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diff --git a/32285-h/32285-h.htm b/32285-h/32285-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6dcbad --- /dev/null +++ b/32285-h/32285-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10160 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Adventures of Bindle, by Herbert Jenkins. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Adventures of Bindle, by Herbert George Jenkins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Adventures of Bindle + +Author: Herbert George Jenkins + +Release Date: May 7, 2010 [EBook #32285] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES OF BINDLE *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<img src="images/coverf.jpg" width="100%" alt="Front Cover" title="Front Cover" /> +</div> + + +<h2>ADVENTURES OF BINDLE</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4>WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT</h4> + + +<p>This Bindle Book deals with the further adventures of Joseph Bindle, +furniture remover. One of the criticisms levelled at "The Night Club" +was that there was not enough of Bindle in it. In the new volume +Bindle is there all the time.</p> + +<p>The story is told of how he helped Mr. Hearty to advertise his new +shop; how Lady Knob-Kerrick's drawing-room was, without her knowledge, +turned into billets for soldiers; how Mrs. Bindle decided to take a +lodger and what came of it; how Bindle became a porter at the Fulham +Square Mansions and let the same flat to two people, and the +complications that ensued; how he discouraged the Rev. Andrew MacFie's +attentions to his niece, Millie Hearty.</p> + +<p>In this volume reappear practically all those in the previous volume, +including the gloomy Ginger, Wilkes, Huggles, Lady Knob-Kerrick, Dick +Little, "Guggers," Mr. and Mrs. Hearty, "Millikins," together with a +number of new characters.</p> + + +<h4><span class="u"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></span></h4> + +<p style='text-align:center'> +THE BINDLES ON THE ROCKS<br /> +BINDLE<br /> +THE NIGHT CLUB<br /> +JOHN DENE OF TORONTO<br /> +MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE<br /> +MRS. BINDLE<br /> +PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER<br /> +THE RETURN OF ALFRED<br /> +THE RAIN GIRL<br /> +THE STIFFSONS<br /> +and other stories</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>ADVENTURES OF BINDLE</h1> + +<h3><i>by</i></h3> + +<h2>HERBERT JENKINS</h2> + +<h4><big>HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED</big><br /> +3 DUKE OF YORK STREET, ST. JAMES'S<br /> +LONDON, S.W.I</h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 25%;"> +<img src="images/pubicon.png" width="100%" alt="A HERBERT JENKINS BOOK" title="A HERBERT JENKINS BOOK" /> +</div> + + +<h5><i>Twelfth printing, completing 167,461 copies</i></h5> + +<h6>MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY PURNELL AND SONS LTD.,<br /> +PAULTON (SOMERSET) AND LONDON</h6> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h3>TO</h3> + +<h2>THE CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><p> +There are Fairies in the city,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There are Fairies on the down,</span><br /> +When Wee Hughie comes from Ireland<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To visit London Town.</span><br /> +<br /> +There is sunshine in the dungeon,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is starlight in the grave,</span><br /> +If June will but remember<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The things that April gave.</span><br /> +</p></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td align="center"><small>CHAPTER</small></td> + <td> </td> + <td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td> + <td>THE COMING OF THE LODGER</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td> + <td>A DOWNING STREET SENSATION</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td> + <td>THE AIR-RAID</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td> + <td>THE DUPLICATION OF MR. HEARTY</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td> + <td>THE GATHERING OF THE BANDS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td> + <td>MR. GUPPERDUCK'S MISHAP</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td> + <td>THE COURTING OF THE REV. ANDREW MACFIE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td> + <td>THE CHAPEL CONVERSAZIONE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td> + <td>THE LETTING OF NUMBER SIX</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></td> + <td>THE DOWNFALL OF MR. JABEZ STIFFSON</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></td> + <td>THE CAMOUFLAGING OF MR. GUPPERDUCK</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></td> + <td>THE TRAGEDY OF GIUSEPPI ANTONIO TOLMENICINO</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></td> + <td>THE RETURN OF CHARLIE DIXON</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></td> + <td>MR. HEARTY YIELDS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></td> + <td>A BILLETING ADVENTURE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></td> + <td>MILLIE'S WEDDING</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p> +<p style='text-align:center'> +<i>All the characters in this book are entirely imaginary and have +no relation whatsoever to any living persons.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h1>ADVENTURES OF BINDLE</h1> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE COMING OF THE LODGER</h3> + + +<p>Bang! Even Bindle was startled by the emphasis with +which Mrs. Bindle placed upon the supper-table a large +pie-dish containing a savoury-smelling stew.</p> + +<p>"Anythink wrong?" he enquired solicitously, gazing at Mrs. +Bindle over the top of the evening paper.</p> + +<p>"Wrong!" she cried. "Is there anything right?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's beer, an' Beatty, an' the boys wot's fightin'," +began Bindle suggestively.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me!" Mrs. Bindle banged a plate of stew in +front of Bindle, to which he applied himself earnestly.</p> + +<p>For some minutes the only sound was that occasioned by +Bindle's enjoyment of his supper, as he proceeded to read the +newspaper propped up in front of him.</p> + +<p>"You're nice company, aren't you?" cried Mrs. Bindle, making +a dive with the spoon at a potato, which she transferred to her +plate. "I might be on a desert island for all the company you +are."</p> + +<p>Bindle gazed at Mrs. Bindle over the small bone from which +he was detaching the last vestiges of nutriment by means of his +teeth. He replaced the bone on the edge of his plate in silence.</p> + +<p>"You think of nothing but your stomach," Mrs. Bindle continued +angrily. "Look at you now!"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, ain't you funny!" remarked Bindle, as he replaced +his glass upon the table. "If I'm chatty, you say, ''Old your +tongue!' If I ain't chatty, you ask why I ain't a-makin' love +to you."</p> + +<p>After a moment's silence he continued meditatively: "I kept +rabbits, silkworms, an' a special kind o' performin' flea, an' I +seemed to get to understand 'em all; but women—well, you may +search me!" and he pushed his plate from him as a sign of +repletion.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle rose from the table. Bindle watched her curiously; +it was never wise to enquire what course was to follow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I answered an advertisement to-day," she announced, as she +banged an apple-pie on the table.</p> + +<p>With difficulty Bindle withdrew his interest from the pie to +Mrs. Bindle's statement.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so," he remarked pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"And about time, I should think, with food going up as it is," +she continued, as she hacked out a large V-shaped piece of +pie-crust which she transferred to a plate, and proceeded to dab +apple beside it.</p> + +<p>Bindle regarded her uncomprehendingly.</p> + +<p>"In <i>The Gospel Sentinel</i>." She vouchsafed the information +grudgingly and, rising, she fetched a paper from the dresser and +threw it down in front of Bindle, indicating a particular part of +the page with a vicious stab of her fore-finger.</p> + +<p>Bindle picked up the paper. The spot indicated was the +column headed "Wanted." He read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Christian Home</span> wanted by a single gentleman, chapel-goer, +temperance, quiet, musical, home-comforts, good-cooking, +moderate terms. References given and required. Apply Lonely, +c/o <i>The Gospel Sentinel</i>."</p></div> + +<p>Bindle looked up from the paper at Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she challenged.</p> + +<p>He turned once more to the paper and re-read the advertisement +with great deliberation, forgetful of his fast-cooling plate.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle judicially, "this is a Christian 'ome +right enough, plenty of soap an' water, with an 'ymn or two +thrown in so as you won't notice the smell. Cookin's good likewise, +an' as for 'ome-comforts, if we ain't got 'em, who 'as? +There's sweepin' an' scrubbin' an' mats everywhere, mustn't +smoke in the parlour unless you 'appen to be the chimney, and +of course there's you, the biggest 'ome-comfort of all. Yes! Mrs. +B.," he concluded, shaking his head with gloomy conviction, +"we got enough 'ome comforts to start a colony, I'm always +trippin' over 'em."</p> + +<p>"Eat your pie," snapped Mrs. Bindle, "perhaps it'll stop your +mouth."</p> + +<p>Bindle applied himself to the apple-pie with obvious relish, +glancing from time to time at <i>The Gospel Sentinel</i>.</p> + +<p>"Well?" demanded Mrs. Bindle once more.</p> + +<p>"I was jest wonderin'," said Bindle.</p> + +<p>"What about?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was jest wonderin'," continued Bindle, "why we want a +lodger, us like two love-birds a-singin' an' a-cooin' all day long."</p> + +<p>"What about the housekeeping?" demanded Mrs. Bindle +aggressively.</p> + +<p>"The 'ousekeepin'?" enquired Bindle innocently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the housekeeping," repeated Mrs. Bindle with rising +wrath, as if Bindle were directly responsible, "the housekeeping, +I said, and food going up like—like——"</p> + +<p>"'Ell," suggested Bindle helpfully.</p> + +<p>"How am I to make both ends meet?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"I suppose they must meet?" he enquired tentatively.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Bindle!" was the response.</p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' to be a fool with that there lodger 'angin' about," +retorted Bindle. "If 'e starts a-playin' about wi' my 'Ome Comfort, +'e'll find 'is jaw closed for alterations. I'm a desperate +feller where my 'eart's concerned. There was poor 'ole 'Orace +only the other day. Jest back from the front 'e was."</p> + +<p>Bindle paused and shook his head mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Horace who?" demanded Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"'Orace Gaze," replied Bindle. "Nice cove too, 'e is.</p> + +<p>"''Ullo! 'Orace,' I calls out, when I see 'im jest a-comin' +from the station with all 'is kit.</p> + +<p>"'Cheerio,' says 'e.</p> + +<p>"'The missis'll be glad to see you,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'She don't know I'm 'ere yet,' 'e says.</p> + +<p>"'Didn't you send 'er a telegram?' I asks.</p> + +<p>"'Telegram!' says 'e, 'not 'arf.'</p> + +<p>"'Why not?'</p> + +<p>"'Lord! ain't you a mug, Joe!' says 'e; 'you don't catch me +a-trustin' women, I got my own way, I 'ave,' says 'e, mysterious +like.</p> + +<p>"'What is it?' I asks 'im.</p> + +<p>"'Well, I goes 'ome,' says 'e, ''er thinkin' me at the front, +rattles my key in the front door, then I nips round to the back, +an' catches the blighter every time!'"</p> + +<p>"I won't listen to your disgusting stories," said Mrs. Bindle +angrily.</p> + +<p>"Disgustin'?" said Bindle incredulously.</p> + +<p>"You've a lewd mind, Bindle."</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" remarked Bindle, "it's somethink to 'ave a mind +at all, it's about the only thing they don't tax as war profits."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to be careful when the lodger comes." There was +a note of grim warning in Mrs. Bindle's voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lodgers ain't to be trusted," said Bindle oracularly. "If you +expects 'em to pinch your money-box, orf they goes with your +missis; an' if you're 'opin' it'll be your missis, blowed if they +don't pouch the canary. No!" he concluded with conviction, +"lodgers ain't to be depended on."</p> + +<p>"That's right, go on; but you're not hurting me," snapped +Mrs. Bindle, rising to clear away. "You always oppose me, +perhaps you'll tell me how I'm to feed you on your wages." She +stood, her hands on her hips, looking down upon Bindle with +challenge in her eye.</p> + +<p>"My wages! why, I'm gettin'——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind what you're getting," interrupted Mrs. Bindle. +"You eat all you get and more, and you know it. Look at the +price of food, and me waiting in queues half the day to get it for +you. You're not worth it," she concluded with conviction.</p> + +<p>"I ain't, Mrs. B.," replied Bindle good-humouredly, "I ain't +worth 'alf the love wot women 'ave 'ad for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle sniffed. "You always was fond of your food," +she continued, as if reluctant to let slip a topic so incontrovertible.</p> + +<p>"I was, Mrs. B.," agreed Bindle; "an' wot is more I probably +always shall be as long as you go on cookin' it. Wot I shall do +when you go orf with the lodger, I don't know," and Bindle +wagged his head from side to side in utter despondency.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle made an unprovoked attack upon the kitchen fire.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bindle after a pause, "if it's rations or a lodger, +I suppose it's got to be a lodger," and he drew a deep sigh of +resignation. He turned once more to <i>The Gospel Sentinel</i>. +"Musical, too, ain't 'e," he continued. "I wonder wot 'e plays, +the jews' 'arp or a drum? Seems a rare sport 'e does, chapel-goer, +temperance, quiet, musical, fond of 'ome-comforts, good +cookin'; an' don't want to pay much; regular blood I should +call 'im."</p> + +<p>"He's coming to-night to see the place," Mrs. Bindle announced, +"and don't you go and make me feel ashamed. You'd better +keep out of the room."</p> + +<p>"'Ow could you!" cried Bindle reproachfully, as he proceeded +to light his pipe. "Me——"</p> + +<p>"Don't do that!" snapped Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle regarded her over the flaming match with eyebrows +raised interrogatingly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he doesn't smoke," she explained.</p> + +<p>"But I ain't goin' to give up tobacco," said Bindle with +decision. "'Oly Angels! me with a wife an a lodger an' no pipe!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>He looked about him as if in search of sympathy. Then +turning to Mrs. Bindle, he demanded:</p> + +<p>"You mean to say I got to give up smokin' for a lodger!" +Indignation had smoothed out the wrinkles round his eyes and +stilled the twitchings at the corners of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter after he's here," Mrs. Bindle responded +sagely.</p> + +<p>Slowly the set-expression vanished from Bindle's face; the +wrinkles and twitches returned, and he breathed a sigh of elaborate +relief.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. B.," he said admiringly, "you 'aven't lived for nineteen +years with your awful wedded 'usband, lovin', 'onourin' an' +obeyin' 'im—I don't think—without learnin' a thing or two." +He winked knowingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he continued, apparently addressing a fly upon the +ceiling, "we'll catch our lodger first an' smoke 'im afterwards, +all of which is good business. Funny 'ow religion never seems +to make you too simple to——"</p> + +<p>Bindle was interrupted by a knocking at the outer-door. +Mrs. Bindle performed a series of movements with amazing +celerity. She removed and folded her kitchen-apron, placing it +swiftly in the dresser-drawer, gave a hasty glance in the looking-glass +over the mantelpiece to assure herself that all was well with +her personal appearance and, finally, slipped into the parlour +to light the gas. She was out again in a second and, as she +passed into the passage leading to the outer-door, she threw back +at Bindle the one word "Remember," pregnant with as much +meaning as that uttered two and a half centuries before in +Whitehall.</p> + +<p>"Nippy on 'er feet is Mrs. B.," muttered Bindle admiringly, +as he listened intently to the murmur of voices and the sound +of footsteps in the passage. Presently the parlour-door closed +and then—silence.</p> + +<p>Bindle fidgeted about the kitchen. He was curious as to what +was taking place in the parlour and, above all, what manner of +man the prospective lodger would turn out to be. He picked up +the evening paper, endeavouring to read what the Austrian Prime +Minister thought of the prospects of peace, what Berlin thought +of the Austrian Prime Minister, what the Kaiser thought of the +Almighty, and what the Almighty was permitted to think of the +Kaiser. But international politics and the War had lost their +interest. Bindle was conscious that he was on the eve of a crisis +in his home life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Ow the injiarubber ostridge can a cove read when 'e ain't +smokin'?" he muttered discontentedly as he paused to listen. He +had detected a movement in the parlour.</p> + +<p>Yes; the door had been opened. There was again the murmur +of voices, steps along the passage and, finally, the sound of the +outer-door closing. A moment later Mrs. Bindle entered.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked up expectantly; but remembering that curiosity +was the last thing calculated to open Mrs. Bindle's set lips, he +became engrossed in his paper.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle seated herself opposite to him and, smoothing +her skirt, "folded 'er 'ands on 'er supper," as Bindle had once +expressed it.</p> + +<p>"He's coming Monday," she proclaimed with the air of one +announcing an event of grave national importance.</p> + +<p>"Does 'e smoke?" enquired Bindle anxiously.</p> + +<p>"He does not," replied Mrs. Bindle with undisguised satisfaction; +"but," she added, as if claiming for some hero the virtue +of self-abnegation, "he doesn't object to it—in moderation," she +added significantly.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's somethink," admitted Bindle as he proceeded +to light his long-neglected pipe. "There was pore 'ole Alf Gorley +wot beer made sick; but 'e used to like to see other coves with a +skinful."</p> + +<p>"Don't be disgusting, Bindle," snapped Mrs. Bindle, piqued +that his apparent lack of interest in the lodger gave her no +opportunity of imparting the information she was bursting to +divulge.</p> + +<p>"Wot's disgustin'?" demanded Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Him, watching men making beasts of themselves," retorted +Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Them makin' beasts o' themselves!" Bindle exclaimed. "If +you'd ever seen Alf after 'alf a pint o' beer, you wouldn't 'ave +said it was them wot was makin' beasts o'——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hearty will like him," interrupted Mrs. Bindle, unable +longer to keep off the subject of the lodger. Mr. Hearty had +married Mrs. Bindle's sister, and had become a prosperous greengrocer.</p> + +<p>"'Earty like Alf! 'Old me, 'Orace!" cried Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I meant Mr. Gupperduck," said Mrs. Bindle with dignity.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wot-a-duck!" Bindle cried, his interest too evident for +concealment.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," repeated Mrs. Bindle with unction. +"That is his name."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle whistled, a long low sound of joy and wonder. "Well, +I'm damned!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Don't you swear before me, Joseph Bindle," cried Mrs. Bindle +angrily; "for I won't stand it."</p> + +<p>"Gupperduck!" repeated Bindle with obvious enjoyment. +"Sounds like a patent mackintosh."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you may laugh," said Mrs. Bindle, drawing her lips, +"you may laugh; but he'll be company for me. He plays too." +She could no longer restrain her desire to tell all she knew about +Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"Is it the jew's 'arp, or the drum wot 'e plays?" enquired +Bindle presently.</p> + +<p>"It's neither," replied Mrs. Bindle, "it's the accordion."</p> + +<p>Bindle groaned. Mentally he visualised Mr. Hearty's hymn-singing +Sunday evenings, plus Mr. Gupperduck and his accordion.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" he remarked philosophically, "I suppose we're +none of us perfect."</p> + +<p>"He's a very good man, an' he's goin' to join our chapel," +announced Mrs. Bindle with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Bindle groaned again. "'Earty, an' Mrs. B., an' Ole Buttercup," he +muttered. "Joe Bindle, you'll be on the saved-bench before you know +where you are"; and rising he went out, much to the disappointment of +Mrs. Bindle, who was prepared to talk "lodger" until bed-time.</p> + +<p>To Bindle the lodger was something between a convention and +an institution. He was a being around whom a vast tradition had +accumulated. In conjunction with the mother-in-law he was, "on +the halls," the source from which all humour flowed. His red +nose, umbrella and bloater were ageless.</p> + +<p>He was a sower of discord in other men's houses, waxing fat +on the produce of a stranger's labour. He would as cheerfully go +off with his landlord's wife for ever, as with the unfortunate man's +shirt or trousers for a few hours, thus losing him a day's work.</p> + +<p>Nemesis seemed powerless to dog the footsteps of the lodger, +retribution was incapable of tracking him down. He was voracious +of appetite, prolific of explanation, eternally on the brink +of affluence, for ever in the slough of debt.</p> + +<p>He was a prince of parasites, a master of optimism, a model +of obtuseness, he could achieve more, and at less cost to himself, +than a Gypsy. He was as ancient as the hills, as genial as the +sunshine, as cheerful as an expectant relative at the death-bedside +of wealth. He was unthinkable, unforgettable, unejectable, living +on all men for all time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nations rose and declined, kings came and went, emperors +soared and fell; but the lodger stayed on.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked forward to the coming of Mr. Gupperduck with +keen interest. Since the evening of his call, Mrs. Bindle had +become uncommunicative.</p> + +<p>"Wot's 'e do?" Bindle had enquired.</p> + +<p>"He's engaged upon the Lord's work," she had replied, and +proved unamenable to all further interrogation.</p> + +<p>On the Monday Bindle was home from work early, only to be +informed that Mr. Gupperduck would not arrive until eight +o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Now you just be careful what you say, Bindle," Mrs. Bindle +had admonished him as she busied herself with innumerable +saucepans upon the stove.</p> + +<p>"Don't you be nervous, Mrs. B.," he reassured her, sniffing +the savoury air with keen anticipation, "there ain't nothink +wrong with my conversation once I gets goin'. Wot about drink?" +he demanded as he unhooked from the dresser the blue and white +jug with the crimson butterfly just beneath the spout.</p> + +<p>"He's temperance," replied Mrs. Bindle with unction.</p> + +<p>"Well, I 'ope 'e looks it," was Bindle's comment as he went out.</p> + +<p>When time permitted, Bindle's method of fetching the supper-beer +was what he described as "'alf inside and 'alf in the jug," +which meant that he spent half an hour in pleasant converse with +congenial spirits at The Yellow Ostrich.</p> + +<p>When he returned to Fenton Street, Mr. Gupperduck had +arrived. Depositing the jug upon the table with deliberation, +Bindle turned to welcome the guest.</p> + +<p>"Pleased to see you, Mr. Gutter——" He paused, the name +had momentarily escaped him.</p> + +<p>"Gupperduck, Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," volunteered the +lodger.</p> + +<p>"It ain't easy, is it?" said Bindle cheerfully. "Must 'ave caused +you a rare lot o' trouble, a name like that."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck eyed him disapprovingly. He was a small, +thin man, with a humourless cast of face, large round spectacles, +three distinct wisps of overworked hair that failed to conceal his +baldness, a short brown beard that seemed to stand out straight +from his chin, and a red nose. His upper lip was bare, save for +a three days' growth of bristles.</p> + +<p>"Looks like a owl wot's been on the drink," was Bindle's +mental comment. "You can read 'is 'ole 'istory in the end of +'is nose."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Been a pleasant day," remarked Bindle conversationally, +quite forgetful that it had rained continuously since early +morning.</p> + +<p>"Pleasant!" interrogated Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>Bindle suddenly remembered. "For the ducks, I mean," he +said; then with inspiration added, "not for Gupperducks."</p> + +<p>"Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle. "You forget yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't mind me, Mr. G.," said Bindle; "there ain't no +real 'arm in me."</p> + +<p>Bindle proceeded to put "an 'ead on the beer." This he did +by pouring it into the glass from a distance of fully a yard and +with astonishing accuracy. Catching Mr. Gupperduck's eye, +he winked.</p> + +<p>"Can't get an 'ead like that on lemonade," he remarked +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere was constrained. Mr. Gupperduck was tired +and hungry, Bindle was hungry without being tired, and Mrs. +Bindle was grimly prepared for the worst.