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Indeed, the bulk of the exhibits in Mr. Hucks's museum could legally have been recovered from him under writ of replevy. But there they were, and in the midst of them to-night their collector sat and worked at his ledger by the light of a hurricane lamp. A knock at the door disturbed his calculations. "Come in!" he called, and Dr. Glasson entered. "Eh? Good evenin'," said Mr.
"But who is it?" she asked, as the stranger, swinging his lantern, marched straight up to Mr. Hucks's door. "Good Lord, it's the man himself Glasson! And he's come for his orphans." "He shan't have 'em, then," said Mrs. Mortimer. "A many-sided man." Let Mr. Christopher Hucks introduce himself in his own customary way, that is, by presenting his card of business: Mr.
This mornin' he sent half a dozen men, and they took the show to pieces and carried it off to Hucks's yard, where I hear he means to sell it by public auction." "Who's Mr. Hucks?" "He's the man that farms the Plain here farms it out, I mean," Mrs. Damper explained. "He leases the ground from the Corporation and lets it out for what he can make, and that's a pretty penny.
"Where are you taking her?" "Her? The boat? Oh, back to Hucks's Christopher Hucks, Anchor Wharf, Canal End Basin. 'Anchor, you'll observe, supposed emblem of Hope." He laughed bitterly. "Yes, yes," she nodded. "And quick quick as ever you can! Here, let me help " She caught at one of the two crowbars that served for mooring-posts and tugged at it, using all her strength.
Hucks kept his Counting House replete, and even crowded, with chattels, some of which are reckoned among the necessaries of life, while others such as an accordion, a rain-gauge, and a case of stuffed humming-birds rank rather with its superfluities. Of others again you wondered how on earth they had been taken in Mr. Hucks's drag-net.
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