But one morning, when the hands of the church clock were wide apart, and all was safe, he passed by Mr. Punch and opened the shop door. Mr. Toby was standing behind the counter, tying up a parcel. He went on tying it up, and said:
"All right, young feller, it's your turn next. This here package is for the Sly Old Codger, and he'll be back for it pretty soon, and if it ain't ready,—whew! won't we get blown up, though? Now then, what'll you have? Pound o' Maiden's Prayer?"
"No, sir," said the Little Boy. "I don't want anything. I just came."
"Oh; you just came. By the way, young man, what is your name today?"
"Freddie!" said the Little Boy.
Mr. Toby dropped his package and leaned across the counter in amazement.
"What's that you say?"
"Freddie!" cried the Little Boy, bursting with pride.
"Well! Bless my soul! If I ever in my life! As sure as the world! Strike me dead if he didn't say it as plain as—! Young man," said Mr. Toby, solemnly, and he walked to the end of the counter, opened the swinging gate, came through, stood in front of Freddie, and shook him by the hand. "Young man, I congratulate you. It's all right now. But you had an almighty close shave, I can tell you that. Allow me to congratulate you, and accept the best wishes of your kind friend, Toby Littleback."