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'ere's long legs to the baby!" cried Bindle, raising his +glass and drinking thirstily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle cast a swift glance at Mr. Gupperduck, who gazed +at Bindle wonderingly over the top of the spoon he was raising +to his mouth.</p> + +<p>The meal continued in silence. Bindle was hypnotised by +Mr. Gupperduck's ears. They stood out from each side of his +head like sign-boards, as if determined that nothing should +escape them.</p> + +<p>After a time Mr. Gupperduck began to show signs that the +first ardour of his appetite had been appeased.</p> + +<p>"If it ain't a rude question, mister," began Bindle, "might I +ask wot's your job?"</p> + +<p>"I'm in the service of the Lord," replied Mr. Gupperduck in +a harsh tone.</p> + +<p>"Trade union wages?" queried Bindle with assumed innocence.</p> + +<p>"Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle, "behave yourself."</p> + +<p>"I am a sower of the seed," said Mr. Gupperduck pompously +and with evident self-satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Well, personally myself," said Bindle, "I ain't much belief +in them allotments. You spend all your time in diggin', gettin' +yourself in an 'ell of a mess, an' then somebody comes along +an' pinches your bloomin' vegetables."</p> + +<p>"I refer to the spiritual seed," said Mr. Gupperduck. "I preach +the word of God, the peace that passeth all understanding."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle groaned inwardly, and silence fell once more over the +board.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck at length, "you have given +me a most excellent supper."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle's lips became slightly visible.</p> + +<p>"The Lord shall feed his flock," remarked Mr. Gupperduck +apropos of nothing in particular, "and——"</p> + +<p>"'E keeps a few little pickin's for 'Is Gupperducks," flashed +Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Bindle!" Mrs. Bindle glanced across at Mr. Gupperduck. +The two then entered into a conversation upon the ways of the +Lord, about which they both seemed to possess vast stores of +the most intimate information. From their conversation Bindle +gathered that Mr. Gupperduck was a lecturer in the parks, +mission-halls and the like, being connected with the Society for +the Suppression of Atheism.</p> + +<p>"And what are the tenets of your spiritual faith, Mr. Bindle?" +Mr. Gupperduck suddenly turned and addressed himself to +Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Wot's my wot?" enquired Bindle with corrugated forehead.</p> + +<p>"He's a blasphemer, Mr. Gupperduck, I'm sorry to say," +volunteered Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck regarded Bindle as if Mrs. Bindle had said +he was the "Missing Link."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bindle," he said earnestly, "have you ever thought of +the other world?"</p> + +<p>"Thought of the other world!" Bindle exclaimed. "If you +lived with Mrs. B., you wouldn't 'ave much time for thinkin' of +anythink else. She's as dotty about 'eaven as an 'en over a +'shop-egg,' an' as for 'Earty, that's my brother-in-law, well, +'Earty gets my goat when 'e starts about 'eaven an' angels."</p> + +<p>"I fear you speak lightly of serious things, Mr. Bindle," said +Mr. Gupperduck harshly. "Think of when the trumpet shall +sound incorruptible and——!"</p> + +<p>"Think o' when the all-clear bugle sounds in Fulham," responded +Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs. Bindle in horror.</p> + +<p>"I'm a special, you know," explained Bindle. "I got to be on +the listen for that bugle after the air-raids. My! don't they jest +nip back into their little beds again, feelin' 'ow brave they've +all been."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck seemed to come to the conclusion that Bindle +was hopeless. For the next half-hour he devoted himself to con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>versing +with Mrs. Bindle about "the message" he was engaged in delivering.</p> + +<p>"You plays, don't you?" enquired Bindle, as Mr. Gupperduck +rose.</p> + +<p>"I am very fond of my accordion," replied Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you couldn't give us a tune?" ventured Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck. "I have +a lot to do to-morrow." Then, as if suddenly remembering his +pose, he added, "There is the Lord's work to be done on the +morrow, and His servant hath need of rest."</p> + +<p>Bindle stared. Mrs. Bindle regarded her lodger with admiration +tinctured with awe. When Mr. Gupperduck could not call to mind an +appropriate passage from the Scriptures, he invented one.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," remarked Bindle, as Mr. Gupperduck moved +towards the door. "I wanted you to play a thing I picked up +at The Granville the other night. It was a rare good song, 'If +You Squeeze Me Tighter, Jimmie, I Shall Scream.' I can whistle +it if——" but Mr. Gupperduck was gone.</p> + +<p>Then the storm burst.</p> + +<p>"You're a disgrace to any respectable 'ome, Joseph Bindle, +that you are," Mrs. Bindle broke out as soon as Mr. Gupperduck's +bedroom door was heard to close.</p> + +<p>"Me?" enquired Bindle in obvious surprise.</p> + +<p>"What must he think of us?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. "You +with your lewd and blasphemous talk."</p> + +<p>"Wot 'ave I done now?" enquired Bindle in an injured tone.</p> + +<p>"Talkin' about babies' legs, and—and—oh! you make me +ashamed, you do." Mrs. Bindle proceeded to bang away the +supper things.</p> + +<p>"Steady on," admonished Bindle, "or you'll 'ave the Duck +out o' bed."</p> + +<p>"What must 'e think of me with such an 'usband?" Mrs. +Bindle's aitches were dropping from her under the stress of her +pent-up feelings.</p> + +<p>"Well! speakin' for myself," said Bindle, relighting his pipe, +which had gone out, "he most likely thinks you're an uncommon +lucky woman. You see, Lizzie," Bindle continued evenly, +"you're fickle, that's wot's the matter with you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle paused in the act of pouring water over the piled-up +dishes in the sink.</p> + +<p>"As soon as you sees another cove wot takes your fancy, you +sort o' loses your taste for your own 'usband."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle seated himself at the table and spread out the evening +paper.</p> + +<p>"First it's 'Earty, then it's Gupperduck. Now I ask you, +Mrs. B., wot would you think if I was to say we must 'ave a +woman lodger? Now I ask you!"</p> + +<p>"That's quite different," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily. "Mr. +Gupperduck is——"</p> + +<p>"A sort o' prayer-'og in trousers, judgin' from 'is talk," interrupted +Bindle. "Me an' 'im ain't goin' to fall out, though you +did give 'im a extra dose o' gravy; at the same time we ain't +goin' to fall in love with each other. If 'e pays 'is rent an' +behaves quiet like, then I 'aven't nothink to say, for wot's an +'ome without a lodger; but it's got to be 'ands orf my missis, +see!"</p> + +<p>"Bindle, you're a dirty-minded beast," retorted Mrs. Bindle, +snapping her jaws viciously.</p> + +<p>"That may, or may not be," replied Bindle as he walked +towards the door on his way to bed; "but if you an' 'im start +givin' each other the glad-eye, then I'm 'urt in my private feelin's, +an' when I'm 'urt in my private feelin's, I'm 'ot stuff," +and he winked gravely at the text on the kitchen wall containing +some home truths for the transgressor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>A DOWNING STREET SENSATION</h3> + + +<p>"Me ride eight miles on an 'orse!" exclaimed Bindle, +looking up at the foreman in surprise. "An' who's +a-comin' to 'old me on?"</p> + +<p>Bindle stood in the yard of Messrs. Empsom & Daley, cartage +contractors, regarding a pair of burly cart-horses, ready-harnessed, +with the traces thrown over their backs.</p> + +<p>The foreman explained in the idiom adopted by foreman that +"orders is orders."</p> + +<p>"You can ride on top, run beside, or 'ang on be'ind; but you +got to be at Merton at twelve o'clock," he said. "We jest 'ad +a telephone message that a van's stranded this side o' Merton, +'orses broken down, an' you an' Tippitt 'ave got to take these +'ere and deliver the goods. Then take the van where you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +told, an' bring back them ruddy 'orses 'ere, an' don't you forget +it."</p> + +<p>Bindle scratched his head through the blue and white cricket +cap he habitually wore. Horses had suddenly assumed for him +a new significance. With elaborate intentness he examined the +particular animal that had been assigned to him.</p> + +<p>"Wot part d'you sit on, ole son?" he enquired of Tippitt, a +pale, weedy youth, with a thin dark moustache that curled into +the corners of his mouth. Tippitt's main characteristic was that +he always had a cigarette either stuck to his lip or behind his +ear. Sometimes both.</p> + +<p>"On 'is tail," replied Tippitt laconically, his cigarette wagging +up and down as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Sit on 'is wot?" cried Bindle, walking round to the stern of +his animal and examining the tail with great attention. "Sit on +'is wot?"</p> + +<p>"On 'is tail," repeated Tippitt without manifesting any interest +in the conversation. "Right back on 'is 'aunches," he added by +way of explanation; "more comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Bindle, relieved, "I see. Pity you can't say wot +you mean, Tippy, ain't it? Personally, meself, I'd sooner sit +well up, so as I could put me arms round 'is neck. Hi! Spotty!" +he called to an unprepossessing stable-hand. "Bring a ladder."</p> + +<p>"A wot?" enquired Spotty dully.</p> + +<p>"A ladder," explained Bindle. "I got to mount this 'ere +Derby winner."</p> + +<p>Spotty strolled leisurely across the yard towards Bindle, and +for a moment stood regarding the horse in a detached sort of +way.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a leg up, mate," he said accommodatingly.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at the horse suspiciously and, seeing there were +no indications of vice, at the same time realising that there was +nothing else to be done, he acquiesced.</p> + +<p>"Steady on, ole sport," he counselled Spotty. "Don't you +chuck me clean over the other side."</p> + +<p>With a dexterous heave, Spotty landed him well upon the +animal's back. Bindle calmly proceeded to throw one leg over, +sitting astride.</p> + +<p>"Not that way," said Tippitt, "both legs on the near side."</p> + +<p>"You can ride your nag wot way you like, Tippy," said Bindle; +"but as for me, I likes to 'ave a leg each side. 'Ow the 'ell am +I goin' to 'old on if I sit like a bloomin' lady. My Gawd!" he +exclaimed, passing his hand along the backbone of the animal,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +"if I don't 'ave a cushion I shall wear through in two ticks. +'Ere, Spotty, give us a cloth o' some sort, then you can back +me as a two-to-one chance."</p> + +<p>Tippitt, more accustomed than Bindle to such adventures, +vaulted lightly upon his animal, and led the way out of the +yard. For some distance they proceeded at an ambling walk, +which Bindle found in no way inconvenient. Just as they had +entered the Fulham Road, where it branches off from the Brompton +Road, an urchin gave Bindle's horse a flick on the flank with +a stick, sending it into a ponderous trot, amidst the jangle and +clatter of harness. Bindle clutched wildly at the collar.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, stop 'im, somebody! 'Old 'im!" he yelled. "I touched +the wrong button. Whoa, steady, whoa, ole iron!" he shouted. +Then turning his head to one side he called out: "Tippy, Tippy, +where the 'ell is the brake? For Gawd's sake stop 'im before +'e shakes me into a jelly!"</p> + +<p>Tippitt's animal jangled up beside that on which Bindle was +mounted, and both once more fell back into the ponderous lope +at which they had started. With great caution Bindle raised +himself into an upright position.</p> + +<p>"I wonder wot made 'im do a thing like that," he said +reproachfully. "Bruised me all over 'e 'as. I shan't be able +to sit down for a month. 'Ere, stop 'im, Tippy. I'm gettin' +orf."</p> + +<p>Tippitt stretched out his hand and brought both horses to a +standstill. Bindle slipped ungracefully over his animal's tail.</p> + +<p>"You can 'ave 'im, Tippy, ole sport, I'm goin' to walk," he +announced. "When I get tired o' walking, I'll get on a bus. +I'll meet you at Wimbledon Common;" and Tippitt, his cigarette +hanging loosely from a still looser lower lip, reached over, caught +the animal's bridle and, without comment, continued on his +way westward.</p> + +<p>"Well, live 'an learn," mumbled Bindle to himself. "I don't +care wot a jockey gets; but 'e earns it, every penny. Fancy an +'orse bein' as 'ard as that. Catch you up presently, Tippy," +he cried. "Mind you don't fall orf," and Bindle turned into +The Drag and Hounds "for somethink to take the bruises out," +as he expressed it to himself.</p> + +<p>"Catch me a-ridin' of an 'orse again without an air-cushion," +he muttered as he came out of the public-bar wiping his mouth. +He hailed a west-bound bus, and, climbing on the top and +lighting his pipe, proceeded to enjoy the morning sunshine.</p> + +<p>When Tippitt reached the extreme end of Wimbledon Common,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +Bindle rose from the grass by the roadside, where he had been +leisurely smoking and enjoying the warmth.</p> + +<p>"'Ad quite a pleasant little snooze, Tippy," he yawned, as +he stretched his arms behind his head. "Wonder who first +thought o' ridin' on an 'orse's back," he yawned. "As for me, +I'd jest as soon ride on an 'and-saw."</p> + +<p>They jogged along in the direction of Merton, Bindle walking +beside the horses, Tippitt silent and apathetic, his cigarette still +attached to his lower lip.</p> + +<p>"You ain't wot I should call a chatty cove, Tippy," remarked +Bindle conversationally; "but then," he added, "that 'as its +points. If you don't open your mouth, no woman can't say +you ever asked 'er to marry you, can she?"</p> + +<p>"Married, mate!" Tippitt vouchsafed the information without +expression or interest.</p> + +<p>Bindle stood still and looked at him.</p> + +<p>Tippitt unconcernedly continued on his way.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm damned!" remarked Bindle, as he continued after +the horses. "Well, I'm damned! They'd get you if you was +deaf an' dumb an' blind. Pore ole Tippy! no wonder 'e looks +like that."</p> + +<p>Just outside Merton they came upon a stranded pantechnicon. +Drawn up in front of it was a motor-car containing two ladies.</p> + +<p>"This the little lot?" enquired Bindle as they pulled up beside +the vehicle, which bore the name of John Smith & Company, +Merton.</p> + +<p>"Are you from Empson & Daleys?" enquired the elder of the +two ladies, a sallow-faced, angular woman with pince-nez.</p> + +<p>"That's us, mum," responded Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I suppose those are the horses," remarked the same lady, +indicating the animals with an inclination of her head.</p> + +<p>"You ain't got much to learn in the way o' guessing, mum," +was Bindle's cheery response.</p> + +<p>The lady eyed him disapprovingly. Her companion at the +wheel smiled. She was younger. Bindle winked at her; but she +froze instantly.</p> + +<p>"The horses that were in this van were taken ill," said the +lady.</p> + +<p>"Wot, both together, mum!" exclaimed Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the lady, looking at him sharply.</p> + +<p>"Must 'ave been twins or conchies,"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> was Bindle's explanation +of the phenomenon. "If one o' Ginger's twins 'as the measles, +sure as eggs the other'll get 'em the next day. That's wot makes +Ginger so ratty."</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Conscientious objectors to military service.</p></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> +<p>Bindle walked up to the van and examined it, as if to assure +himself that it was in no way defective.</p> + +<p>"An' where are we to take it, mum?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"To Mr. Llewellyn John, Number 110, Downing Street," was +the reply.</p> + +<p>Bindle whistled. "'E ain't movin', is 'e, mum?"</p> + +<p>"The van contains a presentation of carved-oak dining-room +furniture," she added.</p> + +<p>"An' very nice too," was Bindle's comment.</p> + +<p>"Outside Downing Street," she continued, "you will be met +by a lady who will give you the key that opens the doors of +the van."</p> + +<p>"'Adn't we better take the key now, mum?" Bindle enquired.</p> + +<p>"You'll do as you're told, please," was the uncompromising +rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"Right-o! mum," remarked Bindle cheerily. "Now then, +Tippy, let's get these 'ere 'orses in. Which end d'you begin on?"</p> + +<p>Tippitt and Bindle silently busied themselves in harnessing +the horses to the pantechnicon.</p> + +<p>"Now you won't make any mistake," said the lady when +everything was completed. "Number 110, Downing Street, Mr. +Llewellyn John."</p> + +<p>"There ain't goin' to be no mistakes, mum, you may put +your 'and on your 'eart," Bindle assured her.</p> + +<p>"Cawfee money, mum?" enquired Tippitt. "It's 'ot." Tippitt +never wasted words.</p> + +<p>"Tippy, Tippy! I'm surprised at you!" Bindle turned upon +his colleague reproachfully. "Only twice 'ave you spoke to-day, +an' the second time's to beg. I'm sorry, mum," he said, turning +to the lady. "It ain't 'is fault. It's jest 'abit."</p> + +<p>The lady hesitated for a moment, then taking her purse from +her bag, handed Bindle a two-shilling piece.</p> + +<p>Tippitt eyed it greedily.</p> + +<p>With a final admonition not to forget, the lady drove off.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at the coin, spat on it, and put it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Funny thing 'ow a woman'll give a couple o' bob, where a +man'll make it 'alf a dollar," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Wot about me?" enquired Tippitt.</p> + +<p>"Wot about you, Tippy?" repeated Bindle. "Well, least said +soonest mended. You can't 'elp it."</p> + +<p>"But I asked 'er," persisted Tippitt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! Tippy," remarked Bindle, "it ain't 'im wot asks; but +'im wot gets. 'Owever, you shall 'ave a stone-ginger at the +next stoppin' place. Your ole pal ain't goin' back on you, +Tippy."</p> + +<p>Without a word, Tippitt climbed up into the driver's seat, +whilst Bindle clambered on to the tail-board, where he proceeded +to fill his pipe with the air of a man for whom time has no +meaning.</p> + +<p>"Good job they ain't all like me," he muttered. "I likes a +day in the country, now <i>and</i> then; but always! Not me." He +struck a match, lighted his pipe and, with a sigh of contentment, +composed himself to bucolic meditation.</p> + +<p>One of the advantages of the moving-profession in Bindle's +eyes was that it gave him hours of leisured ease, whilst the goods +were in transit. "You can slack it like a Cuthbert," he would +say. "All you 'as to do is to sit on the tail of a van an' watch +the world go by—<i>some</i> life that."</p> + +<p>Bindle was awakened from his contemplation of the hedges +and the white road that ribboned out before his eyes by a man +coming out of a gate. At the sight of the pantechnicon he grinned +and, with a jerk of his thumb, indicated the van as if it were the +greatest joke in the world.</p> + +<p>Bindle grinned back, although not quite understanding the +cause of the man's amusement.</p> + +<p>"'Ot little lot that, mate," remarked the man, stepping off +the kerb and walking beside the tailboard.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at him, puzzled at the remark.</p> + +<p>"Wot exactly might you be meanin', ole son?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"Oh! come orf of it," said the man. "I won't tell your missis. +Like a razzle myself sometimes," and he laughed, obviously +amused at this joke.</p> + +<p>Bindle slipped off the tail-board and joined the man, who +had returned to the pavement.</p> + +<p>"You evidently seen a joke wot's caught me on the blind +side," he remarked casually.</p> + +<p>"A joke," remarked the man; "a whole van-load of jokes, +if you was to ask me."</p> + +<p>"Well, p'raps you're right," remarked Bindle philosophically, +"but if there's as many as all that, I should 'ave thought there'd +'ave been enough for two; but as I say, p'raps you're right. +These ain't the times for givin' anythink away, although," he +added meditatively, "I 'adn't 'eard of their 'avin' rationed jokes +as well as meat and sugar. We shall be 'avin' joke-queues soon,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +he added. "You seem to be a sort of joke-'og, you do." Bindle +turned and regarded his companion with interest.</p> + +<p>"You mean to say you don't know wot's inside that there +van?" enquired the man incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Carved-oak dinin'-room furniture, I been told," replied +Bindle indifferently.</p> + +<p>The man laughed loudly. Then turned to Bindle. "You +mean to say you don't know that van's full o' gals?" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Full o' wot?" exclaimed Bindle, coming to a dead stop. His +astonishment was too obvious to leave doubt in the man's mind +as to its genuineness.</p> + +<p>"Gals an' women," he replied. "Saw 'em gettin' in down the +road, out of motors. Dressed in white they was, with coloured +sashes over their shoulders. Suffragettes, I should say. They +didn't see me though," he added.</p> + +<p>Bindle gave vent to a low, prolonged whistle as he resumed +his walk.</p> + +<p>"'Old me, 'Orace!" he cried happily. "Wot 'ud Mrs. B. say +if she knew." Suddenly he paused again, and slapped his knee.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm damned!" he cried. "A raid, of course."</p> + +<p>The man looked anxiously up at the blue of the sky.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," said Bindle reassuringly. "My mistake; it was +a bird."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the man turned off from the main road.</p> + +<p>"Hi! Tippy," Bindle hailed, "don't you forget that stone-ginger +at the next dairy."</p> + +<p>A muttered reply came from Tippitt. Five minutes later he +drew up outside a public-house on the outskirts of Wimbledon. +Bindle took the opportunity of climbing up on the top of the +van, where he gained the information he required. Every inch +of the roof was perforated!</p> + +<p>"Air-'oles," he muttered with keen satisfaction; "air-'oles, as +I'm a miserable sinner," and he clambered down and entered +the public-bar, where he convinced Tippitt that his mate could +be trusted with money.</p> + +<p>When Bindle had drained to the last drop his second pewter, +his mind was made up.</p> + +<p>"Number 110, Downing Street," he muttered. "White +dresses an' coloured sashes. That's it. Well, Joe Bindle, you +can't save the bloomin' British Empire from destruction; but you +can save the Prime Minister from 'avin' 'is afternoon nap spoilt, +leastwise you can try.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm a-goin' for a little stroll, Tippy," he remarked, as he +walked towards the door. "Back in ten minutes. If you gets +lonely, order another pint an' put it down to me."</p> + +<p>"Right-o! mate," replied Tippitt.</p> + +<p>Bindle walked along Wimbledon High Street and turned into +an oil-shop.</p> + +<p>"D'you keep lamp black?" he enquired of the young woman +behind the counter.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied. "How much do you want, we sell it in +packets?"</p> + +<p>"Let's 'ave a look at a packet," said Bindle.</p> + +<p>When he had examined it, he ordered two more.</p> + +<p>"Startin' a minstrel troupe," he confided to the young woman.</p> + +<p>"But you want burnt cork," she said practically; "lamp black's +greasy. You'll never get it off."</p> + +<p>"That's jest why I want it," remarked Bindle with a grin.</p> + +<p>The young woman looked at him curiously and, when he had +purchased a pea-puffer as well, she decided that he was a harmless +lunatic; but took the precaution of testing the half-crown he +tendered by ringing it on the counter.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't be surprised if we was to 'ave an 'eavy shower +of rain in a few minutes," remarked Bindle loudly a few minutes +later, as he rejoined Tippitt, who was engaged in watering the +horses.</p> + +<p>Tippitt looked at Bindle, his cigarette wagging. Then turning +his eyes up to the cloudless sky in surprise, he finally reached +the same conclusion as the young woman at the oil-shop.</p> + +<p>"Now up you get, Tippy," admonished Bindle, "an' there's +another drink for you at The Green Lion." Bindle knew his +London.</p> + +<p>As the pantechnicon rumbled heavily along by the side of +Wimbledon Common, Bindle whistled softly to himself the refrain +of "The End of a Happy Day."</p> + +<p>Whilst Tippitt was enjoying his fourth pint that morning at +The Green Lion, Bindle borrowed a large watering-can, which was +handed up to him on the roof of the pantechnicon by a surprised +barman. Bindle emptied the contents of one of the packets of +lamp-black into the can, and started to stir it vigorously with a +piece of twig he had picked up from the side of the Common. +When the water had reluctantly absorbed the lamp-black to +Bindle's entire satisfaction, he called out loudly:</p> + +<p>"I knew we was goin' to 'ave a shower," and he proceeded +to water the top of the pantechnicon. "Now I must put this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +'ere tarpaulin over, or else the water'll get through them 'oles," +he said.</p> + +<p>He clearly heard suppressed exclamations as the water penetrated +inside the van. Having emptied the can, he proceeded to +drag the tarpaulin over the roof, leaving uncovered only a small +portion in the centre.