In chapter ten of Oliver Twist, the astute Mr Dickens observed that there is a passion for hunting something deeply implanted in every human breast. Well, in Springfield, in a white frame house on Maple Street, the Andersons are living examples of the Dickens philosophy. I don't mean they spend their days tracking wild game, or stalking the savage beast in his native lair, nothing like that. The Andersons specialize in bargains, and there are no better hunters on either side of the Mississippi...