to the door, and they looked up together
at the clock in the church-tower.

"Ah!" said Toby. "You're safe. Just six o'clock. Mr. Punch's father
can't come out for about half an hour yet."

Freddie looked back as he crossed the street, and saw the live hunchback
leaning against the wooden hunchback, with one foot crossed over the
other; he could hardly tell which was which, except for the coat and
breeches. He went on up the street with his package of tobacco in one
hand and his package of gingerbread in the other. As he passed the
church, he lingered a moment to stare at the great fat man with
spectacles, who was sitting on the pavement in a chair tilted back
against the church-wall, smoking a long pipe and reading a newspaper;
could this be the "sextant" of the church, whom Mr. Toby had mentioned,
and who had heard the queer noises from the top of the tower when Mr.
Punch and his father were up there having their high jinks? He tried to
get up his courage to ask the fat man about it, but he could not get the
words out. He stared so long that the fat man finally put down his paper
and took the pipe from his mouth and looked over his spectacles and
said:

"If you're considerin' making a bid for the property, young man, I'll
see what the senior Churchwarden has to say about it. How much do you
offer?"

"No, sir," said Freddie, blushing in confusion, and went on up the
street. He understood nothing of what the fat man had said, but he
caught the word "churchwarden," and remembered it.

He did not walk very fast, for he had a good deal to think about; so
many things had never happened to him in one day before. He dwelt
especially, in his mind, on the two old codgers who were friends of Mr.
Toby, and he supposed that his own father never saved up his pennies,
otherwise his old tobacco box would not be empty every now and then.
However, he was glad that his father was a spendthrift, because it would
give him a chance to go to the Old Tobacco Shop sometimes for more
tobacco for the box; and apart from Aunt Amanda and her gingerbread, he
was very anxious to look again at the Chinaman's head in which lay the
magic tobacco which he must not touch. One thing was sure; he would
never go withou