</p> + +<p>The barman of The Green Lion had been watching Bindle +with open-mouthed astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What the 'ell are you up to, mate?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>Bindle put his forefinger of the right hand to the side of his +nose and winked mysteriously. Then going inside The Green +Lion he, in a way that did not outrage the regulations that there +should be no "treating," had Tippitt's tankard refilled, and called +for another for himself.</p> + +<p>"If you watch the papers," Bindle remarked to the barman, +"I shouldn't be surprised if you was to see wot I was a-doin' on +the top of that there van," and again he winked.</p> + +<p>The barman looked from Bindle to Tippitt, then touching +his forehead with a fugitive first finger, and glancing in the +direction of Bindle, made it clear that another was prepared +to support the diagnosis of the young woman at the oil-shop.</p> + +<p>Bindle completed the journey on the top of the van, industriously +occupied in puffing lamp-black through the holes in the +roof. His method was to dip the end of the pea-puffer into the +packet, then insert it in one of the holes and give a sharp puff. +This he did half a dozen times in quick succession. Then he +would pause for a few minutes to allow the lamp-black to settle. +He argued that if he puffed it all in at once, it would in all +probability choke the occupants.</p> + +<p>By the time they turned from the King's Road into Ebury +Street, Bindle's task was accomplished—the lamp-black was +exhausted.</p> + +<p>"Victoria Station," he called out loudly to Tippitt. "Shan't +be long now, mate. Another shower a-comin', better cover up +these bloomin' 'oles," and he drew the tarpaulin over the rest +of the roof. "Let 'em stoo a bit now," he muttered to himself. +"That'll make 'em 'ot."</p> + +<p>He had been conscious of suppressed coughing and sneezing +from within, which he detected by placing his ear near the holes +in the roof.</p> + +<p>Opposite the Houses of Parliament, a lady came up to Bindle +and handed him a key. "This is the key of the pantechnicon,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +she said loudly. "You are not to undo it until you reach Number +110, Downing Street. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" remarked Bindle, "I got it."</p> + +<p>"Now don't forget!" said the lady, and she disappeared +swiftly in the direction of Victoria Street.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't goin' to forget," murmured Bindle to himself, +"an' I shouldn't be surprised if there was others wot ain't goin' +to forget either."</p> + +<p>He watched the lady who had given him the key well out of +sight, then slipping off the tail-board of the van he walked +swiftly along Whitehall.</p> + +<p>A few yards south of Downing Street, an inspector of police was +meditatively contemplating the flow of traffic north and south.</p> + +<p>Bindle went up to him. "Pretend that I'm askin' the way, +sir. I'm most likely bein' watched. I got a van wot's supposed +to contain carved-oak furniture for Mr. Llewellyn John, 110, +Downing Street. I think it's full o' suffragettes goin' to raid 'im. +You get your men round there, the van'll be up in two ticks. +Now point as if you was showing me Downing Street."</p> + +<p>The inspector was a man of quick decision and, looking keenly +at Bindle, decided that he was to be trusted.</p> + +<p>"Right!" he said, then extending an official arm, pointed out +Downing Street to Bindle. "Don't hurry," he added.</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" said Bindle. "Joseph Bindle's my name. I'm +a special, Fulham district."</p> + +<p>The inspector nodded, and Bindle turned back to the van. A +moment later the inspector strolled leisurely through the archway +leading to the Foreign Office.</p> + +<p>"That's Downing Street on the left," shouted Bindle to Tippitt +as he came up, much to Tippitt's surprise. He was at a loss +to account for many things that Bindle had done and said that +day.</p> + +<p>As they turned into Downing Street, Bindle was a little disappointed +at finding only two constables; but he was relieved a a moment later +by the sight of the inspector to whom he had spoken, hurrying through +the archway, leading from the Foreign Office.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going to?" called out the inspector to Tippitt, +taking no notice of Bindle.</p> + +<p>Tippitt jerked his thumb in the direction of Bindle, who came +forward at that moment.</p> + +<p>"Number 110, Downing Street, sir," responded Bindle. +"Some furniture for Mr. Llewellyn John."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Right!" said the inspector loudly; "but you'll have to wait +a few minutes until that motor-car has gone."</p> + +<p>Bindle winked as a sign of his acceptance of the mythical +motor-car and, drawing the key of the pantechnicon from his +pocket, showed it to the inspector, who, by closing his eyes and +slightly bending his head, indicated that he understood.</p> + +<p>Tippitt had decided that everybody was mad this morning. +The police inspector's reference to a motor-car outside Number +110, whereas his eyes told him that there was nothing there but +roadway and dust, had seriously undermined his respect for the +Metropolitan Police Force. However, it was not his business. +He was there to drive the horses, who in turn drew a van to +a given spot; there his responsibility ended.</p> + +<p>After a wait of nearly ten minutes, the inspector re-appeared. +"It's all clear now," he remarked. "Draw up."</p> + +<p>As the pantechnicon pulled up in front of Number 110, Bindle +glanced up at the house and saw Mr. Llewellyn John looking +out of one of the first-floor windows. He had evidently been +apprised of what was taking place.</p> + +<p>Bindle noticed that the doors of Number 110 and 111 were both +ajar. He was, however, a little puzzled at the absence of police. +The two uniformed constables had been reinforced by three +others, and there were two obviously plain-clothes men loitering +about.</p> + +<p>"Now then, Tippy, get ready to lend me a 'and with this 'ere +furniture," called out Bindle as he proceeded to insert the key +in the padlock that fastened the doors of the van.</p> + +<p>Tippitt, who had climbed down, was standing close to the +tail-board facing the doors.</p> + +<p>With a quick movement Bindle released the padlock from +the hasp and, lifting the bar, stepped aside with an agility that +was astonishing.</p> + +<p>"Votes for Women! Votes for Women!! Votes for Women!!!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly the placid quiet of Downing Street was shattered. +The doors of the pantechnicon were burst open and thrown back +upon their hinges, where they shivered as if trembling with fear. +From the interior of the van poured such a stream of humanity +as Downing Street had never before seen.</p> + +<p>Following Bindle's lead the inspector had taken the precaution +of stepping aside; but Tippitt, unconscious that the van contained +anything more aggressive than carved-oak furniture, was +in the direct line of exit. At the moment the doors flew open +he was in the act of removing his coat and, with his arms +en<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>tangled in its sleeves, sat down with a suddenness that caused +his teeth to rattle and his cigarette to fall from his lower lip.</p> + +<p>Synchronising with the opening of the doors of the pantechnicon was a +short, sharp blast of a police whistle. The effect was magical. Men +seemed to pour into Downing Street from everywhere: from the archway +leading to the Foreign Office, up the steps from Green Park, from +Whitehall and out of Numbers 110 and 111. Plain-clothes and uniformed +police seemed to spring up from everywhere; but no one took any notice +of the fall of Tippitt. All eyes were fixed upon the human avalanche +that was pouring from the inside of the pantechnicon. For once in its +existence the Metropolitan Police Force was rendered helpless with +astonishment. Women they had expected, women they were prepared for; +but the extraordinary flood of femininity that cascaded out of the van +absolutely staggered them.</p> + +<p>There were short women and tall women, stout women and +thin women, young women and—well, women not so young. +The one thing they had in common was lamp-black. It was +smeared upon their faces, streaked upon their garments; it had +circled their eyes, marked the lines of their mouths, had collected +round their nostrils. The heat inside the pantechnicon had +produced the necessary moisture upon the fair faces and with +this the lamp-black had formed an unholy alliance. Hats were +awry, hair was dishevelled, frocks were limp and bedraggled.</p> + +<p>The cries of "Votes for Women" that had heralded the +triumphant outburst from the van froze upon their lips as the +demonstrators caught sight of one another. Each gazed at the +others in mute astonishment, whilst Tippitt, from his seat in the +middle of the roadway, stared, wondering in a stupid way whether +what he saw was the heat, or the five pints of ale he had consumed +at Bindle's expense during the morning.</p> + +<p>The inspector looked at Bindle curiously, and Bindle looked at +the inspector with self-satisfaction, whilst the constables +discovered that their unhappy anticipation of a rough and tumble +with women, a thing they disliked, had been turned into a most +delectable comedy.</p> + +<p>At the first-floor window Mr. Llewellyn John watched the +scene with keen enjoyment.</p> + +<p>For a full minute the women stood gazing from one to the +other in a dazed fashion. Finally one with stouter heart than the +rest shouted "Votes for Women! This is a woman's war!"</p> + +<p>But there was no answering cry from the ranks. Slowly it +dawned upon each and every woman that in all probability she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +was looking just as ridiculous as those she saw about her. One +girl produced a small looking-glass from a hand-bag. She gave +one glance into it, and incontinently went into hysterics, flopping +down where she stood.</p> + +<p>The public, conscious that great events were happening in +Downing Street, poured into the narrow thoroughfare, and the +laughter denied the official police by virtue of discipline was heard +on every hand.</p> + +<p>"Christy Minstrels, ain't they?" enquired one youth of another +with ponderous humour.</p> + +<p>It was at the moment that one of them had raised a despairing +cry of "Votes for Women," and had received no support.</p> + +<p>"Votes for Women!" remarked one man shrewdly. "Soap +for Women! is what they want."</p> + +<p>"Fancy comin' out like that, even in wartime," commented +another.</p> + +<p>"'Ow'd they get like that?" enquired a third.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you never know them suffragettes," remarked a fourth +sagely; "they're always out for doing something different from +what's been done before."</p> + +<p>"Well, they done it this time," commented a little man with +grey whiskers. "Enough to make Gawd 'Imself ashamed of us, +them women is. Bah!" and he spat contemptuously.</p> + +<p>The inspector felt that the time for action had arrived. Walking +up to the unhappy group of twenty, he remarked in his most +official tone:</p> + +<p>"You cannot stand about here, you must be moving on."</p> + +<p>"Moving on; but where?" They looked into each other's eyes +mutely. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike them and they turned +instinctively to re-enter the van; but Bindle had anticipated this +manœuvre, and had carefully closed, barred and padlocked the +doors.</p> + +<p>The inspector nodded approval. He had formed a very high +opinion of Bindle's powers, although greatly puzzled by the +whole business. At a signal from their superior, a number of +uniformed constables formed up behind the forlorn band of +females, several of whom were in tears.</p> + +<p>"Move along there, please," they chorused, dexterously splitting +up the group into smaller groups, and, finally, into ones +and twos. Thus they were herded towards Whitehall.</p> + +<p>"Will you call some cabs, please," said she who was obviously +the leader. The inspector shook his head, whereat the woman +smacked the face of the nearest constable, obviously with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +intention of being arrested. Again the inspector shook his head. +He had made up his mind that there should be no arrests that +day. Nemesis had taken a hand in the game, and the inspector +recognized in her one who is more powerful than the Metropolitan +Police Force.</p> + +<p>Slowly amidst the jeers of the crowd the twenty women were +shepherded into Whitehall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, please get me a taxi," appealed a little blonde woman +with a hard mouth and what looked like a dark black moustache. +"I cannot go about like this."</p> + +<p>Suddenly one of their number was taken with shrieking hysterics. +She sat down suddenly, giving vent to shriek after shriek, +and beating a tattoo with the heels of her shoes upon the roadway; +but no one took any notice of her and soon she rose and +followed the others.</p> + +<p>In Whitehall frantic appeals were made to drivers of taxicabs +and conductorettes of omnibuses. None would accept such +fares.</p> + +<p>"It 'ud take a month to clean my bloomin' cab after you'd +been in it," shouted one man derisively. "What jer want to get +yourself in such a dirty mess for?"</p> + +<p>"Go 'ome and wash the baby," shouted another.</p> + +<p>Nowhere did the Black and White Raiders find sympathy or +assistance. Two of the leaders of the Suffragette Movement, who +happened to be passing down Whitehall, were attracted by the +crowd. On learning what had happened, and seeing the plight +of the demonstrators, they continued on their way.</p> + +<p>"This is war-time," one of them remarked to the other, "and +they're disobeying the rules of the Association." With this they +were left to their fate.</p> + +<p>Some made for the Tube, others for the District Railway, +whilst two sought out a tea-shop and demanded washing facilities; +but were refused. The railway-stations were their one source +of hope. For the next three hours passengers travelling to +Wimbledon were astonished to see entering the train forlorn +and dishevelled women, whose faces were rendered hideous by +smears of black, and whose white frocks, limp and crumpled, +looked as if they had been used to clean machinery.</p> + +<p>"A pleasant little afternoon's treat for you, sir," remarked +Bindle to the inspector, when the last of the raiders had +disappeared. "Mr. John seemed to enjoy it." Bindle indicated +the first-floor window of Number 110, with a jerk of his thumb.</p> + +<p>"Was that your doing?" enquired the inspector.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," replied Bindle, "it was an' it wasn't," and he explained +how it had all come about.</p> + +<p>"And what am I goin' to do with this 'ere van?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Better run it round to 'the Yard,' then you can take home +the horses," replied the inspector.</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" said Bindle.</p> + +<p>"By the way," added the inspector, "I'm coming round myself. +I should like you to see Chief-Inspector Gunny."</p> + +<p>Bindle nodded cheerily. "'Ullo, Tippy!" he cried, "knocked +you down, didn't they?"</p> + +<p>Tippitt grinned, he had thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment +and bore no malice.</p> + +<p>"That's why you got the watering-can, mate?" he remarked.</p> + +<p>Bindle surveyed him with mock admiration.</p> + +<p>"Now ain't you clever," he remarked. "Fancy you a-seein' +that. There ain't no spots on you, Tippy;" whereat Tippitt +grinned again modestly.</p> + +<p>That afternoon Bindle was introduced to the Famous Chief-Inspector +Gunny of Scotland Yard, who, for years previously, had been the head +of the department dealing with the suffragist demonstrations. He +was a genial, large-hearted man, who had earned the respect, almost +the liking of those whose official enemy he was. When he heard +Bindle's story, he roared with laughter, and insisted that Bindle +should himself tell about the Black and White Raiders to the +Deputy-Commissioner and the Chief Constable. It was nearly four +o'clock when Bindle left Scotland Yard, smoking a big cigar with +which the Deputy-Commissioner had presented him.</p> + +<p>Chief-Inspector Gunny's last words had been, "Well, Bindle, +you've done us a great service. If at any time I can help you, +let me know."</p> + +<p>"Now I wonder wot 'e meant by that," murmured Bindle to +himself. "Does it mean that I can 'ave a little flutter at bigamy, +or that I can break 'Earty's bloomin' 'ead and not get pinched +for it. Still," he remarked cheerfully, "it's been an 'appy day, +a very 'appy day," and he turned in at The Feathers and ordered +"somethink to wet this 'ere cigar."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE AIR-RAID</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + + +<p>"There wasn't no 'ome life in England until the Kayser started +a-droppin' bombs in people's back-yards," remarked Bindle oracularly. +"Funny thing," he continued, "'ow everybody seemed to find out 'ow +fond they was of settin' at 'ome because they was afraid o' goin' +out."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked at Mr. Gupperduck and Mr. Gupperduck +looked at Mrs. Bindle. They required time in which to assimilate +so profound an utterance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck had firmly established himself in the good +graces of Mr. Hearty and the leaders of the Alton Road Chapel. +He was a constant visitor at the Heartys', especially at meal +times, and at the chapel he prayed with great fervour, beating +all records as far as endurance was concerned.</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you," remarked Mr. Gupperduck at length, +"I do not agree with you. The Scriptures say, 'Every man to +his family.'"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked gratefully at his guest. It was pleasant +to find Bindle controverted.</p> + +<p>"You know, Alf, you never been so much at 'ome," wheezed +Mrs. Hearty, hitting her chest remorselessly. "You never go out +on moonlight nights."</p> + +<p>"You trust 'im," said Bindle. "'Earty an' the moon ain't +never out together."</p> + +<p>"We are told to take cover," said Mr. Hearty with dignity.</p> + +<p>"An' wot about us pore fellers wot 'as to be out in it all?" +demanded Bindle, looking down at his special constable's uniform.</p> + +<p>"You should commend yourself to God," said Mr. Gupperduck +piously. "He that putteth his trust in Him shall not be afraid."</p> + +<p>"Ain't you afraid then when there's a raid on?" demanded +Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I have no fear of earthly things," replied Mr. Gupperduck, +lifting his eyes to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"'E's all Gupperduck an' camelflage, ain't 'e, Millikins?" +whispered Bindle to his niece. Then aloud he said: "Well, Mrs. +B. ain't like you! She's afraid like all the rest of us. I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +believe much in coves wot say they ain't afraid. You ask the +boys back from France. You don't 'ear them a-sayin' they ain't +afraid. They knows too much for that."</p> + +<p>"There is One above who watches over us all, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty, +emboldened to unaccustomed temerity by the presence of Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck, "our lives and our happiness +are in God's hands, wherefore should we feel afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" remarked Bindle, with resignation, "you an' +'Earty beat me when it comes to pluck. When I'm out with all +them guns a-goin', an' bombs a-droppin' about, I'd sooner be +somewhere else, an' I ain't a-goin' to say different. P'raps it's +because I'm an 'eathen."</p> + +<p>"The hour of repentance should not be deferred," said Mr. +Gupperduck. "It is not too late even now."</p> + +<p>"It's no good," said Bindle decisively. "I should never be +able to feel as brave as wot you are when there's a raid on."</p> + +<p>"'Oh ye of little faith!'" murmured Mr. Gupperduck mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Think of Daniel in the lions' den," said Mrs. Bindle. +"And Jonah in the—er—interior of the whale," added Mr. +Hearty with great delicacy.</p> + +<p>"No," remarked Bindle, shaking his head with conviction, +"I wasn't made for lions, or whales. I suppose I'm a bit of a +coward."</p> + +<p>"I don't feel brave when there's a raid, Uncle Joe," said +Millie Hearty loyally. She had been a silent listener. "And +mother isn't either, are you, mums?" she turned to Mrs. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"It's my breath," responded Mrs. Hearty, patting her ample +bosom. "It gets me here."</p> + +<p>"That's because you don't go to chapel, Martha," said Bindle. +"If you was to turn up there three times on Sundays you'd be as +brave as wot Mr. Gupperduck is. Ain't that so?" he enquired, +turning to Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"You're always sneering at the chapel," broke in Mrs. Bindle, +without giving the lodger time to reply. "It doesn't do us any +harm, whatever you may think."</p> + +<p>"That's jest where you're wrong, Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle, +settling himself down for a controversy. "I ain't got nothink to +say against the chapel, if they'd only let you set quiet; but it's +such an up an' down sort o' life. When you ain't kneelin' down +a-askin' to be saved from wot you know you deserves, or kept +from doin' wot you're nuts on doin', you're a-standin' up a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>singin' +'ymns about all sorts of uncomfortable things wot you says you 'opes +to find in 'eaven."</p> + +<p>"You have a jaundiced view of religion, Mr. Bindle," said +Mr. Gupperduck ponderously. "A jaundiced view," he repeated, +pleased with the phrase.</p> + +<p>"'Ave I really?" enquired Bindle anxiously. "I 'ope it ain't +catchin'. No," he continued meditatively, "I wasn't meant for +chapels. I seem to be able to think best about 'eaven when I'm +settin' smokin' after supper, with Mrs. B. a-bangin' at the stove +to remind me that I ain't there yet."</p> + +<p>"Wot does me," he continued, "is that I never yet see any +of your chapel coves 'appier for all your singin' an' prayin'. +Why is it? Look at you three now! If you was goin' to be +plucked and trussed to-morrow, you couldn't look more fidgety."</p> + +<p>Instinctively each of the three looked at the other two. Mr. +Gupperduck shook his head hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand, Joseph," murmured Mr. Hearty with +mournful resignation.</p> + +<p>"I can understand Ruddy Bill gettin' drunk," Bindle continued, +"because 'e do look 'appy when 'e's got a skin-full; but +I can't understand you a-wantin' to pray, 'Earty, I can't really. +I only once see a lot o' religious people 'appy, an' that was +when they got drunk by mistake. Lord, didn't they teach me +an' ole 'Uggles things! 'E blushes like a gal when I mentions +it. 'Uggles 'as a nice mind, 'e 'as.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must be goin', 'Earty, in case them 'Uns come over +to-night. You ought to be a special, 'Earty, there's some rare +fine gals on Putney 'Ill."</p> + +<p>"Do you think there'll be an air-raid to-night?" asked Mr. +Gupperduck with something more than casual interest in his +voice.</p> + +<p>"May be," said Bindle casually, "may be not. Funny things, +air-raids, they've changed a rare lot o' things," he remarked +meditatively. "Once we used to want the moon to come out, +sort o' made us think of gals and settin' on stiles. Mrs. B. was +a rare one for moons and stiles, wasn't you, Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be disgusting, Bindle." There was anger in Mrs. +Bindle's voice.</p> + +<p>"Now," continued Bindle imperturbably, "no cove don't want +to go out an' set on a stile a-'oldin' of a gal's 'and: not 'im. +When 'is job's done, 'e starts orf for 'ome like giddy-o, an' you +don't see 'is nose again till the next mornin'."</p> + +<p>Bindle paused to wink at Mr. Hearty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If there's any gal now," he continued, "wot wants 'er 'and +'eld on moonlight nights, she'll 'ave to 'old it 'erself, or wait till +peace comes."</p> + +<p>"If you would only believe, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck +earnestly, making a final effort at Bindle's salvation. +"'If thou canst believe, all things are possible.' Ah!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck started into an upright position with eyes +dilated as a loud report was heard.</p> + +<p>"What was that?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"That," remarked Bindle drily, as he rose and picked up his +peaked cap, "is the signal for you an' 'Earty to put your trust +in Gawd. In other words," he added, "it's a gun, 'im wot Fulham +calls 'The Barker.'"</p> + +<p>Bindle looked from Mr. Hearty, leaden-hued with fright, to +Mr. Gupperduck, whose teeth were chattering, on to Mrs. Bindle, +who was white to the lips.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must be orf," he said, adjusting his cap upon his +head at a rakish angle. "If I don't come back, Mrs. B., you'll +be a widow, an' widows are wonderful things. Cheer-o! all."</p> + +<p>Bindle turned and left the room, his niece Millie following him +out into the passage.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Joe," she said, clutching hold of his coat sleeve, "you +will be careful, won't you?" Then with a little catch in her +voice, she added, "You know you are the only Uncle Joe I've +got."</p> + +<p>And Bindle went out into the night where the guns thundered +and the shrapnel burst in sinister white stabs in the sky, +whilst over all brooded the Great Queen of the heavens, bathing +in her white peace the red war of pigmies.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Two hours later Bindle's ring at the Heartys' bell was answered +by Millie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe!" she cried joyfully, "I'm so glad you're back +safe. Hasn't it been dreadful?" Her lower lip quivered a little.