On the morrow, in the dusk of evening, Mr. Weevle modestly appears at Krook's, by no means incommoded with luggage, and establishes himself in his new lodging, where the two eyes in the shutters stare at him in his sleep, as if they were full of wonder. On the following day Mr. Weevle, who is a handy good-for-nothing kind of young fellow, borrows a needle and thread of Miss Flite and a hammer of his landlord and goes to work devising apologies for window-curtains, and knocking up apologies for shelves, and hanging up his two teacups, milkpot, and crockery sundries on a pennyworth of little hooks, like a shipwrecked sailor making the best of it.

On the next evening, Mr. Weevle modestly appears at Krook's, and establishes himself in his new lodging, where the two eyes in the shutters stare at him in his sleep, as if full of wonder. On the following day Mr. Weevle borrows a needle and thread from Miss Flite and a hammer from his landlord and goes to work devising apologies for curtains, and knocking up apologies for shelves, and hanging up his two teacups and milkpot on a pennyworth of little hooks, like a shipwrecked sailor making the best of it.
