seven o'clock in the evening
we asked , with an intelligent interest . `` Oh , Parker . And we do all the rest , you know . '' It was seven o'clock in the evening when we joined the caravan , in a stackyard on the outskirts of an Eastern county town . `` That 's ` im -- that 's Lord George Sanger , '' was said of the writer by one of the crowd of small boys assembled at the stackyard gate . A travelling menagerie and circus was advertised in a somewhat `` voyant '' manner on the town walls , and a fancied resemblance to the aristocratic manager thereof accredited us with an honourable connection in the enterprise . `` When do you open ? ''