</p> + +<p>"You ain't been frightened, Millikins, 'ave you?" enquired +Bindle solicitously.</p> + +<p>"A soldier's wife isn't afraid, Uncle Joe," she replied bravely. +Millie's sweetheart, Charlie Dixon, was at the front.</p> + +<p>"My! ain't we gettin' a woman, Millikins," cried Bindle, +putting his arm affectionately round her shoulders and kissing her +cheek loudly. "Everybody all right?" he enquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so, Uncle Joe, but," she squeezed his arm, +"I'm so glad you're back. I've been thinking of you all the +time. Every time there was a big bang I—I wondered——"</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" interrupted Bindle, "we ain't goin' to be down-'earted, +are we? It's over now, you'll 'ear the 'All Clear' in a +few minutes."</p> + +<p>Bindle walked into the Heartys' parlour, where Mrs. Hearty +was seated on the sofa half asleep.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, Martha!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Joe," she said, "I'm glad you're back. I'm afraid +there's been a lot of——" Her breath failed her, and she broke +off into a wheeze.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked about him curiously.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo! wot's 'appened to them three little cherubs?" he +enquired.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hearty began to shake and wheeze with laughter, and +Millie stood looking at Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Wot's 'appened, Millikins?" he enquired. "Done a bunk, +'ave they?"</p> + +<p>"They're—they're in the potato-cellar, Uncle Joe," said Millie +without the ghost of a smile. Somehow it seemed to her almost +like a reflection on her own courage that her father and aunt +should have thought only of their personal safety.</p> + +<p>Bindle slapped his leg with keen enjoyment. "Well, I'm +blowed!" he cried, "if that ain't rich. Three people wot was +talkin' about puttin' their trust in Gawd a-goin' into that little +funk-'ole. Well, I'm blowed!"</p> + +<p>"Don't laugh, Uncle Joe," began Millie, "I—I——" She +broke off, unable to express what was in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry, Millikins," he replied as he moved towards +the door. "I'd better go and tell 'em that it's all right."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty's potato-cellar was reached through a trap-door +flush with the floor of the shop.</p> + +<p>With the aid of an electric torch, Bindle looked about him. +His eyes fell on a large pair of scales, on which were weights up +to 7 lbs. This gave him an idea. Carefully placing a box beside +the trap-door, he lifted the scales and weights in his arms and, +with great caution, mounted on to the top of the box. Suddenly +he let the scales and weights fall with a tremendous crash, full +in the centre of the trap-door, at the same time giving vent to +a shout. Millie came running in from the parlour.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Uncle Joe, what has happened?" she cried. "Are +you hurt?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's all right, Millikins, knocked over these 'ere scales I did. +Ain't I clumsy? 'Ush!"</p> + +<p>Moans and cries could be distinctly heard from below.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, 'elp me gather 'em up, Millikins. I 'ope I 'aven't +broken the scales."</p> + +<p>Having replaced the scales and weights on the counter, Bindle +proceeded to pull up the trap-door.</p> + +<p>"All clear!" he shouted cheerily.</p> + +<p>There was no response, only a moaning from the extreme +corner of the cellar.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, come along, 'Earty. Wot d'you two mean by takin' +my missis down into a cellar like that?"</p> + +<p>"Is it gone?" quavered a voice that Bindle assumed must be +that of Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"Is wot gone?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"The bomb," whispered the voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come up, Gupperduck," said Bindle. "Don't play the +giddy goat in the potato-cellar. Wot about you puttin' your trust +in Gawd?"</p> + +<p>There was a sound of movement below. A few moments later Mr. +Gupperduck's face appeared within the radius of light. He had lost his +spectacles and his upper set of false teeth. His hair was awry and his +face distorted with fear. He climbed laboriously up the steps leading +to the shop. He was followed by Mr. Hearty, literally yellow with +terror.</p> + +<p>"Wot 'ave you done with my missis?" demanded Bindle.</p> + +<p>"She—she—she's down there," stuttered Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"Then you two jolly well go down and fetch 'er up, or I'll +kick you down," cried Bindle angrily. "Nice sort of sports you +are, leavin' a woman alone in an 'ole like that, after takin' er +down there."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gupperduck looked at Bindle and then at +each other. Slowly they turned and descended the ladder again. +For some minutes they could be heard moving about below, then +Mr. Hearty appeared with Mrs. Bindle's limp form clasped round +the waist, whilst Mr. Gupperduck pushed from behind.</p> + +<p>For one moment a grin flitted across Bindle's features, then, +seeing Mrs. Bindle's pathetic plight, his manner changed.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, Millikins, get some water," he cried. "Your Aunt +Lizzie's fainted."</p> + +<p>Between them they half-carried, half-dragged Mrs. Bindle +into the parlour, where she was laid upon the sofa, vacated by +Mrs. Hearty. Her hands were chafed, water dabbed upon her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +forehead, and a piece of brown paper burned under her nose by +Mrs. Hearty.</p> + +<p>She had not lost consciousness; but stared about her in a +vague, half-dazed fashion.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gupperduck, who had retrieved his false +teeth, seemed thoroughly ashamed of themselves. It was Mr. +Hearty who suggested that Mrs. Bindle should spend the night +with them, as she was not in a fit condition to go home.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the "All Clear" signal rang out joyfully upon the +stillness without, two long-drawn-out notes that told of another +twenty-four hours of safety. Mr. Gupperduck straightened himself, Mr. +Hearty seemed to revive, and from Mrs. Bindle's eyes fled the +expression of fear.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must be orf," said Bindle. "Look after my missis, +'Earty. You comin' along, Mr. G.?" he enquired of Mr. Gupperduck, +as, followed by Millie, he left the room.</p> + +<p>"It was sweet of you not to laugh at them, Uncle Joe," said +Millie, as they stood at the door waiting for Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"Nobody didn't ought to mind sayin' they're afraid, Millikins," +said Bindle, looking at the serious face before him; "but +I don't like a cove wot says 'e's brave, an' then turns out to 'ave +about as much 'eart as a shillin' rabbit. Come along, Mr. G. +Good night, Millikins, my dear. Are we down-'earted? No!" +and Bindle went out into the night, followed by a meek and +chastened Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE DUPLICATION OF MR. HEARTY</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>"You've never been a real husband to me," burst out Mrs. +Bindle stormily.</p> + +<p>Bindle did not even raise his eyes from his favourite +dish of stewed-steak-and-onions.</p> + +<p>"Cold mutton," he had once remarked to his friend, Ginger, +"means peace, because I don't like it—the mutton, I mean; but +stewed-steak-and-onions means an 'ell of a row. Mrs. B. ain't +able to see me enjoyin' myself but wot she thinks I'm bein' +rude to Gawd."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle continued his meal in silent expectation.</p> + +<p>"Look at you!" continued Mrs. Bindle. "Look at you now!"</p> + +<p>Bindle still declined to be drawn into a discussion.</p> + +<p>"Look at Mr. Hearty." Mrs. Bindle uttered her challenge with +the air of one who plays the ace of trumps.</p> + +<p>With great deliberation Bindle wiped the last remaining vestige +of gravy from his plate with a piece of bread, which he placed +in his mouth. With a sigh he leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Personally, myself," he remarked calmly, "I'd rather not."</p> + +<p>"Rather not what?" snapped Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Look at 'Earty," was the response.</p> + +<p>"You might look at worse men than him," flashed Mrs. Bindle +with rising wrath.</p> + +<p>"I might," replied Bindle, "and then again I might not."</p> + +<p>"Look how he's got on!" challenged Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>After a few moments of silence Bindle remarked more to himself +than to Mrs. Bindle:</p> + +<p>"Gawd made me, an' Gawd made 'Earty; but in one of us +'E made a bloomer. If I'm right, 'Earty's wrong; if 'Earty's +right, I'm wrong. If they 'ave me in 'eaven, they won't want +'Earty; an' if 'Earty gets in, well, they won't look at me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle proceeded to gather up the plates.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for that stoo," said Bindle as he tilted back his +chair contentedly.</p> + +<p>"You should thank God, not me," was the ungracious retort.</p> + +<p>For a moment Bindle appeared to ponder the remark. "Some'ow," +he said at length, "I don't think I should like to thank +Gawd for stewed-steak-an'-onions," and he drew his pipe from +his pocket and began to charge it.</p> + +<p>"Don't start smoking," snapped Mrs. Bindle, rising from the +chair and going over to the stove.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked up with interested enquiry on his features.</p> + +<p>"There's an apple-pudding," continued Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle pocketed his pipe with a happy expression on his +features. "Lizzie," he said, "'ow could you treat me like +this?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"An apple-puddin' a-waitin' to be eaten, an' you lettin' me +waste time a-talkin' about 'Earty's looks. It ain't kind of you, +Lizzie, it ain't really."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle's sole response was a series of bangs, as she proceeded +to turn out the apple-pudding.</p> + +<p>Bindle ate and ate generously. When he had finished he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +pushed the plate from him and once more produced his pipe +from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. B.," he said, "you may be a Christian; but you're a +damn fine cook."</p> + +<p>"Don't use such language to me," was the response, uttered +a little less ungraciously than her previous remarks.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Mrs. B., don't you worry, they ain't a-goin' to +charge that there 'damn' up against you. You're too nervous +about the devil, you are," Bindle struck a match and sucked +at his pipe.</p> + +<p>"He's going to open another shop," said Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Who, the devil?" enquired Bindle in surprise.</p> + +<p>"It's going to be in Putney High Street," continued Mrs. +Bindle, ignoring Bindle's remark.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked up at her with genuine puzzlement on his +features.</p> + +<p>"Putney 'Igh Street used to be a pretty 'ot place at night +before the war," he remarked; "it ain't exactly cool now; but I +never thought o' the devil openin' a shop there."</p> + +<p>"I said Mr. Hearty," retorted Mrs. Bindle angrily.</p> + +<p>"Oh! 'Earty," said Bindle contemptuously. "'Earty'd open +anythink except 'is 'eart, or a barrel of apples 'e's sellin', knowin' +them to be rotten. Wot's 'e want to open another shop for? +'E's got two already, ain't 'e?"</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you got on?" stormed Mrs. Bindle inconsequently. +"Why haven't you got three shops?"</p> + +<p>"Well!" continued Bindle, "I might 'ave done so, but wot +should I sell in 'em?"</p> + +<p>"You never got on, you lorst every job you ever got. You'd +'ave lorst me long ago if——"</p> + +<p>"No," remarked Bindle with solemn conviction as he rose +and took his cap from behind the door. "You ain't the sort o' +woman wot's lorst, Mrs. B., you're one o' them wot's found, +like the little lamb that Ole Woe-and-Whiskers talked about +when I went to chapel with you that night. S'long."</p> + +<p>The news about Mr. Hearty's third venture in the greengrocery +trade occupied Bindle's mind to the exclusion of all else as he +walked in the direction of Chelsea to call upon Dr. Richard +Little, whom he had met in connection with the Temperance +Fête fiasco at Barton Bridge. He winked at only three girls +and passed two remarks to carmen, and one to a bus-conductor, +who was holding on rather unnecessarily to the arm of a pretty +girl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>He found Dick Little at home and with him his brother Tom, +and "Guggers," now a captain in the Gordons.</p> + +<p>"Hullo! Here's J.B., gug-gug-good," cried Guggers, hurling +his fourteen stone towards the diminutive visitor.</p> + +<p>"Blessed if it ain't ole Spit-and-Speak in petticoats," cried +Bindle. "I'm glad to see you, sir, that I am," and he shook +Guggers warmly by the hand.</p> + +<p>Guggers, as he was known at Oxford on account of his inability +to pronounce a "G" without a preliminary "gug-gug," had taken +a prominent part in the Oxford rag, when Bindle posed as the +millionaire uncle of an unpopular undergraduate.</p> + +<p>Bindle had christened him Spit-and-Speak owing to Gugger's +habit of salivating his words.</p> + +<p>When the men were seated, and Bindle was puffing furiously +at a big cigar, he explained the cause of his visit.</p> + +<p>"I ain't 'appy, sir," he said to Dick Little, "and although the +'ymn says ''ere we suffer grief an' woe,' it don't say we got to +suffer grief an' woe an' 'Earty, altogether."</p> + +<p>"What's up, J.B.?" enquired Dick Little.</p> + +<p>"Well, if the truth's got to be told, sir, I got 'Earty in the +throat."</p> + +<p>"Got what?" enquired Tom Little, grinning.</p> + +<p>"'Earty, my brother-in-law, 'Earty. I 'ad 'im thrust down my throat +to-night with stewed-steak-and-onions an' apple-puddin'. The +stewed-steak and the puddin' slipped down all right; but 'Earty +stuck."</p> + +<p>"What's he been up to now?" enquired Dick Little.</p> + +<p>"'E's goin' to open another shop in Putney 'Igh Street, that's +number three. 'Earty with two shops give me 'ell; but with three +shops it'll be 'ell and blazes."</p> + +<p>"Gug-gug-gave you hell?" interrogated Guggers.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. B.," explained Bindle laconically. Then after a pause +he added, "No matter wot's wrong at 'ome, if the pipes burst +through frost, or the butcher's late with the meat, or if it's a +sixpenny milkman instead of a fivepenny milkman, Mrs. B. +always seems to think it's through me not being like 'Earty, as +if any man 'ud be like 'Earty wot could be like somethink else, +even if it was a conchie. No," continued Bindle, "somethink's +got to be done. That's why I come round this evenin'."</p> + +<p>"Can't we gug-gug-get up a rag?" enquired Guggers. "If I +gug-gug-go back to France without a rag we shall never beat +the Huns."</p> + +<p>For a few minutes the four men continued to smoke, Dick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +Little meditatively, Bindle furiously. It was Bindle who broke +the silence.</p> + +<p>"You may think I got a down on 'Earty, sir?" he said, addressing +Dick Little. "Well, p'rap's I 'ave: but 'Eaven's sometimes +a little late in punishin' people, an' I ain't above lendin' an 'and. +'Earty's afraid o' me because 'e's afraid of wot I may say, +knowin' wot I know."</p> + +<p>With this enigmatical utterance, Bindle buried his face in the +tankard that was always kept for him at Dick Little's flat.</p> + +<p>"We might of course celebrate the occasion," murmured Dick +Little meditatively.</p> + +<p>"Gug-gug-great Scott!" cried Guggers. "We will! Gug-gug-good +old Dick!" He brought a heavy hand down on Dick Little's +shoulder blade. "Out with it!"</p> + +<p>For the next hour the four men conferred together, and by the +time Bindle found it necessary to return to his "little grey 'ome +in the west," the success of Mr. Hearty's third shop was assured, +that is its advertisement was assured.</p> + +<p>"It'll cost an 'ell of a lot of money," said Bindle doubtfully +as he rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Gug-gug-get out!" cried Guggers, whose income was an affair +of five figures. "For a rag like that I'd gug-gug-give my—my——"</p> + +<p>"Not your trousers, sir," interrupted Bindle, gazing down at +Guggers' brawny knees; "remember you gone into short clothes. +Wouldn't do for me to go about like that," he added, "me with +my various veins."</p> + +<p>And Bindle left Dick Little's flat, rich in the knowledge he +possessed of coming events.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>"Any'ow," remarked Bindle as he stood in front of the looking-glass +over the kitchen mantelpiece, adjusting his special constable's +cap at a suitable angle. "Any'ow, 'Earty's got a fine day."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle sniffed and banged a vegetable-dish on the dresser. +She appeared to possess an almost uncanny judgment as to how +much banging a utensil would stand without breaking.</p> + +<p>"Now," continued Bindle philosophically, "it's a fine day, the +sun's shinin', people comin' out, wantin' to buy vegetables; yet +I'll bet my whistle to 'is whole stock that 'Earty ain't 'appy."</p> + +<p>"We're not here to be happy," snapped Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"It ain't always easy to see why some of us is 'ere at all,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +remarked Bindle, as he gave his cap a further twist over to the +right in an endeavour to get a real Sir David Beatty touch to +his appearance.</p> + +<p>"We're here to do the Lord's work," said Mrs. Bindle sententiously</p> + +<p>"But d'you mean to tell me that Gawd made 'Earty specially +to sell vegetables, 'im with a face like that?" questioned Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle's reply was in bangs. Sometimes Bindle's literalness +was disconcerting.</p> + +<p>"Did Gawd make me to move furniture?" he persisted. "No, +Mrs. B.," he continued. "It's more than likely that Gawd jest +puts us down 'ere an' lets us sort ourselves out, 'Im up there +a-watchin' to see 'ow we does it."</p> + +<p>"You're a child of Moloch, Joseph Bindle," said Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"A child o' what-lock?" enquired Bindle "Who's 'e?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! go along with you, don't bother me. I'm busy," cried Mrs. +Bindle. "I promised Mr. Hearty I'd be round at two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Now ain't that jest like a woman," complained Bindle to a +fly-catcher hanging from the gas-bracket. "Ain't that jest like +a woman. If you're too busy to tell me why I'm a child of ole +What-a-Clock, why ain't you too busy to tell me that I am a child +of ole What-a-Clock?" and with this profound enquiry Bindle +slipped out, assuring Mrs. Bindle that he would see her some +time during the afternoon as he was to be on duty in Putney High +Street, "to see that no one don't pinch 'Earty's veges."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Bindle stood in front of Mr. Hearty's new +shop, aided in his scrutiny by two women and three boys.</p> + +<p>"There ain't no denying the fact," murmured Bindle to himself, +"that 'Earty do do the thing in style. If only 'is 'eart +wasn't wot it is, an' if 'is face was wot it might be, 'e'd make +a damn fine brother-in-law."</p> + +<p>At that moment Mr. Hearty appeared at the door of the shop, +bowing out a lady-customer, obviously someone of importance +to judge by the obsequious manner in which he rubbed his hands +and bent his head.</p> + +<p>"Cheer-o! 'Earty!" cried Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty started and looked round. The three errand boys +and the two women looked round also and fixed their gaze on +Bindle. Mr. Hearty devoted himself more assiduously to his +customer, pretending not to have heard.</p> + +<p>"I'll run in about six, 'Earty, and 'ave a look round," +continued Bindle. "I'm on dooty till then. I'll see they don't +pinch your stock," and he walked slowly down the High Street<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +in the direction of the bridge, followed by the grins and gazes +of the errand boys.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty's new shop was, without doubt, the best of the +three. A study in green paint and brass-work, it was capable of +holding its own with the best shops in the West End. In the +window was a magnificent array of fruits. Outside were the +vegetables. Everything was ticketed in plain figures, figures that +were the envy and despair of other Putney greengrocers.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Hearty's hour.</p> + +<p>As Bindle promenaded the High Street, his manner was one +of expectancy. Twice he looked at his watch and, when walking +in the direction of Putney Hill, he would turn and cast backward +glances along the High Street. During his second perambulation +he encountered Mrs. Bindle hurrying in the direction of +Mr. Hearty's new shop. He accorded her a salute that would +have warmed the heart of a Chief Commissioner of the Police.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Mr. Hearty was gazing lovingly at the curved +double brass-rail that adorned his window, looking like a harvest +festival decoration. Mr. Hearty believed in appearances. He +would buy persimmons, li-chis, bread-fruit, and custard-apples, +not because he thought he could sell them; but because they +gave tone to his shop. Those who had not heard of persimmons +and li-chis were impressed because Mr. Hearty was telling them +something they did not know; those who had heard of, possibly +eaten, them were equally impressed, because he was reminding +them of Regent Street and Piccadilly. As Bindle phrased it, +Mr. Hearty was "a damn good greengrocer."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty was interrupted in his contemplation of the fruity +splendour of his genius by the entry of a customer, at least +something had come between him and the light of the sun.</p> + +<p>He turned, started violently and stared. Then he blinked his +eyes and stared again. A man had entered wearing a silk-faced +frock-coat of dubious fit and doubtful age, a turn-down collar, a +white tie and trousers that concertinaed over large ill-shaped +boots. On his head was a black felt hat, semi-clerical in type, +insured against any sudden vagary of the wind by a hat-guard.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty gazed at the man, his eyes dilated in astonishment. +He stared at the stranger's sunken, sallow cheeks, at his heavy +moustache, at his mutton-chop whiskers. The man was his +double: features, expression, clothes; all were the same.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo! 'Earty! Put me down for a cokernut an' an onion."</p> + +<p>Bindle, who had entered at that moment, dug the stranger in +the ribs from behind. He turned round upon his assailant, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +Bindle saw Mr. Hearty standing in the shadow. He looked from +him to the stranger and back again with grave intentness. Both +men regarded Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty at length in his +toneless voice, that always seemed to come from somewhere in +the woolly distance.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Joseph," said the stranger in a voice that +was a very clever imitation of that of Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>Bindle fumbled in the breast-pocket of his tunic and produced +a box of matches. Going up to Mr. Hearty he struck a match. +Mr. Hearty started back as if doubtful of his intentions. Bindle +proceeded to examine Mr. Hearty's features by the flickering light +of the match, then turning to the stranger, he went through the +same performance with him. Finally pushing his cap back he +scratched his head in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm damned!" he ejaculated. "Two 'Earty's."</p> + +<p>"I want a cauliflower, please." It was the stranger who spoke.</p> + +<p>Bindle once more proceeded to regard the stranger critically.</p> + +<p>"I s'pose you're what they call an alibi," he remarked.</p> + +<p>The stranger had no time to reply, as at that moment another +man entered. In garb and appearance he was a replica of the +first. Mr. Hearty looked as a man might who, without previous +experience of alcohol, has just drunk a whole bottle of whisky.</p> + +<p>Bindle whistled, grinned, then he smacked his leg vigorously.</p> + +<p>"My cauliflower, please," said the first man.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Joseph," said the new arrival. The voice +was not so good an imitation.</p> + +<p>At that moment Smith, Mr. Hearty's right-hand man, thrust +his head through the flap in the floor of the shop that gave access +to the potato-cellar. He caught sight of the trinity of masters. +He gave one frightened glance, ducked his head, and let the flap +down with a bang just as a third "Mr. Hearty" entered. He +was followed almost immediately by a fourth and fifth. Each +greeted Bindle with a "Good-afternoon, Joseph."</p> + +<p>Just as the sixth Mr. Hearty entered, Smith pushed up the +flap again, this time a few inches only, and with dilated eyes +looked out. The sight of seven "masters," as he afterwards +confessed to Billy Nips, the errand boy, "shook 'im up crool." +Keeping his eyes fixed warily upon the group of men, each +demanding a cauliflower, Smith slowly drew himself up and out, +letting the cellar-flap down with a bang as he slipped to the +back of the shop away from the group. Was he drunk, or only +dreaming?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I woke up with one brother-in-law, an' now I got seven," +cried Bindle as he walked over and opened the glass-door, with +white lace curtains tied back with blue ribbon, at the back of the +shop.</p> + +<p>"Martha," he shouted, "Martha, you're wanted!"</p> + +<p>An indistinct sound was heard and a minute later Mrs. Hearty +appeared, enormously fat and wheezing painfully.</p> + +<p>"That you, Joe?" she panted as she struck her ample bosom +with clenched hand. "My breath! it's that bad to-day." For +a moment she stood blinking in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"See 'em, Martha?" ejaculated Bindle, pointing to Mr. Hearty +and the "alibis." "Seven of 'em. You're a bigamist, sure as +eggs, Martha, an' Millie ain't never goin' to be an orphan."</p> + +<p>As she became accustomed to the glare of the sunlight, Mrs. +Hearty looked in a dazed way at the group of "husbands," +all gazing in her direction. Then she suddenly began to shake +and wheeze. It took very little to make Mrs. Hearty laugh, +sometimes nothing at all. Now she sat down suddenly on a sack +of potatoes and heaved and shook with silent laughter.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Mr. Hearty became galvanised into action.</p> + +<p>"How—how dare you!" he fumed. "Get out of my shop, +confound you!"</p> + +<p>"'Earty, 'Earty!" protested Bindle, "fancy you a-usin' language +like that. I'm surprised at you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked about him like a caged animal, then suddenly +he turned to Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Joseph," he cried, "I give these men in charge."</p> + +<p>The men regarded Mr. Hearty with melancholy unconcern.</p> + +<p>"Give 'em in charge!" repeated Bindle in surprise. "Wot for?"</p> + +<p>"They're—they're like me," stammered Mr. Hearty in a rage +that, with a man of more robust nature, must have found vent +in physical violence.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle judicially, "I can't run a cove in for +bein' like you, 'Earty. Although," he added as an afterthought, +"'e ought to be in quod."</p> + +<p>"It's a scandal," stuttered Mr. Hearty, "it's a—a——" He +broke off, words were mild things to express his state of indignation. +Turning to Bindle he cried, "Joseph, turn them out of my +shop, in—in the name of the Law," he added melodramatically.</p> + +<p>"You 'ear, sonnies?" remarked Bindle, turning to the passive +six. "'Op it, although," he added meditatively as he eyed the +six duplicates, "wot I'm to do with you if you won't go, only +'Eaven knows, an' 'Eaven don't confide in me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>The six figures themselves settled Bindle's problem by marching +solemnly out of the shop, each with a "Good afternoon, Joseph."</p> + +<p>"Joseph, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Mr. Hearty, +turning to Bindle as the last black-coated figure left the shop. +"What is the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p>"You may search me, 'Earty," replied Bindle. "I should 'ave +called 'em twins, if there 'adn't been so many. Sort o' litter, +wasn't it? 'Ope they're all respectable, or there'll be trouble +for you, 'Earty. You'd better wear a bit o' ribbon round your +arm, so's we shall know you."</p> + +<p>"Bindle, you're at the bottom of this." Mrs. Bindle had come +out of the back-parlour, just as the duplicates were leaving. She +regarded her husband with a suspicion that amounted to certainty.</p> + +<p>"Me?" queried Bindle innocently; "me at the bottom of wot?"</p> + +<p>"You know something about these men. It's a shame, and +this Mr. Hearty's first day. Look how it's upset him."</p> + +<p>"Now 'ow d'you think I could make six alibis like them——" +Bindle's defence was interrupted by the sound of music.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed, "if it ain't them alibis."</p> + +<p>The "doubles" had all produced tin whistles, which they were +playing as they marched slowly up and down in front of Mr. +Hearty's premises. Five seemed to have selected each his own +hymn without consultation with his fellows; the sixth, probably +a secularist, had fallen back upon "The Men of Harlech."</p> + +<p>A crowd was already gathering.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked about him like a hunted rat, he rushed +to the shop door, desperation in his eyes, violence in his mind. +Before he had an opportunity of coming to a decision as to his +course of action, a new situation arose, that distracted his thoughts +from the unspeakable "alibis."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE GATHERING OF THE BANDS</h3> + + +<p>From the direction of Putney Bridge a large crowd was approaching. People +were leaning over the sides of omnibuses, staring out of the windows of +trams, boys were whistling and exchanging comments, the purport of which Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +Hearty could not quite catch. In this new excitement he forgot the +"alibis," who gradually became absorbed in the growing throng that +collected outside the shop.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty gazed at the approaching multitude, misgiving in +his soul. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a pineapple +walking in the midst of the crowd, next he saw a carrot, then an +orange. He turned away, blinked his eyes and looked again. +This time he saw, moving in his direction, an enormous bean, +followed by a potato. Yes, there was no doubt about it, fruit +and vegetables were walking up Putney High Street!</p> + +<p>As they came nearer he saw that each vegetable was leading +a donkey, on whose back were two boards, meeting at the top, +thus forming a triangle, the base of which was strapped to the +animal's back. People were pointing to the boards and laughing. +Mr. Hearty could not see what was written on them.</p> + +<p>The sensation was terrific. A group of small boys who had run +on ahead took up a position near the door of Mr. Hearty's shop.</p> + +<p>"That's 'im," cried one, "that's Napoleon."</p> + +<p>"No, it ain't," said another, "that's Caesar."</p> + +<p>Mechanically Mr. Hearty waved the boys away. They +repeated words that to him were meaningless, and then pointed +to the approaching crowd. Mr. Hearty was puzzled and alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Look! guv'nor, there they are," shouted one of the boys.</p> + +<p>Instinctively Mr. Hearty looked. At first he beheld only the +donkeys, the animated fruit and the approaching crowd, then +he suddenly saw his own name. A motor omnibus intervened. +A moment later the donkeys and their boards came into full view. +Mr. Hearty gasped.</p> + +<p>On their boards were ingenious exhortations to the public to +support the enterprise of Alfred Hearty, greengrocer, of Putney, +Fulham and Wandsworth. Mr. Hearty read as one in a dream:</p> + +<p style='text-align:center'> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Hearty<br /> +The Napoleon of Greengrocers</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Hearty<br /> +The Caesar of Fruiterers</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Hearty<br /> +The Prince of Potato Merchants</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hearty's Two-Shilling Pineapple<br /> +Try it in Your Bath</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hearty's Jerusalem Artichokes<br /> +General Allenby Eats Them</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Germans Fight For<br /> +Hearty's Brussels Sprouts</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>As the six animals filed past, Mr. Hearty was conscious that +hundreds of eyes were gazing in his direction. He read one sign +after another as if hypnotised, then he read them again. Scarcely +had the animals passed him, when the pineapple swung round +leading his donkey, the others immediately followed. As they +came back on the other side of the way, that nearest to Mr. +Hearty, he had the benefit of reading further details about the +wonderful properties of the fruit and vegetables he retailed. The +second set of exhortations to the housewives of Putney ran:</p> + +<p style='text-align:center'> +<span class="smcap">Eat Hearty's Filberts, Oh! Gilbert,<br /> +The Nut<br /> +Nut-Crackers With Every Bag</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hearty's French Beans<br /> +Saved Verdun</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Try Hearty's Juicy Cabbages<br /> +They Cure Baldness</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Food Controller Recommends Carrots<br /> +Try Hearty's—I Have</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Hearty<br /> +Known As Pineapple Alf</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">If You Don't Buy Your Vegetables<br /> +From Alfred Hearty<br /> +You Will Be What I Am</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The last-named was particularly appreciated, everybody being +able to see the joke and, thinking that no one else had been so +clever, each took infinite pains to point it out to his neighbour.</p> + +<p>At first Mr. Hearty went very white, then, realising that the +crowd was laughing at him, and that he was being rendered +ridiculous, he flushed crimson,—turning round he walked into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +the shop. There was a feeling in his throat and eyes that +reminded him of what he had felt as a child after a storm of +crying. His brain seemed deadened. From out the general hum +he heard a boy's shrill voice enquiring the whereabouts of his +mate, and the mate's reply was heard in the distance.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a new sensation dwarfed that of the donkeys.</p> + +<p>"Here's another! here's another!" yelled a shrill voice.</p> + +<p>The crowd looked up the High Street towards the bridge. With +stately lope a camel was pursuing its majestic way. On its back +was an enormous water-melon, through which appeared the head +of the driver shaded by leaves, a double stalk concealing his legs.</p> + +<p>From the shelter of the double brass-rail Mr. Hearty watched +the camel as if fascinated. The donkeys had come to a standstill +outside the shop. Behind him stood Mrs. Bindle and Smith, the +one very grim, the other grinning expansively, whilst from the +gloom behind, Mrs. Hearty was heard wheezing and demanding +what it was all about.</p> + +<p>With stately and indifferent tread the camel approached, with +head poised rather like a snake about to strike. Slung over its +back on each side were notices. The one Mr. Hearty first saw +read:</p> + +<p style='text-align:center'> +<span class="smcap">I've Got the Hump<br /> +Through Not Buying Hearty's Vegetables</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>As the beast swung round, the other motto presented itself:</p> + +<p style='text-align:center'> +<span class="smcap">Eat Hearty's Leeks<br /> +They Defy the Plumber</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Cheers, cat-calls, loud whistlings and the talk of an eager, +excited Saturday-afternoon crowd formed a background to the +picture.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" muttered Bindle, who had read the +notices with keen relish. "Well, I'm blowed! They done it +in style."</p> + +<p>The excitement was at its height when the steady pounding of +a drum was heard in the distance. As it drew nearer, the attention +of the crowd was attracted from the donkeys and the camel. +Putney was in luck, and it looked gratefully in the direction of +where Mr. Hearty stood, a shadowy form behind his double +brass-rail.</p> + +<p>Bindle recognised the tune the band was playing as that of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +Mr. Hearty's favourite hymn, "Pull for the Shore, Sailor." As +the band entered the High Street, another was heard in the +opposite direction.</p> + +<p>Bindle turned into the shop and walked up to his brother-in-law, +who still stood staring at the strange and curious beasts +that were advertising his wares.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, 'Earty," he said, in his most official manner, "this +may be all very well in the way of business; but you're blocking +the 'ole bloomin' 'Igh Street."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty gazed at Bindle with unseeing eyes.</p> + +<p>"These bands yours, too, 'Earty?" Bindle enquired.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty shook his head in hopeless negation. Nothing was his, not +even the power to move and rout this scandalous, zoological-botanical +exhibition.</p> + +<p>"Well, wot are they a-playin' 'ymns for?" demanded Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Hymns?" enquired Mr. Hearty in a toneless voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, can't you 'ear 'em?" Bindle gazed at his brother-in-law +curiously. "Enough to blow your 'ead orf."</p> + +<p>The first band was now blaring out its "Pull for the Shore, +Sailor," with full force. At its head walked a man carrying a +representation of a cabbage, on which was painted:</p> + +<p style='text-align:center'> +<span class="smcap">Hearty For Cabbages</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The bandsmen wore strangely nondescript clothes. With one +exception they all seemed to possess the uniform cap, that exception +was a man in khaki. Four of them had caps without tunics. +Only one had the full regulation uniform; but he was wearing +odd boots. The bandmaster, in a braided frock-coat, which +reached well below his knees, was spasmodically putting in bits +on a cornet; he was short of stature with a constricted wind, and +the pace was fast.</p> + +<p>The second band approached, the man at its head bearing a +carrot with a similar legend as that of the rival concern; but +in relation to carrots. "Onward, Christian Soldiers" was its +melody. The noise became diabolical. The second band had +uniform caps only, and two of its members had taken off their +coats and hung them over their shoulders. It was a hot and +tiring day.</p> + +<p>At the moment when the second band was within a hundred +yards of the shop, the camel raised its head and gave vent to its +terrifying roar, a rather indifferent attempt to imitate that of a +lion.</p> + +<p>The "Onward, Christian Soldiers" band was the first to reach<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +the shop, having a shorter distance to traverse. Its leader was +a tall man with a weary face, and a still more weary moustache. +His waistcoat was unbuttoned, and his face dripping with perspiration +as he blew out what brains he possessed upon a silver cornet. He +marched straight up to the door of the shop, blowing vigorously. +Suddenly a double beat of the drum gave the signal to stop. Taking off +his cap, with the back of his hand he wiped the sweat from his brow. +Pushing past Mr. Hearty he entered, a moment after followed by his +eleven confrères.</p> + +<p>For a moment Mr. Hearty stared, then he retreated backwards +before the avalanche of musicians.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he demanded feebly.</p> + +<p>"This the way upstairs, guv'nor?" enquired the tall man.</p> + +<p>"Upstairs?" interrogated Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Yus, upstairs, like me to say it again?" queried the man +who was tired and short-tempered.</p> + +<p>"But, what——?" began Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, go an' roast yourself!" responded the man. "Come +along, boys," and they tramped through the back-parlour. Mr. +Hearty heard them pounding up the stairs.</p> + +<p>The drum, however, refused to go through the narrow door. +The drummer tried it at every conceivable angle. At last he +recognised that he had met his Waterloo.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Charlie!" he yelled.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo! That you, Ted?" came the reply from above.</p> + +<p>"Ruddy drum's stuck," yelled the drummer, equally hot +and exasperated.</p> + +<p>"Woooot?" bawled Charlie.</p> + +<p>"Ruddy drum won't go up," cried Ted.</p> + +<p>"All right, you stay down there, you can 'ear us and keep +time," was the response.</p> + +<p>The drummer subsided on to a sack of potatoes. Mr. Hearty +approached him.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here? You're not my band," he said, +eyeing the man apprehensively.</p> + +<p>The drummer looked up with the insolence of a man who +sees before him indecision.</p> + +<p>"Who the blinkin' buttercups said we was?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"But what are you doing here?" persisted Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" responded the man with elaborate civility, "we come +to play forfeits, wot jer think?"</p> + +<p>At that moment from the room above the shop the band broke +into full blast with "Shall We Gather at the River." The drum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>mer +made a grab at his sticks, but was late, and for the rest of +the piece, was a beat behind in all his bangs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked helplessly about him. Another cheer from +without caused him to walk to the door. Outside, the "Pull for +the Shore, Sailor," faction was performing valiantly. Their +blood was up, and they were determined that no one should +gather at the river if they could prevent it.</p> + +<p>In the distance several more bands were heard, and the pounding became +terrific. All traffic had been stopped, and an inspector of police was +pushing his way through the crowd in the direction of Mr. Hearty. +Bindle joined the inspector, saluting him elaborately.</p> + +<p>The inspector eyed Mr. Hearty with official disapproval.</p> + +<p>"You must send these men away, sir," he said with decision.</p> + +<p>"But—but," said Mr. Hearty, "I can't."</p> + +<p>"But you must," said the inspector. "There will be a summons, +of course," he added warningly.</p> + +<p>"But—why?" protested Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>The inspector looked at Mr. Hearty, and then gazed up and +down Putney High Street. He was annoyed.</p> + +<p>"You have blocked the whole place, sir. We've had to stop the trams +coming round the Putney Bridge Road. Hi!" he shouted to the drummer +who was conscientiously earning his salary.</p> + +<p>"Stop that confounded row there!"</p> + +<p>The man did not hear.</p> + +<p>"Stop it, I say!" shouted the inspector.</p> + +<p>The drummer stopped.</p> + +<p>"Wot's the matter?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"You're causing an obstruction," said the inspector warningly.</p> + +<p>"Ted!" yelled the voice of the leader at the top of the house, +who was gathering at the river upon the cornet in a fine frenzy, +"wot the 'ell are you stoppin' for?"</p> + +<p>"It's the pleece," yelled back Ted informatively.</p> + +<p>"The cheese?" bawled back Charlie. "Shouldn't eat it; it +always makes you ill. Go ahead and bang that ruddy drum."</p> + +<p>"Can't," yelled Ted. "They'll run me in."</p> + +<p>The leader was evidently determined not to bandy words with +his subordinate. He could be heard pounding down the stairs +two at a time, still doing his utmost to interpret the pleasures +awaiting Putney in the hereafter. The cornet could be heard +approaching nearer and nearer becoming brassier and brassier. +The leader was a note behind the rest by the time he had got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +to the bottom of the stairs. Arrived in the shop he stopped +suddenly at the sight of the inspector.</p> + +<p>"Tell them to stop that infernal row," ordered the officer.</p> + +<p>He, who had been addressed as Charlie, looked from Mr. +Hearty to the inspector.</p> + +<p>"There ain't no law that can stop me," he said with decision, "I'm on +the enclosed premises. Go ahead, Ted," he commanded, turning to the +drummer, "take it out of 'er," and, resuming his cornet, Charlie +picked up the tune and raced up the stairs again, leaving Ted "taking +it out of 'er" in a way that more than made up for the time he had +lost.</p> + +<p>The inspector bit his lip. Turning to Mr. Hearty he said, "You will be +charged with causing obstruction with all this tomfoolery."</p> + +<p>"But—but—it isn't mine," protested Mr. Hearty weakly. "I +know nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said the inspector. "Look at those animals out +there."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked, and then looked back at the inspector, who said +something; but Mr. Hearty could only see the movement of his lips. The +babel became almost incredible. Three more bands had arrived, making +five altogether, and there was a sound in the distance that indicated +the approach of others. For the first time in his life Ted was +experiencing the sweets of being able legally to defy the law, and he +was enjoying to the full a novel experience.</p> + +<p>At that moment Mrs. Bindle pushed her way into the shop. +She had been out to get a better view of what was taking place. +She stopped and stared from Mr. Hearty to the inspector, and +then back to Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know what it means," he stammered, feeling that +something was required of him; but no one heard him.</p> + +<p>Bindle, who had hitherto been quiet in the presence of his +superior officer, now took a hand in matters.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>"Look 'ere, 'Earty," he shouted during a lull in the proceedings, +"advertisement's advertisement, an' very nice too, but this 'ere is +obstruction. Ain't that right, sir?" he said, addressing the +inspector; but the inspector did not hear him, it is doubtful if Mr. +Hearty heard, for at that moment there had turned into the High Street +from Wandsworth Bridge Road a double-drummed band playing something +with a slight resemblance to "Gospel Bells," a melody that gives a +wonderful opportunity for the trombones.</p> + +<p>There were now one band upstairs and five in the High +Street, as near to the shop as they could cluster, and a +seventh approaching. All were striving to interpret Moody +and Sankey as Moody and Sankey had never been interpreted +before.</p> + +<p>The inspector walked out on to the pavement, and vainly +strove to signal to two of his men whose helmets could be seen +among the crowd.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty's eyes followed the officer, but he soon became absorbed in +other things. From the Wimbledon end of the High Street he saw bobbing +about in the crowd a number of brilliant green caps with yellow braid +upon them. The glint of brass in their neighbourhood forewarned him +that another band was approaching. From the bobbing movement of the +caps, it was obvious that the men were fighting their way in the +direction of his, Mr. Hearty's shop.</p> + +<p>Glancing in the other direction, Mr. Hearty saw a second +stream of dark green and red caps, likewise making for him. +When the leader of the green and yellow caps, a good-natured +little man carrying a cornet, burst through the crowd, it was +like spring breaking in upon winter. The brilliant green tunic +with its yellow braid was dazzling in the sunlight, and Mr. +Hearty blinked his eyes several times.</p> + +<p>"'Ot day, sir," said the little man genially as he took off +his cap and, with the edge of his forefinger, removed the sweat +from his brow, giving it a flick that sent some of the moisture +on to Mr. Hearty, causing him to start back suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, sir," said the man apologetically. "Afraid I splashed you. I +suppose we go right through and up. Come along, Razor," he yelled to +the last of his bandsmen, a thin, weedy youth, who was still vainly +endeavouring to cut his way through the crowd.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the little man saw the first drummer banging away +vigorously.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, got another little lot inside! You don't 'alf know +'ow to advertise, mister," he said admiringly.</p> + +<p>This reminded Mr. Hearty that he possessed a voice.</p> + +<p>"There is some mistake. I have not ordered any band," he +shouted in the little man's ear.</p> + +<p>"Wot?" shouted the little man.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty repeated his assurance.</p> + +<p>"Not ordered any band. Seem to 'ave ordered all the bands +in London, as far as I can see," he remarked, looking at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +rival concerns. "Sort of Crystal Palace affair. You ordered +us, any'ow," he added.</p> + +<p>"But I didn't," persisted Mr. Hearty. "This is all a mistake."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ring orf!" said the leader. "People don't pay in advance +for what they don't want. Come along, boys," he cried and, +pushing his way along the shop, he passed through the parlour +door and was heard thumping upstairs.</p> + +<p>"You can't get through," shouted Ted to the second drummer, +a mournful-looking man with black whiskers.</p> + +<p>"Wot?" he bawled dully.</p> + +<p>"Can't get through," yelled Ted.</p> + +<p>"Why?" roared the whiskered man.</p> + +<p>"Ruddy drum won't go up," shouted Ted.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the second drummer and, without testing the +accuracy of Ted's words, he seated himself upon a barrel of +apples, his drum still in position.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of loud altercations from above. After a +minute they subsided, and the volume of tone increased, showing +that Charlie had found expression in his cornet.</p> + +<p>"Where's Striker?" came the cry.</p> + +<p>"Strikeeeeeeeer!" yelled several voices.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo!" howled Striker in a muffled voice.</p> + +<p>"We're all ready. Wot the 'ell are you doin', Striker?" came +the response.</p> + +<p>"Drum won't come up," bawled Striker.</p> + +<p>"Wot?"</p> + +<p>"Drum won't come up, too big."</p> + +<p>"Right-o! you can pick us up," came the leader's reply.</p> + +<p>A moment later "Onward, Christian Soldiers," broke out in +brassy rivalry to "Shall We Gather at the River."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle fled into the parlour.</p> + +<p>It is obvious that whatever phenomenon eternity may have +to discover to man, it will not be Christian soldiers gathering at +the river. The noise was stupendous. The stream of brassy +discord that descended from above was equalled only by the +pounding of the two drums that rose from below.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>Ted had made some reflections upon the whiskers of the second drummer, +with the result that, forgetting their respective bands, they were now +engaged in a personal contest, thumping and pounding against each +other with both sticks. The sweat poured down their faces, and their +mouths were working, each expressing opinions, which, however, the +other could not hear. At that moment the dark green caps with red +braid began to trickle into the shop.</p> + +<p>Bindle, who had been a delighted spectator of the arrival of +band after band, suggested to the leader of the eighth band in a +roar that just penetrated to the drum of his ear, "'Adn't you +better start 'ere, there ain't no room upstairs?"</p> + +<p>The man gave a comprehensive look round, then by signs +indicated to his men that they were to start then and there. They +promptly broke out into "The Last Noel." Bindle ran from +the shop, his fingers in his ears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my Gawd! they'll bring the 'ole bloomin' 'ouse down," +he muttered. "I 'ope they don't play 'ymns in 'eaven—them +drums!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty, who had been pushed into a corner behind an +apple barrel, stood and gazed about him. There was a dazed +look in his eyes, as of one who does not comprehend what is +taking place. He looked as if at any moment he might become +a jibbering lunatic.</p> + +<p>A wild cheer from the crowd attracted his attention. He looked out. +Pushing their way towards the shop was a number of vegetables: a +carrot, a turnip, a cabbage, a tomato, a cucumber, a potato, a marrow, +to name only a few. Each seemed to be on legs and was playing an +instrument of some description.</p> + +<p>Was he mad? Could that really be a melon playing the drum? +Did bananas play cornets? Could cucumbers draw music from +piccolos? Mr. Hearty blinked his eyes. Here indeed was a +dream, a nightmare. He saw Bindle with an inspector and a +constable turn the vegetables back, obviously denying them +admission. He watched as one who has no personal interest +in the affair. He saw the inspector enter with three constables, +he saw the green and red band ejected, Ted and the whiskered +man silenced, Charlie and the short genial man brought down +protesting from upstairs.</p> + +<p>He saw the inspector's busy pencil fly from side to side of +his notebook, he saw Bindle grinning cheerfully as he exchanged +remarks with the bandsmen, he saw what looked like a never-ending +procession of bandsmen stream past him.</p> + +<p>He saw everything, he believed nothing. Perhaps it was brain fever. He +had worked very hard over his new shop. If he were to die, Smith could +never carry on the three businesses. What would become of them? He +further knew that his afternoon trade was ruined, that he would +probably be summoned for something that he had not done, and tears +came to his eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>In Mr. Hearty's soul was nothing of the patience and long-suffering of +the martyr. Behind him, above him and in front of him he still seemed +to hear the indescribable blare of brass. Outside were the cheers of +the crowd and the vain endeavours of the police to grapple with the +enormous problem that had been set them. What could it all mean?</p> + +<p>In the kitchen behind the parlour sat Mrs. Hearty wheezing painfully. +Opposite to her stood Mrs. Bindle, tight-lipped and grim.</p> + +<p>"That Bindle's done this," she muttered to herself. "It'll kill Mr. +Hearty."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>MR. GUPPERDUCK'S MISHAP</h3> + + +<p>"I've been out all day waiting in queues," remarked Mrs. +Bindle complainingly, "and all I got was two candles and +a quarter of a pound of marjarine."</p> + +<p>"An' which are we goin' to 'ave for breakfast to-morrow?" +enquired Bindle cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a lot you care!" retorted Mrs. Bindle, "coming home +regular to your meals and expecting them to be ready, and then +sitting down and eating. A lot you care!" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"Wot jer want to take a lodger for," demanded Bindle, "if +you can't get food enough for you an' me?"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't his money help us pay our way?" demanded Mrs. +Bindle.</p> + +<p>"But wot's the good of 'avin' more money, Mrs. B., if you +can't get enough food to go round?"</p> + +<p>"That's right, go on!" stormed Mrs. Bindle. "A lot of +sympathy I get from you, a lot you care about me walking +myself off my feet, so long as your stomach's full."</p> + +<p>Bindle scratched his head in perplexity, but forbore to retort; +instead he hummed Mrs. Bindle's favourite hymn "Gospel Bells."</p> + +<p>"Look what you done to Mr. Hearty, that Saturday," cried +Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Me!" said Bindle, cursing himself for reminding her by +humming the hymn.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you!" was the reply. "He had to go to the police-court."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, it's made 'is fortune, an' 'e got orf," replied Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it might have ruined him. You wouldn't have +cared, and in war-time too," Mrs. Bindle added.</p> + +<p>"Well, well! the war'll be over some day," said Bindle cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"That's what you always say. Why don't they make peace?" +demanded Mrs. Bindle, as if Bindle himself were the sole obstacle +to the tranquillisation of the world. Mrs. Bindle sat down with +a decisiveness that characterised all her movements.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I wish I was dead," she remarked. "There's +nothin' but inching and pinching and slaving my fingers to the +bone trying to make a shilling go further than it will, and yet +they won't make peace."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle, "you best keep to cookin', you're +a dab at that, and leave politics to them wot understands 'em. +You can't catch a mad dog by puttin' salt on 'is tail. I wonder +where ole Guppy is," he continued, glancing at the kitchen clock, +which pointed to half-past nine. "It ain't often 'e lets praying +get in the way of 'is meals."</p> + +<p>"I hope nothing has happened to him," remarked Mrs. Bindle +a little anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No fear o' that," replied Bindle regretfully. "Things don't +'appen to men like Gupperduck; still it's funny 'im missin' a +meal," he added.</p> + +<p>At a quarter to ten Mrs. Bindle reluctantly acquiesced in +Bindle's demand for supper. She was clearly anxious, listening +intently for the familiar sound of Mr. Gupperduck's key in the +outer door.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what could have happened?" she said as the +clock indicated a quarter past ten and she rose to clear away.</p> + +<p>"P'raps 'e's been took up to 'eaven like that cove wot 'Earty +was talkin' about the other night," suggested Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle's sniff intimated that she considered such a remark +unworthy of her attention.</p> + +<p>"Ah! King Richard is 'isself again!" remarked Bindle, pushing +his plate from him, throwing himself back in his chair, and +proceeding to fill his pipe, indifferent as to what happened to +the lodger.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle busied herself in putting Mr. Gupperduck's supper +in the oven to keep warm.</p> + +<p>"Funny sort of job for a man to take up," remarked Bindle +conversationally, as he lighted his pipe, "preaching at people +wot only laughs back."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! you think so, do you!" snapped Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I was listenin' to 'em one afternoon in Regent's Park," +remarked Bindle. "Silly sort o' lot they seemed to me."</p> + +<p>"You're nothing but a heathen yourself," accused Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"As long as a cove keeps 'is religion to 'imself, I don't see it +matters to nobody wot 'e thinks, any more than whether 'e wears +blue or pink pants under his trousers."</p> + +<p>"Don't be disgusing, Bindle," snapped Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Disgustin'! what's disgustin'?"</p> + +<p>"Talking of what you talked of," replied Mrs. Bindle with +asperity.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bindle. "There you 'angs 'em on +the line on Mondays for everybody to see, and yet you mustn't +talk about 'em; well, I'm blowed!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"What do they say in the park?" questioned Mrs. Bindle +curiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh! they says a lot o' things," replied Bindle. "Personally +myself I think the atheists is the funniest. There was one cove +there wot was very thin, and very anxious-looking. Said 'e +wouldn't insult 'is intelligence by believin' the things wot +preachers said, so I put a question to 'im."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" enquired Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I asks 'im if 'e was quite sure 'e 'ad any intelligence to insult, +an' that made 'em laugh."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle nodded her head in approval.</p> + +<p>Bindle regarded her in wide-eyed amazement. Never before +in the whole of his experience had he known her approve word +or action of his.</p> + +<p>"Did he say anything else?" queried Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"No; 'e soon got down, an' another cove got up. Then they +started a Christian meeting next door, and there was them two +lots of people shouting all sorts of things at each other. Wot +Gawd must 'ave thought of it all does me. Why can't they stay +at home and pray if they feel as bad as all that. A day a month +at 'ome to blow orf, instead of goin' into Regent's Park, a-kicking +up a row so as you can't 'ear the birds sing, makes you feel +ashamed o' bein' a man, it does. One chap got up and said +he was goin' to prove there wasn't no Gawd."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?" asked Mrs. Bindle with interest.</p> + +<p>"All 'e could say was, that 'im and 'is friends 'ad searched +everywhere through wot they called the whole physical world, an' they +'adn't found 'Im, therefore there wasn't no Gawd."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They didn't ought to allow it," commented Mrs. Bindle indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Then another cove got up and said 'e 'oped that 'is friend, +wot 'ad just got down, 'ad proved to the whole Park that there +wasn't no Gawd, and if there was any thinkin' different would +they 'old up their 'ands."</p> + +<p>"Did anybody hold up their hands?" asked Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Yes, up went my little 'and like a whiz-bang," announced +Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle gave Bindle a look that she usually reserved for +Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"'Well, sir!' says 'e, lookin' at me, 'wot is your question?'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' says I, 'will you and your pals come round with +me to-morrow morning an' try and enlist?' There was a rare +lot of khaki boys round there, and didn't they raise a yell. That +was the end of that meeting. Every time anyone tried to get up +an' speak, them khaki boys started a-'ootin' and a-callin' out, +and 'avin' of a rare ole time. There was one cove wot made us +laugh fit to die. Every time one o' the atheists started talkin', +'e said in a 'igh-pitched voice, 'Oh, Cuthbert, don't!' as if it +was a gal wot was being squeezed."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle had listened to Bindle with the nearest approach +to approval that she had ever shown.</p> + +<p>"There was another cove there," continued Bindle, warming +to his subject. "Funny little feller 'e was too, all cap an' overcoat, +talking about the Judgment Day. Awful things 'e promised +us, 'e did. Made out as if Gawd was worse than an 'Un. 'E +said 'e'd be standin' beside Gawd when all the people was +judged, and 'e'd tell 'Im 'ow 'e'd been in Regent's Park a-warnin' +people wot was goin' to 'appen, and no one wouldn't take no +notice. Then we was all goin' to be sent into a sort of mixed-grill +and burnt for ever. Nice comforting little cove 'e was; +pleasant to live with," added Bindle drily.</p> + +<p>"Why religion can't make you 'appy without you a-tryin' to +make other people un'appy is wot does me. When I got a good +cigar I don't go waving it in the face of every cove I meets, +saying, 'Ah! you ain't got a cigar like this, you only got a +woodbine.' Don't seem good-natured, it don't."</p> + +<p>"We've got to save souls," remarked Mrs. Bindle with grim +decision.</p> + +<p>"But didn't a man ought to be good because he wants to +be good, and not because 'e's afraid of being bad?" demanded +Bindle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle pondered over this remark for a moment; but +finding it too deep for her replied, "You always was a doubter, +Bindle; I'd have been a happier woman if you hadn't been."</p> + +<p>"But," continued Bindle, "do you think Gawd wants to 'ave +a man in chapel wot wants to be at the Empire, only doesn't +go because 'e's afraid? I wouldn't if I was Gawd," he added, +shaking his head with decision. "Look at 'Earty's 'orse on +Saturday nights. Can't 'ardly drag itself to the stables, it can't, +yet 'Earty's as sure of 'eaven as I am of you, Mrs. B."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle was silent, her manner was distraite, she was +listening for the sound of Mr. Gupperduck's return.</p> + +<p>"I'd give my sugar ration to know wot we're all a-goin' to do +in 'eaven," remarked Bindle meditatively. "Fancy 'Earty there! +Wot will 'e do? They won't let 'im sell vegetables, and they'll +soon stop 'im singing."</p> + +<p>"We shall all have our occupations," remarked Mrs. Bindle +oracularly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but wot?" demanded Bindle. "There ain't no furniture +to move an' no vegetables to sell. All I can do is to watch 'Earty, +an' see 'e don't go round pinchin' angels' meat-tickets."</p> + +<p>For once Mrs. Bindle allowed a remark to pass without the +inevitable accusation of blasphemy!</p> + +<p>"No," remarked Bindle, "if I dies an' they sends me up to +'eaven, I shall knock at the door, an' I shall say, 'Is 'Earty 'ere? +'Earty the Fulham and Putney greengrocer, you know.' If they +says 'Yes,' then it's a smoker for me;" and Bindle proceeded +to re-charge his pipe. "I often thought——"</p> + +<p>Bindle was interrupted by a loud knocking at the outer door. +With a swift movement Mrs. Bindle rose and passed out of the +kitchen. Bindle listened. There was a sound of men's voices +in the outer passage, with the short, sharper tones of Mrs. Bindle. +A moment later the door opened, and two men entered supporting +the limp form of Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"'Oly angels!" cried Bindle, starting up. "'Oly angels! +someone's been a-tryin' to alter 'im." He bent forward to get +a better view. "Done it pretty well, too," he muttered as he +gazed at the unprepossessing features of Mr. Gupperduck, now +accentuated by a black eye, a broken lip, a contusion on the +right cheek-bone, and one ear covered with blood. His collar +had disappeared, also his hat and spectacles, his waist-coat was +torn open, and various portions were missing from his coat.</p> + +<p>"Wot's 'e been doin'?" enquired Bindle of a weedy-looking +man with long hair, a sandy pointed beard, and a cloth cap,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +three sizes too large for him, which rested on the tops of his ears. +"Wot's 'e been up to?"</p> + +<p>"He's been addressing a meeting," replied the man in a mournful +voice.</p> + +<p>Bindle turned once more to Mr. Gupperduck and examined +him closely.</p> + +<p>"Looks as if the meetin's been addressin' 'im, don't it?" he +remarked.</p> + +<p>"It was not a very successful meeting," remarked the other +supporter of Mr. Gupperduck, a very little man with a very long +beard. "It wasn't a very successful meeting," he repeated with +conviction.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never seen a meetin' make such alterations in a man +in all my puff," remarked Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle had busied herself in preparing a basin of hot +water with which to wash the mud and blood from the victim's +pallid face. With closed eyes Mr. Gupperduck continued to +breathe heavily.</p> + +<p>Bindle with practical samaritanism went into the parlour and +returned with a half-quartern bottle. Pouring some of the contents +into a glass he held it to Mr. Gupperduck's lips. Without +the least resistance the liquid was swallowed.</p> + +<p>"Took that down pretty clean," said Bindle, looking up at +the man with the sandy beard.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that!" cried Mrs. Bindle, turning suddenly, her +nostrils detecting the smell of alcohol.</p> + +<p>"Do what?" enquired Bindle from where he knelt beside the +damaged Mr. Gupperduck.</p> + +<p>"Give him that," said Mrs. Bindle, "he's temperance."</p> + +<p>"Well, 'e ain't now," remarked Bindle with calm conviction.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you villain!" The vindictiveness of Mrs. Bindle's tone +caused the three listeners to look up, and even Mr. Gupperduck's +eyelids, after a preliminary flutter, raised themselves, as he +gazed about him wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" he moaned.</p> + +<p>"You're all right," said Mrs. Bindle, taking Bindle's place +by Mr. Gupperduck's side. "You're safe now."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck closed his eyes again, and Mrs. Bindle proceeded +to wipe his face with a piece of flannel dipped in water.</p> + +<p>"Pore ole Guppy!" murmured Bindle. "They done it in +style any'ow. I wonder wot 'e's been up to. Must 'ave been +sayin' things wot they didn't like. Wot was 'e talkin' about, +ole sport?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle turned to the man with the sandy beard, who was +sitting on a chair leaning forward with one hand on each knee, +much as if he were watching a cock-fight.</p> + +<p>"It was a Peace meeting," replied the man mournfully.</p> + +<p>Bindle gave vent to a prolonged whistle of understanding.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Guppy, Guppy!" he cried. "Why couldn't you 'ave +kept to the next world, without getting mixed up with this?"</p> + +<p>"It was wounded soldiers," volunteered the man with the +sandy beard.</p> + +<p>"Wounded soldiers!" exclaimed Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued the man mournfully; "he appealed to them, +as sufferers under this terrible armageddon, to pass a resolution +condemning the continuance of the war, and—and——"</p> + +<p>"They passed their resolution on 'is face," suggested Bindle.</p> + +<p>The man nodded. "It was terrible," he said, "terrible; we +were afraid they would kill him."</p> + +<p>"And where was you while all this was 'appenin'?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the man, "I was fortunate enough to find a tree."</p> + +<p>Bindle looked him up and down with elaborate intentness, +then having satisfied himself as to every detail of his appearance +and apparel, he remarked:</p> + +<p>"Ain't it wonderful wot luck some coves do 'ave!"</p> + +<p>"I regard it as the direct interposition of Providence," said +the man.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you shinned up that tree like giddy-o?" suggested +Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the man, "I was brought up in the country."</p> + +<p>"Was you now?" said Bindle. "Well, it was lucky for you, +wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"The hand of God," was the reply; "clearly the hand of God."</p> + +<p>"Sort o' boosted you up the tree from behind, so as when +they'd all gone you could come down and pick up wot was left +of 'im. That it?" enquired Bindle.</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what happened, my friend," replied the man +with the sandy beard.</p> + +<p>"An' where did all this 'appen?" asked Bindle.</p> + +<p>"It took place in Hyde Park," replied the man. "A very +rough meeting, an extremely rough meeting, and he was speaking +so well, so convincingly," he added.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at the man curiously to see if he were really +serious; but there was no vestige of a smile upon his face.</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful wot a man can do with a crowd," remarked +Bindle oracularly; "but," turning to the inert figure of Mr. Gup<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>perduck, +"it's still more wonderful wot a crowd can do with a man."</p> + +<p>"Bindle!" Mrs. Bindle's voice rang out authoritatively.</p> + +<p>"'Ere am I," replied Bindle obediently.</p> + +<p>"Help us lift Mr. Gupperduck on a chair."</p> + +<p>With elaborate care they raised the inert form of Mr. Gupperduck +on to a chair. His arms fell down limply beside him. Once +he opened his eyes, and looked round the room, then, sighing +as if in thankfulness at being amongst friends, he closed them +again.</p> + +<p>"'The Lord hath given me rest from mine enemies,'" he +quoted.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle and the two friends regarded Mr. Gupperduck +admiringly.</p> + +<p>Seeing that their friend and brother was now in safe hands, +Mr. Gupperduck's two supporters prepared to withdraw. Mrs. +Bindle pressed them to have something to eat; but this they +refused.</p> + +<p>"Now ain't women funny," muttered Bindle, as Mrs. Bindle +left the room to show her visitors to the door. "She was jest +complaining that she could only get two candles and a quarter +of a pound of marjarine, and yet she wants them two coves to +stay to supper, 'ungry-lookin' pair they was too. I s'pose it's +wot she calls 'ospitality," he added; "seems to me damn silly."</p> + +<p>Like a hen fussing over a damaged chick, Mrs. Bindle ministered +to the requirements of Mr. Gupperduck. She fed him with +a spoon, crooned over and sympathised with him in his misfortune, +whilst in her heart there was a great anger against those +who had raised their hands against so godly a man.</p> + +<p>When he had eventually been half-led, half-carried upstairs +by Bindle, and Bindle himself had returned to the kitchen, Mrs. +Bindle expressed her unambiguous opinion of a country that +permitted such an outrage. She likened Mr. Gupperduck to +those in the Scriptures who had been stoned by the multitude. +She indicated that in the next world there would be a terrible +retribution upon those who were responsible for the assault upon +Mr. Gupperduck. She attacked the Coalition Government for +not providing a more effective police force.</p> + +<p>"But," protested Bindle at length, "'e was askin' for it. Why +can't 'e keep 'is opinions to 'imself, and not go a-shovin' 'em +down other people's throats when they don't like the taste of 'em? +If you go tryin' to shove tripe down the throat of a cove wot +don't like tripe, you're sure to get one in the eye, that is if 'e's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +bigger'n wot you are; if 'e's smaller 'e'll jest be sick. Yet 'ere +are you a-complainin' because Guppy gets 'imself 'urt. I don't +understand——"</p> + +<p>"Because you haven't got a soul," interrupted Mrs. Bindle +with conviction.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle philosophically, "I'd sooner 'ave a +flea than a soul, there is flea-powder but there ain't no soul-powder +wot I've been able to find."</p> + +<p>And Bindle rose, yawned and made towards the door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE COURTING OF THE REV. ANDREW MACFIE</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Hearty had never reconciled himself to the understanding that +existed between his daughter Millie and Charlie Dixon. He resented +Bindle's share in the romance, still more he resented the spirit of +independence that it had developed in Millie. He had, however, been +forced to bow to the storm. Everyone was against him, and Millie +herself had left home, refusing to return until he had apologised to +her for the most unseemly suggestion he had made as to her relations +with Charlie Dixon.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Charles Dixon, of the 110th Service Battalion, London +Regiment, had gone to the front, and Millie, sad-eyed, but grave, +looked forward to the time when he would return, a V.C.</p> + +<p>"Well, Millikins!" Bindle would cry, "'ow's 'is Nibs?" and +Millie would blush and tell of the latest news she had received +from her lover.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Joe," she would say, "I couldn't stand it but for +you," and there would be that in her voice which would cause +Bindle to turn his head aside and admonish himself as "an ole +fool."</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Millikins," Bindle would say, "Charlie's goin' +to win the war, an' we're all goin' to be proud of 'im," and +Millie would smile at her uncle with moist eyes, and give that +affectionate squeeze to his arm that Bindle would not have parted +with for the rubies of Ind.</p> + +<p>"You know, Uncle Joe," she said bravely on one occasion, +"we women have to give up those we love."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle had not seen the plaintive humour of her remark; but +had suddenly become noisily engrossed in the use of his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty was almost cordial to Charlie Dixon on the eve of +his going to France. Once this young man could be removed +from Millie's path, the way would be clear for a match such as +he had in mind. He did not know exactly what sort of man he +desired for his daughter; but he was very definite as to the +position in the world that his future son-in-law must occupy. He +would have preferred someone who had made his mark. Men +of more mature years, he had noticed, were frequently favourably +disposed towards young girls as wives, and Mr. Hearty was +determined that he would be proud of his son-in-law, that is +to say, his son-in-law was to be a man of whom anyone might +feel proud.</p> + +<p>It would not behove a Christian such as Mr. Hearty to wish +a fellow-being dead; but he could not disguise from himself the +fact that our casualties on the Western Front were heavy, +particularly during the period of offensives. Since the occasion +when Millie had asserted her independence, and had declined +to order her affections in accordance with Mr. Hearty's wishes, +there had been something of an armed neutrality existing between +father and daughter. In this she had been supported, not only +by Bindle and Mrs. Hearty, but, by a strange freak of fate, to a +certain extent, by Mrs. Bindle herself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty had never quite understood how it was that his +sister-in-law had turned against him. She had said nothing +whatever as to where her sympathies lay; but Mr. Hearty instinctively +felt that she had ranged herself on the side of the enemy.</p> + +<p>But the fates were playing for Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>When the Rev. Mr. Sopley, of the Alton Road Chapel, had decided to +retire on account of failing health, Lady Knob-Kerrick determined to +bring up from Barton Bridge, her country residence, the Rev. Andrew +MacFie. She had forgiven him his participation in the Temperance Fête +fiasco, accepting his explanation that he had been drugged by the +disciples of the devil, a view that would have been entirely endorsed +by Mrs. Bindle, had she known that Bindle was responsible for the +mixing of alcohol with the lemonade.</p> + +<p>The Barton Bridge Temperance Fête fiasco had proved the +greatest sensation that the county had ever known. The mixing +of crude alcohol and distilled mead with the lemonade, whereby<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +the participants in the rustic fête had been intoxicated, thus +causing it to develop into a wild orgy of violence, resulting in +assaults upon Lady Knob-Kerrick and the police, had been a +nine days' wonder. A number of arrests had been made; but +when the true facts came to the knowledge of the police, the +prisoners had been quietly released, and officially nothing more +was heard of the affair.</p> + +<p>It was a long time before Lady Knob-Kerrick could be persuaded to see +in the Rev. Andrew MacFie, the minister of her chapel, an innocent +victim of a deep-laid plot. It was he who had seized the hose that +washed her out of her carriage, it was he who had led the assault on +the police, it was he who had said things that had been the common +talk of all the public-house bars for miles round.</p> + +<p>After Mr. MacFie's eloquent sermon upon the Gadarene swine, +Lady Knob-Kerrick had eventually come round, and a peace +had been patched up between them. From that day it required +more courage to whisper the words "Temperance Fête" in Barton +Bridge, than to charge across "No Man's Land" in France.</p> + +<p>And so it was that the Rev. Andrew MacFie transferred his +activities from Barton Bridge to Fulham. He was grateful to +Providence for this sign of beneficent approval of his labours, and +relieved to know that Barton Bridge would in the future be but +a memory. There he had made history, for in the bars of The +Two-Faced Earl and The Blue Fox the unbeliever drinks with +gusto and a wink of superior knowledge a beverage known as a +"lemon-and-a-mac," a compound of lemonade and gin, which +owes its origin to the part played in the historic temperance fête +by the Rev. Andrew MacFie.</p> + +<p>One evening, shortly after the departure of Charlie Dixon, Mrs. +Bindle was busily engaged in laying the table for supper. Mrs. +Bindle's kitchen was a model of what a kitchen should be. Everything +was clean, orderly, neat. The utensils over the mantelpiece +shone like miniature moons, the oil-cloth was spotless, the dresser +scrubbed to a whiteness almost incredible in London, the saucepans +almost as clean outside as in, the rug before the stove neatly +pinned down at the corners. It was obviously the kitchen of a +woman to whom cleanliness and order were fetiches. As Bindle +had once remarked, "There's only one spot in my missis' kitchen, +and that's when I'm there."</p> + +<p>As she proceeded with her work she hummed her favourite +hymn; it rose and fell, sometimes dying away altogether. She +banged the various articles on the table as if to emphasise her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +thoughts. Her task completed, she went to the sink. As she +was washing her hands there was a knock at the kitchen door. +Taking no notice she proceeded to dry her hands. The knock +was repeated.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't stand there playing the fool, Bindle!" she snapped. +"I haven't time to——"</p> + +<p>The door opened slowly and admitted the tall, lanky form of +the Rev. Andrew MacFie.</p> + +<p>"It's me, Mrs. Beendle," he said, as he entered the room. +"The outer door was open, so I joost cam in."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I'm sorry, sir," said Mrs. Bindle, "I thought it was +Bindle."</p> + +<p>Her whole manner underwent a change; her uncompromising +attitude of disapproval giving place to one of almost servile +anxiety to make a good impression. She hurriedly removed and +folded her apron, slipping it into the dresser-drawer.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come into the parlour, sir?" she said. "It's very +kind of you to call."</p> + +<p>"Na, na, Mrs. Beendle," replied Mr. MacFie. "I joost cam +in to—to——" He hesitated.</p> + +<p>"But won't you sit down, sir?" Mrs. Bindle indicated a chair +by the side of the table.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie drew the chair towards him, sitting bolt upright, +holding his soft felt hat upon his knees.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle drew another chair from under the opposite side +of the table and seated herself primly upon it. With folded +hands she waited for the minister to speak.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie was obviously ill at ease.</p> + +<p>"Ye'll be comin' to the sairvice, the nicht, Mrs. Beendle?" +he began.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir," responded Mrs. Bindle, moving her head back +on her shoulders, depressing her chin and drawing in her lips +with a simper. "I wouldn't miss your address."</p> + +<p>"Aye!" said Mr. MacFie, gazing into vacancy as if in search +of inspiration. Finding none, he repeated "Aye!"</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie's expression was one of persistent gloom. No +smile was ever permitted to wanton across his sandy features. +After a few moments' silence he made another effort.</p> + +<p>"I'm sair consairned, Mrs. Beendle——" He stopped, wordless.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," responded Mrs. Bindle encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"I'm sair consairned no to see the wee lassie more at the +kirk."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who, sir, Millie?" queried Mrs. Bindle in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" responded Mr. MacFie. "The call of mammon is like +the blairst of a great trumpet, and to the unbelieving it is as sweet +music. It is the call of Satan, Mrs. Beendle, the call of Satan," +he repeated, as if pleased with the phrase. "I'd na like the wee +lassie to—to——"</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to Mr. Hearty, sir," said Mrs. Bindle, compressing +her lips. "It's very good of you, sir, I'm sure, to——"</p> + +<p>"Na, na," interrupted Mr. MacFie hastily, "na, na, Mrs. +Beendle, ma duty. It is the blessed duty of the shepherd to be +consairned for the welfare——"</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly. The outer door had banged, and there +was the sound of steps coming along the passage. Bindle's voice +was heard singing cheerily, "I'd rather Kiss the Mistress than the +Maid." He opened the door and stopped singing suddenly. For +a moment he stood looking at the pair with keen enjoyment. Both +Mrs. Bindle and Mr. MacFie appeared self-conscious, as they +gazed obliquely at the interrupter.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, caught you," said Bindle jocosely.</p> + +<p>"Bindle!" There was horror and anger in Mrs. Bindle's voice. +Mr. MacFie merely looked uncomfortable. He rose hastily.</p> + +<p>"I must be gaeing, Mrs. Beendle," he said; then turning to +Bindle remarked, "I joost cam to enquire if Mrs. Beendle was +coming to chapel the nicht."</p> + +<p>"Don't you fret about that, sir," said Bindle genially. "She +wouldn't miss a chance to pray."</p> + +<p>"And—and may we expect you, Mr. Beendle?" enquired Mr. +MacFie by way of making conversation and preventing an embarrassing +silence.</p> + +<p>"I ain't much on religion, sir," replied Bindle hastily. "Mrs. +B.'s the one for that. Lemonade and religion are things, sir, wot +I can be trusted with. I don't touch neither." Then, as Mr. +MacFie moved towards the door, he added, "Must you go, sir? +You won't stay an' 'ave a bit o' supper?"</p> + +<p>"Na, na!" replied Mr. MacFie hastily, "I hae the Lord's work +to do, Mr. Beendle, the Lord's work to do," he repeated as he +shook hands with Mrs. Bindle and then with Bindle. "The Lord's +work to do," he repeated for a third time as, followed by Mrs. +Bindle, he left the room.</p> + +<p>"Funny thing that the Lord's work should make 'im look like +that," remarked Bindle meditatively, as he drew a tin of salmon +from his pocket.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Bindle returned to the kitchen it was obvious that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +she was seriously displeased. The bangs that punctuated the +process of "dishing-up" were good fortissimo bangs.</p> + +<p>Bindle continued to read his paper imperturbably. In his +nostrils was the scent of a favourite stew. He lifted his head like +a hound, appreciatively sniffing the air, a look of contentment +overspreading his features.</p> + +<p>Having poured out the contents of the saucepan, Mrs. Bindle +went to the sink and filled the vessel with water. Carrying it +across the kitchen, she banged it down on the stove. Opening +the front, and picking up the poker, she gave the fire several +unnecessary jabs.</p> + +<p>"Wot did Sandy want?" enquired Bindle as he got to work +upon his supper.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me," snapped Mrs. Bindle. "You'd try a +saint, you would, insulting the minister in that way."</p> + +<p>"Insultin'! Me!" cried Bindle in surprise. "Why, I only +cheer-o'd 'im."</p> + +<p>"You'll never learn 'ow to behave," stormed Mrs. Bindle, +losing her temper and her aitches. "Look at you now, all +dressed up and leaving me alone."</p> + +<p>Bindle was wearing his best clothes, for some reason known +only to himself.</p> + +<p>"Anyone would think you was goin' to a weddin'," continued +Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Not again," said Bindle cheerfully. "Wot was ole Scotch-an'-Soda +after?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"When you ask me a proper question, I'll give you a proper +answer," announced Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" said Bindle with mock resignation. "Well, wot +did the Reverend MacAndrew want?"</p> + +<p>"He came to enquire why Millie was so often absent from +chapel. I shall have to speak to Mr. Hearty," said Mrs. +Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle's reply was a prolonged whistle. "'E's after Millikins, +is 'e?" he muttered.</p> + +<p>That is how both Bindle and Mrs. Bindle first learned that +the Rev. Andrew MacFie was interested in their pretty niece, +Millie Hearty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle mentioned the fact of Mr. MacFie's call to Mr. +Hearty, and from that moment he had seen in the minister a +potential son-in-law.</p> + +<p>The angular piety of Mr. MacFie rendered him an awkward, +not to say a clumsy, lover.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I likes to see ole Mac a-'angin' round Millikins," remarked +Bindle to Mrs. Bindle one evening over supper. "It's like an +'ippopotamus a-givin' the glad-eye to a canary."</p> + +<p>"Heathen!" was Mrs. Bindle's sole comment.</p> + +<p>Millie Hearty herself had been much troubled by Mr. MacFie's +ponderous attentions. At first she had regarded them merely +as the friendly interest of a pastor in a member of his flock; but +soon they became too obvious for misinterpretation.</p> + +<p>"Millikins!" said Bindle one evening, as he and Millie were +walking home from the pictures, "you ain't a-goin' to forget +Charlie, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Joe!" There was reproach in Millie's voice as she +withdrew her arm from Bindle's.</p> + +<p>"All right, Millikins," said Bindle, capturing her hand and +placing it through his arm, "don't get 'uffy. Ole Mac's been +makin' such a dead set at you, that I wanted to know 'ow things +stood."</p> + +<p>Bindle's remarks had opened the flood-gates of Millie's confidence. +She told him that she had not liked to speak of it before +because nothing had been said, although there had been some +very obvious hints from Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"I <i>hate</i> him, Uncle Joe. He's always—always——" She +paused, blushing.</p> + +<p>"A-givin' of you the glad-eye," suggested Bindle. "I seen +'im."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's horrible, Uncle Joe. I'm sure he's a wicked man."</p> + +<p>"'Course 'e is," replied Bindle with conviction, "or 'e wouldn't +be a parson."</p> + +<p>Bindle had spoken to Mr. Hearty about the matter. "Look +'ere, 'Earty, you ain't goin' back on them two love-birds, are +you?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty had regarded his brother-in-law with what he conceived +to be reproving dignity.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand, Joseph," he remarked in hollow, woolly +tones.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's ole Mac, always a-givin' the glad-eye to Millikins," +explained Bindle.</p> + +<p>"If you wish to speak of our minister, Joseph, you must do +so respectfully, and I cannot listen to such vulgar suggestions."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come orf of it, 'Earty! you're only a greengrocer, an' +greengrocers don't talk like that 'ere, whatever they may do in +'eaven. If you're a-goin' to 'ave any 'anky-panky with Millikins over +that sandy-'aired son of a tub-thumper, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> you're up against the +biggest thing in your life, an' don't you forget it."</p> + +<p>Bindle was angry.</p> + +<p>"Of late, Joseph," Mr. Hearty replied, "you have shown too +much desire to interfere in my private affairs, and I cannot +permit it."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you can't, can't you?" said Bindle. "Don't you forget, +ole sport, that if it 'adn't a-been for me 'oldin' my tongue, +you wouldn't 'ave 'ad no bloomin' affairs for me to mix up in."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty paled and fumbled with the right lapel of his coat.</p> + +<p>"Any'ow," said Bindle, "Millikins is goin' to marry Charlie +Dixon, an' if you're goin' to try any of your dirty tricks over +Ole Skin-and-Oatmeal, then you're goin' to be up against J.B. +There are times," muttered Bindle, as he walked away from the +Heartys' house, "when 'Earty gets my goat"; and he started +whistling shrilly to cheer himself up.</p> + +<p>Bindle was still troubled in his mind about Mr. Hearty's +scheme for Millie's future and, one Sunday evening, he determined +to forgo the Night Club, in order to call upon the Heartys +with the object of conveying to Mr. MacFie in the course of conversation +that Millie was irrevocably pledged to Charlie Dixon.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie had formed the habit of supping with the Heartys +after evening service, and frequently Mrs. Bindle was of the +party.</p> + +<p>Bindle's Sunday evening engagements at the Night Club had +been a cause of great relief to Mrs. Bindle. For some time +previously Mr. Hearty's invitations to the Bindles to take supper +on Sunday evenings had been growing less and less frequent. It +did not require a very great effort of the imagination to discover +the cause. Bindle's racy speech and unconventional views upon +religion were to Mr. Hearty anathema, and whilst they amused +Mrs. Hearty, who, having trouble with her breath, did not seem +to consider that religion was meant for her, they caused Mr. +Hearty intense anguish. He felt safe, however, in asking Mr. +MacFie to supper on Sundays because Mrs. Bindle had confided +to him that Bindle was always engaged upon the Sabbath night. +She did not mention the nature of the engagement.</p> + +<p>When Bindle entered the drawing-room, Mr. Hearty, Mr. +MacFie, Mr. Gupperduck and Mrs. Bindle were gathered round +the harmonium. Mrs. Hearty sat in her customary place upon +the sofa waiting for someone to address her that she might confide +in them upon the all-absorbing subject of her breath.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck was seated on a chair, endeavouring to disci<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>pline his +accordion into not sounding E sharp continuously through each hymn. +The others were awaiting with keen interest the outcome of the +struggle.</p> + +<p>"Got a pain, ain't it?" enquired Bindle, having greeted everybody, as +he stood puffing volumes of smoke from one of "Sprague's Fulham +Whiffs," a "smoke" he still affected when Lord Windover was not +present to correct his taste in tobacco.</p> + +<p>"Well, wot's the joke?" he went on, looking from the lugubrious +countenance of Mr. MacFie to the melancholy foreboding depicted on +that of Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>Turning to Mrs. Hearty, Bindle pointed his cigar at her accusingly. +"You been tellin' naughty stories, Martha," he said, "I can see it. +Look at them coves over there"; he turned his cigar towards Mr. +Gupperduck and Mr. MacFie. "Oh, Martha, Martha!" and he wagged his +head solemnly at Mrs. Hearty, who was already in a state of helpless +laughter, "ain't you jest the limit, and 'im a parson, too."</p> + +<p>Millie Hearty entered the room at this moment and ran up to +her uncle, greeting him affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe, I'm so glad you've come," she cried. "You +never come to see us now."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, Millikins, it can't be 'elped. It's the war, you +know. That cove Llewellyn John is always wantin' me round +to give 'im advice. Then I 'ave to run over an' give Haig an +'int or two. Ain't the Kayser jest mad when 'e 'ears I been over, +because it means another push. Why, would you believe it, +sir," he turned to Mr. MacFie, "the reason they didn't make ole +'Indenburg a prince last birthday was because 'e 'adn't been +able to land me.</p> + +<p>"'Get me Joe Bindle, dead or alive,' said the Kayser to 'Indy, +'an' I'll make you a prince,' an' ain't old 'Indenburg ratty." +Bindle nodded his head knowingly.</p> + +<p>Millie laughed. "You mustn't tell such wicked fibs on Sunday, +Uncle Joe," she cried. "It's very naughty of you."</p> + +<p>Bindle pulled her down upon his knee and kissed her. "You +ain't goin' agin your ole uncle, are you, Millikins?" he cried; +then suddenly turning to Mr. Hearty he enquired, "Ain't we +goin' to 'ave any 'ymns, 'Earty? 'Ere, I say, can't you stop +Wheezy Willie doin' that, ole sport?" this to Mr. Gupperduck +who was still struggling to silence the mutinous E sharp; "sets +my teeth on edge, it does. I'm in rare voice to-night, bought +some acid drops, I did, as I come along, an' 'ad two raw eggs +in the private bar of The Yellow Ostrich."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle ran up a dubious scale to prove his words.</p> + +<p>"Oh! do be quiet, Uncle Joe," laughed Millie. "You'll +frighten Mr. MacFie away."</p> + +<p>Bindle turned and regarded the solemn visage of Mr. MacFie; +his long immobile upper lip; his sandy hair, parted in the middle +and brushed smoothly down upon his head.</p> + +<p>"No, Millikins," he said with conviction, "there ain't nothink +wot'll frighten a Scotchman out of England. They know wot's +wot, they do. Ain't that so, sir?" he enquired of Mr. MacFie.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie regarded Bindle as if he were talking in a foreign +tongue.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gupperduck laid his accordion on a chair, giving up the +unequal struggle. The others, taking this as a signal that music +was over for the evening, seated themselves in various parts of +the room.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you're 'ere, sir," said Bindle to Mr. MacFie. "I +wanted your advice on somethink in the Bible. Now then, Millikins, +you got to sit down beside me. Can't sit on your uncle's +knee when we're talkin' about the Bible. Wot'll Charlie say?" +Then turning to Mr. MacFie with what he imagined to be great +subtlety and tact, Bindle enquired, "You ain't met Charlie Dixon, +'ave you, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie shook a mournful head in negation.</p> + +<p>"'E's goin' to marry Millikins, ain't 'e, Millikins?"</p> + +<p>Millie cast her eyes down and, with heightened colour, bowed +her head in affirmation of Bindle's statement.</p> + +<p>"Pretty pair they'll make too," said Bindle with conviction. +"I 'ope you'll be marryin' 'em, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie looked uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"But that ain't wot I wanted to talk to you about," continued +Bindle. "I 'appened to pick up the Bible to-day,"—Mrs. Bindle +looked sharply at him,—"and it sort of opened at a place where +there was a yarn about war, so I read it.</p> + +<p>"It was about a cove called Urrier an' a king named David."</p> + +<p>"Uriah the Hittite," murmured Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Urrier 'ad got a smart bird,—that's a gal, sir," Bindle +explained to Mr. MacFie,—"and David 'ad sort o' taken a +likin' to 'er, so wot does David do but send Urrier to the front, +so as 'e might get killed, an' then David pinches 'is gal.</p> + +<p>"Now wot I want to know, sir," said Bindle, addressing Mr. +MacFie, "is wot Gawd did? 'Cos as far as I can see 'E was +sort o' fond o' David. Now if I'd been Gawd, an' David 'ad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +done a thing like that, I'd 'a raised a pretty big blister on 'is +nose."</p> + +<p>No one spoke. Mr. Hearty glanced covertly at Mr. MacFie, +who looked as if he would have given much to be elsewhere. +Mrs. Bindle's lips had entirely disappeared. Mrs. Hearty gasped +and heaved, whilst Minnie blushed.</p> + +<p>"Bindle!" cried Mrs. Bindle at last; "Bindle, you forget yourself."</p> + +<p>"Not me, Mrs. B., I come 'ere to get wot you an' 'Earty calls +'light.' Now, sir," turning to Mr. MacFie, "wot do you think +Gawd did, an' wot do you think o' that blighter David?"</p> + +<p>"Meester Beendle," said Mr. MacFie at last, "we must leave +to Proveedence the things that belong to Proveedence."</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd agree, sir; you're a sport, you are. Of +course David ought to 'ave left to Urrier wot belonged to Urrier, +and not pinch 'is gal. You wouldn't do a thing like that, sir, +would you?" he enquired. "I wonder wot the gal thought, eh, +Millikins?" he enquired, turning to his niece.</p> + +<p>"If I had been her," said Millie, "I should have killed +David."</p> + +<p>"Millie!" gasped Mr. Hearty. "How—how dare you say such +a thing."</p> + +<p>"I should, father," replied Millie quietly.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie coughed, Mr. Hearty looked about him as if for +something at which to clutch, then with sudden inspiration he +said, "Millie, we will have a hymn."</p> + +<p>"'Ere, let me get out," cried Bindle in mock alarm. "I can't +stand Wheezy Willie again, too much of one note. Good night, +Martha. My, ain't you gettin' fat," he remarked as he stood +looking down at Mrs. Hearty, whereat she went off into wheezes +and heavings of laughter. "S'long, 'Earty, I 'ope the allotments +won't ruin you," and Bindle took his departure.</p> + +<p>Millie went down to the door to see him out. "Uncle +Joe," she whispered, as she bade him good night, "I understood."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did, did you?" said Bindle. "Ain't we getting a +wise little puss, Millikins," and Bindle walked home whistling +"The Long, Long Trail."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CHAPEL CONVERSAZIONE</h3> + + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick's nomination of the Rev. Andrew +MacFie to the vacant pastorate at the Alton Road Chapel +was her way of showing that an amnesty had been arranged +between them, and Mr. MacFie had accepted it with the nearest +approach to pleasure that he ever permitted himself. Miss MacFie, +his sister and housekeeper, had sniffed; but it was always +difficult to discriminate between Miss MacFie's physical and +mental sniffs. During the winter she seemed to suffer from a +perpetual cold in the head. It sometimes attacked her in the +spring and autumn, so that only during the months of June, +July and August could one say with any degree of certainty that +Miss MacFie's sniffs meant indignation and not an inflamed +membrane.</p> + +<p>In commemoration of his long ministry at the Alton Road Chapel, the +Rev. Mr. Sopley was to receive an illuminated address, a purse of +fifty pounds and a silver-mounted hot-water bottle. For reasons of +economy the presentation was to be made on the same occasion as the +conversazione inaugurating the pastorate of Mr. MacFie. This +conversazione had been delayed for some months, as Miss MacFie had +been forced to remain behind at Barton Bridge in order to recover from +a particularly severe chill, and also to arrange for the letting of +the house.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Mr. MacFie had taken lodgings in Fulham, +thus freeing Mr. Sopley, whose health for some time past had +not been good. It had been arranged, however, that the retiring +shepherd should be present at the celebration in order to receive +the address, the purse and the silver-mounted hot-water bottle.</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick had consented herself to make the presentation, +and a glee-party had been arranged for to entertain the +guests. It had first been suggested that the services should be +engaged of a man who produced rabbits out of top-hats, and +omelettes from ladies' shoes; but it had been decided that such +things were too secular for the occasion.</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick had insisted that the words of the glees should +first be submitted to her, and a lengthy correspondence had taken +place between her and the leader of the glee-party. The first list had +been vetoed in its entirety. One item, entitled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> "Oh! Hush Thee My +Baby," was considered by Lady Knob-Kerrick as not quite nice; it might +make the young girls feel self-conscious. Another one of a slightly +humorous nature referred to a man's "bleeding nose." Lady Knob-Kerrick +had written to the leader of the glee-party in uncompromising terms +upon the indelicacy of submitting to her so coarse a composition. +After a brisk interchange of letters, a programme was eventually +decided upon.</p> + +<p>The conversazione was held in the Chapel school-room. A considerable +portion of Mr. Hearty's drawing-room furniture had been requisitioned +in order to give to the place an appearance of "homeiness" and +comfort. Mr. Hearty's clock and lustres were upon the mantelpiece, and +Mr. Hearty's pink candles were in the lustres. Chains of coloured +paper, to Mr. Hearty the extreme evidences of festivity, stretched +from the corners of the room to the central gas bracket on which had +been placed opaque pink globes.</p> + +<p>Nothing, however, could mitigate the hardness of the scriptural texts +in oak Oxford frames that garnished the walls. "Prepare to Meet Thy +God," even when in gold letters entwined with apple-blossom, seemed +scarcely the greeting for those who had been invited to revel. "The +Wages of Sin is Death," with violets coquetting in and out the +letters, is sound theology; but not a convincing invitation to +merry-making. "And So Shall Ye All Likewise Perish," with primroses +that seemed to have paled through long association with so terrible a +menace, threw out its uncompromising warning from immediately above +the refreshment-table. On the table itself was everything that a +little money could buy, from fish-paste sandwiches to home-made +three-cornered tarts, with raspberry-jam baked hard peeping out at the +joins, as if to advertise that there was no deception.</p> + +<p>Millie Hearty had striven to mitigate the uncompromising gloom of the +texts by placing evergreens above the frames; but with no very +pronounced success.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty had supplied the fruit and Mr. Black the groceries at +"cost-price." That is to say, Mr. Hearty had taken off a halfpenny a +pound from his tenpenny apples, and Mr. Black three farthings a bottle +from his one and ninepenny lemon-squash.</p> + +<p>On the night of the conversazione, Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle arrived +early in order to put finishing touches to everything. Mrs. Bindle was +wearing a new dress of puce-coloured merino, and Mr. Hearty had donned +a white tie in honour of the occasion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> His trousers still +concertinaed mournfully down his legs until they despairedly met his +large and shapeless boots.</p> + +<p>Millie Hearty was also an early arrival. In her white frock she +looked strangely out of place associated with her father and aunt.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty fidgeted about from place to place in a state of acute +nervousness. His eyes, roving round in search of some defect +in the arrangements, fixed themselves upon the gas. Fetching +a chair he mounted it and lowered in turn each burner, then, +replacing the chair against the wall, he stepped some distance +back to see the effect. The result was that he once more mounted +the chair and readjusted the flames to the same height as before.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle also moved about, but always with a set purpose, +putting finishing touches to everything. Alice, the Heartys' +maid, seemed to be engaged in a game of in and out, banging +the door at each entry and exit. In spite of the frequency with +which this was done, it caused Mr. Hearty each time to look +round expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Is Joseph coming?" he enquired of Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "but I've warned him." There was a +grimness in her voice that carried conviction to Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Elizabeth, thank you. I was very upset the +other night, very." He suddenly rushed away to the harmonium, +where one of the candles was burning smokily.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gupperduck can't come," said Mrs. Bindle as she rearranged +the fish-paste sandwiches. "He's got a meeting at Hoxton."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty made some murmur of response as he dashed +across the room to adjust three chairs that lacked symmetry.</p> + +<p>"I wish they'd come, Alf," wheezed Mrs. Hearty, hitting the +front of a bright green bodice. Sartorially Mrs. Hearty always +ran to brilliancy.</p> + +<p>"I hope Mr. MacFie will not be late," said Mr. Hearty in a +tone of gloomy foreboding.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie's arrival at that moment, accompanied by Miss +MacFie, put an end to this anxiety. Miss MacFie was a tall, +flat-chested, angular woman of about forty, with high cheek-bones +and almost white eyebrows and eyelashes. She greeted Mr. +Hearty and the others without emotion. Mr. MacFie had eyes +for no one but Millie.</p> + +<p>The next arrival was the Rev. Mr. Sopley, "all woe and whiskers," as +Bindle had once described him. Mournfully he shook hands with all and, +seating himself on the first available chair, cast his eyes up towards +the ceiling, his habitual attitude.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alice sidled up to Mrs. Bindle and, in a whisper audible to +all, enquired:</p> + +<p>"Am I to call out the names, mum?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Alice," replied Mrs. Bindle. "As each guest arrives +you will announce the names clearly." Then turning to Mr. +Hearty she said, "I think that you and Mr. MacFie ought to +receive the guests at the door."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Elizabeth, certainly," said Mr. Hearty. There +was unaccustomed decision in his voice. He was glad of something +definite to do. Striding over to Mr. MacFie, he whispered +to him and practically dragged him away from Millie. The two +of them took up their positions near the door, where they stood +staring at each other as if wondering what was to happen next.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hearty from time to time beat her chest.</p> + +<p>"It's me breath," she confided to Mr. Sopley, then subsided +into wheezing.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Mr. Sopley changed the angle of his gaze. Whenever +spoken to he invariably opened his mouth with a jerk, as if +he had been suddenly brought back from another world by someone +hitting him in the wind. As often as not he re-closed his +mouth without further sound. It was obvious to the most +casual observer that he was here on earth because Providence +had decreed it, and not from any wish of his own.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Alice threw open the outer door.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pain and 'is wife, mum," she announced.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty became instantly galvanised into +activity.</p> + +<p>"Not his wife," corrected Mrs. Bindle in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"But she is 'is wife," protested Alice indignantly. "Ain't you, +mum?" she enquired of Mrs. Pain.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pain simpered her acquiescence as she turned to Mr. +MacFie and Mr. Hearty, who had raced towards her.</p> + +<p>"You should say 'Mr. and Mrs. Pain,' Alice," said Mrs. Bindle +with quiet forbearance.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," remarked Alice, turning to go. "I ain't used to this +'ere. Why can't they come in without all this yelling out of +names?" she muttered. "They ain't trains."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pain, a small man with a bald head and a tuft of black +hair in the centre of a protruding forehead, shook hands joyfully +with Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty. He was wearing a black frock-coat +and light brown tweed trousers, a white waistcoat and a +royal blue tie. Mrs. Pain was a tall thin woman, garbed in a +narrow brown skirt with a cream-coloured bodice, over-elabor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>ated +with lace. The sleeves of her blouse reached only just below +the elbows, and the cream gloves on her hands failed to form a +liaison with the blouse. Round her neck was flung a locket +suspended by a massive "gold" chain. Both she and Mr. Pain +were violent in their greetings, after which they proceeded over +to two chairs by the wall where they seated themselves and proceeded +to converse in undertones, Mr. Pain drawing on a pair of black kid +gloves.</p> + +<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Withers," bawled Alice.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle nodded approval, and Mr. and Mrs. Withers shook +hands with Mr. Hearty and Mr. MacFie, much as Mr. and Mrs. +Pain had done.</p> + +<p>Mr. Withers carried a small sandy head on one side, and a +frock-coat tightly buttoned over his narrow chest. His smallness +was emphasised by the vastness of Mrs. Withers, whose white +silk bodice, cut low at the neck, and black skirt, fitted her amorously, +as if the wearer's intention were to diminish her size.</p> + +<p>For some time Alice carried out her duties with marked success, +and Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty were kept as busy as an American +President at election time. An unfortunate episode occurred +in connection with two of the most important members of Mr. +MacFie's flock, Mr. Tuddenham and Mr. Muskett.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tuddenham was a stout, self-important little man with a +red face and a "don't—you—dare—to—argue—with—me—sir" +air. Mr. Muskett, on the other hand, was tall and lean with +lantern jaws, a sallow complexion and a white beard. Mr. +Tuddenham's clothes fitted him like a glove; Mr. Muskett's hung +in despairing folds about his person. Mr. Tuddenham wore a +high collar, which cut viciously into his red neck; Mr. Muskett's +neckwear was nonconformist in cut. Mr. Tuddenham glared at +the world through fierce, bloodshot eyes; Mr. Muskett gazed +weakly over the top of a pair of pince-nez that hung at one side. +Mr. Muskett's voice was an overpowering boom, contrasting oddly +with the thin, high-pitched notes of Mr. Tuddenham. Mr. Tuddenham +was as upright as a bantam; Mr. Muskett drooped like a wilted lily. No +one had ever seen Mr. Muskett without Mr. Tuddenham, or Mr. Tuddenham +without Mr. Muskett.</p> + +<p>Alice appeared to have considerable difficulty over their names, +during which Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty stood pretending not +to be aware of the presence of the new arrivals. Eventually +Alice nodded reassuringly and, taking a step into the room, +announced:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Muddenham and Mr. Tuskett."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tuddenham, girl, Tuddenham!" shrieked Mr. Tuddenham.</p> + +<p>"Muskett, I said, Muskett!" boomed Mr. Muskett.</p> + +<p>For a moment Alice regarded them with some apprehension, +then her face broke into a smile and, with a sideways nod of +her head in the direction of the new guests and a jerk of her +thumb, she turned laughing to the door, giving a backward kick +of mirth as she went out.</p> + +<p>The guests now began to arrive thick and fast.</p> + +<p>Miss Torkington brought her tow-coloured hair and pince-nez, +and a manner that seemed to shout virtue and chastity. She was +all action and vivacity, and nothing could dam the flow of her +words, just as none could have convinced her that in her pale-blue +princess-robe with its high collar she was not the dernière +crie.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle had taken up her position near the door, so that +she might correct Alice, should occasion arise.</p> + +<p>"The butcher and 'is missus," announced Alice.</p> + +<p>"Alice, Alice!" protested Mrs. Bindle in a loud whisper. "You +mustn't announce people like that. You should say Mr. and +Mrs. Gash."</p> + +<p>"I asked 'im, mum," protested Alice, "and that's wot 'e +said."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle looked anxiously from Mr. Gash, in a check suit +and red tie, to his wife in a royal blue short skirt, a pink blouse +and white boots with tassels. They smiled good-humouredly. +Mrs. Bindle sighed her relief.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle decided that it would be wise to leave Alice to her +own devices. She knew something of the temper of the outraged +domestic. In consequence Alice announced without rebuke Mr. +Hippitt as "Mr. Pip-Pip," and Mrs. Muspratt as "Miss Musk-Rat."</p> + +<p>Presently her voice was heard without raised in angry reproaches.</p> + +<p>"What's your name?" she was heard to demand. "I got to +call it out."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't, Ruthie dear," was the reply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle exchanged glances. They recognised +that voice.</p> + +<p>"You leggo, I ain't one of them sort," said the voice of Bindle.</p> + +<p>"You ain't goin' in till you give me your name, so there!" +was Alice's retort.</p> + +<p>The guests focused their attention upon the door. Suddenly +it opened a foot and then crashed to again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! thought you'd got through, didn't you?" they heard +Alice cry triumphantly.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door opened again and Bindle entered with Alice +striving to restrain him.</p> + +<p>"Now, Ruthie, I'm married; if I wasn't, well, anythink might +'appen. Look! 'ere's my coat and 'at, so don't say I 'aven't +trusted you. 'Ere, leggo!"</p> + +<p>Bindle made an impressive figure in his evening clothes, patent +boots, a large "diamond" stud in the centre of his shirt, a +geranium in his button-hole, and a red silk handkerchief tucked +in the opening of his waistcoat.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, 'Earty!" he cried genially. "'Ere, call 'er orf," indicating +Alice with a jerk of his thumb. "Seems to 'ave taken a fancy to +me—an' she ain't the first neither," he added.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle motioned to Alice to free Bindle, which she did +reluctantly.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked round the room with interest.</p> + +<p>"This the little lot, 'Earty?" he enquired in a hoarse whisper +audible to all. "Don't look a very cheer-o crowd, do they? The +idea of goin' to 'eaven seems to make 'em low-spirited."</p> + +<p>Bindle regarded Mr. MacFie intently, then turning to Mr. +Muskett, who happened to be standing near him, he remarked:</p> + +<p>"Can't you see 'im in a night-shirt with wings and an 'arp, +a-flutterin' about like a little canary. Wonderful place, 'eaven, +sir," said Bindle, looking up at Mr. Muskett.</p> + +<p>"Sir!" boomed Mr. Muskett.</p> + +<p>Bindle started back, then recovering himself and, leaning forward +slightly, he said:</p> + +<p>"Do you mind doin' that again, sir, jest to see if I can stand +it without jumping."</p> + +<p>Mr. Muskett glared at him, swung round on his heel and joined +Mr. Tuddenham at the other end of the room.</p> + +<p>"Seem to 'ave trod on 'is toes," muttered Bindle as he watched +Mr. Muskett obviously explaining to Mr. Tuddenham the insult +to which he had just been subjected.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked about him with interest, the only guest who +seemed thoroughly comfortable and at home. Suddenly his eye +caught sight of the text above the refreshment-table, and he +grinned broadly. Looking about him for someone to share +the joke, he took a step towards his nearest neighbour, Miss +Torkington.</p> + +<p>"Ain't 'e a knock-out!" he remarked, nudging her with his +elbow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon!" said Miss Torkington, lifting her chin +and folding her hands before her.</p> + +<p>"'Im, 'Earty," said Bindle, "ain't 'e a knock-out! Look at +that! 'So shall Ye All Likewise Perish,'" he read. "Fancy +sticking that up over the grub."</p> + +<p>Miss Torkington, her hands still folded before her, with head +in the air, wheeled round and walked away in what she conceived +to be a dignified manner.</p> + +<p>Bindle slowly turned and watched her.</p> + +<p>"Quaint old bird," he muttered. "I wonder wot I said to 'urt +'er feelin's."</p> + +<p>The glee-party of four had formed up near the harmonium. +Mr. Hearty was in earnest conversation with the leader. He +wished to see Lady Knob-Kerrick's arrival heralded with appropriate +music. The leader of the singers was a man whose serious +visage convinced Mr. Hearty that to him might safely be left the +selection of "the extra" that was to welcome the patroness of +the occasion. Mr. Hearty was unaware that in the leader's heart +was a smouldering anger against Lady Knob-Kerrick on account +of her rudeness in the recent correspondence that had taken +place. Furthermore, he had already received his fee.</p> + +<p>"Hi, 'Earty!" Bindle called to Mr. Hearty as he left the leader +of the glee-party. "When's the Ole Bird comin'?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty turned. "The old bird?" he interrogated with +lifted eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Lady Knob-Kerrick," bawled Alice, throwing open the door +with a flourish.</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick sailed into the room, her head held high +in supercilious superiority. Following her came her companion, +Miss Strint, who had carried self-suppression and toadyism to the +point of inspiration. Immediately behind came John, Lady +Knob-Kerrick's footman, bearing before him the illuminated +address, the purse containing fifty Treasury pound notes, and +the silver-mounted hot-water bottle.</p> + +<p>Bindle started clapping vigorously. Two or three other guests +followed suit; but the look Lady Knob-Kerrick cast about her +proved to them conclusively that Bindle had done the wrong thing.</p> + +<p>"It is most kind of your ladyship to come." Mr. Hearty fussed +about Lady Knob-Kerrick, walking deprecatingly upon his toes. +She appeared entirely oblivious of his presence. He turned +towards the harmonium and made frantic signals to the leader +of the glee-party. Suddenly the quartette broke into song, every +word ringing out clearly and distinctly:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><p> +There's the blue eye and the brown eye, the grave eye and the sad,<br /> +There's the pink eye and the green eye and the eye that's rolling mad;<br /> +But of all the eyes that eye me, be they merciful or bad,<br /> +The eye that I would choose is what they call "The Glad."<br /> +</p></div> + +<p style='text-align:right;'>THE GLAD EYE.</p> + +<p>The last line was rolled out sonorously by the bass.</p> + +<p>The company looked at one another in amazement. Lady +Knob-Kerrick, scarlet with rage, glared through her lorgnettes +at the singers and then at Mr. Hearty, who from where he stood +petrified gazed wonderingtly at the glee-party. Mrs. Bindle, +with great presence of mind, moved swiftly across the room, and +caught the falsetto by the lapel of the coat just as he had opened +his mouth to begin his solo verse, dealing with the knowledge +acquired by a flapper from the country in the course of a fortnight's +holiday in London. Mrs. Bindle made it clear to the leader that as +far as the Alton Road Chapel was concerned he was indulging in an +optical delusion.</p> + +<p>"We are all deeply honoured by your Leddyship's presence +this evening," said Mr. MacFie, throwing himself into the breach. +"It is——"</p> + +<p>"Get me a chair," demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick, still glaring +in the direction of the glee-singers.</p> + +<p>Bindle rushed at her with a frail-looking hemp-seated chair, +which he proceeded to flick with his red silk pocket-handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"One be enough, mum?" he enquired solicitously.</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick regarded him through her lorgnettes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sopley had been detached from his contemplation of the +ceiling, and was now led up to Lady Knob-Kerrick.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he exclaimed, "we are indeed greatly honoured."</p> + +<p>"'Ere, 'ere!" broke in Bindle, attracting to himself the attention +of the whole assembly.</p> + +<p>"Will your Ladyship make the presentation now?" enquired +Mr. Hearty, "or——"</p> + +<p>"Now!" was Lady Knob-Kerrick's uncompromising reply, as +she seated herself. "Fetch a table, please," she added, indicating, +with an inclination of her head, her footman, who stood +with what Bindle called "the prizes."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gash trotted off to fetch a small table from +the corner of the room. This was placed in front of Lady Knob-Kerrick, +and on it John deposited the illuminated address, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> bag containing +the notes, and the silver-mounted hot-water bottle.</p> + +<p>A hush of expectancy fell upon the assembly. Lady Knob-Kerrick +rose and was greeted by respectful applause. Her manner +was that of a peacock deigning to acknowledge the existence +of a group of sparrows. From a dorothy-bag she drew a typewritten +paper, which she proceeded to read.</p> + +<p>"I have been asked to present to the Rev. James Sopley, as a +mark of the esteem in which he is held by his flock, an illuminated +address, a purse of fifty pounds, and a silver-mounted hot-water +bottle"—she paused for a moment—"a trifle that shall remind +him of the loving hearts he has left behind. (Murmurs of respectful +appreciation.)</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sopley has fought the good fight in Fulham for upwards +of twenty-five years, and he is now about to retire to enjoy the +rest that he has so well and thoroughly earned. ("'Ere, 'ere!" +from Bindle.) I trust and hope that the Lord will spare him +for many years to come. ("I'm sure I would if I was Gawd," +whispered Bindle to Mr. Tuddenham, who only glared at him.)</p> + +<p>"We have now among us," continued Lady Knob-Kerrick, "a new pastor, a +man of sterling worth and sound religious principles. ("That's you!" +said Bindle in a hoarse whisper, nudging Mr. MacFie who stood next to +him.) I have," proceeded Lady Knob-Kerrick, "sat under him ("Oh, +naughty! naughty!" whispered Bindle. Lady Knob-Kerrick glared at +him),—sat—sat under him for a number of years at Barton Bridge, +where he will always be remembered as a man devoted to" ("Temperance +fêtes!" interpolated Bindle.)</p> + +<p>The result of the interruption was electrical. Lady Knob-Kerrick +dropped her lorgnettes and lost her place. Mr. MacFie's +"adam's apple" moved up and down with alarming rapidity, +testifying to the great emotional ordeal through which he was +passing. Mr. Hearty looked at Mrs. Bindle, Mrs. Bindle looked +at Bindle, everybody looked at everybody else, because everyone +had heard of the Temperance Fête fiasco. Lady Knob-Kerrick +resumed her seat suddenly.</p> + +<p>Then it was that Mr. Hearty had an inspiration. With a swift movement +which precipitated him on the foot of Miss Torkington (whose anguished +expression caused Bindle to mutter, "Fancy 'er bein' able to do that +with 'er face!"), he landed beside Mr. Sopley. He managed to detach +his eyes from their contemplation of the ceiling and impress on him +that he had better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> make a reply. As he walked the few steps necessary +to reach the table, Bindle once more started clapping vigorously, a +greeting that was taken up by several of the other guests, but in a +more modified manner.</p> + +<p>In a mournful and foreboding voice, thoroughly appropriate to an hour +of national disaster, Mr. Sopley thanked Lady Knob-Kerrick for her +words, and the others for their notes. He referred to the shepherd, +dragged in the sheep, scooped up the righteous, cast out the sinners; +in short he said all the most obvious things in the most obvious +manner. He promised the Alton Roaders harps and halos, and threw the +rest of Fulham into the bottomless pit. With some dexterity he +linked-up sin and the taxi-cab, saw in the motor-omnibus the cause of +the weakening moral-fibre of the working-classes, expressed it as his +conviction that Europe was being drenched in blood because Fulham +thought less of faith than of football.</p> + +<p>He was frankly pessimistic about the future of the district, an +attitude of mind that appeared to have been induced by the garments of +the local maidens. Fire and flood he promised Fulham, but made no +mention of Hammersmith or Putney. In a voice that throbbed with +emotion he took his official leave, having convinced everybody that +only his intercessionary powers with heaven had stalled off for so +long the impending fate he outlined.</p> + +<p>Taking up from the table the bag of fifty pounds, he put it in his +pocket and with bowed head walked towards the nearest chair.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, you've forgotten your bed-feller, sir!" cried Bindle, picking +up the silver-mounted hot-water bottle and the framed address and +carrying them over to Mr. Sopley.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie prepared himself for the ordeal before him. Standing in +front of Lady Knob-Kerrick as if she had been an altar, he bowed low +before her.</p> + +<p>"Your Leddyship." A pause of veneration. "Ma Freends," he continued. +"Few meenisters of the Gospel have the preevilege that has been +extended to me this evening. It is the will of the Almighty that I +succeed a most saintly man (murmurs of approval) in the person of Mr. +Sopley. It will be a deefecult poseetion for me to fill. (Mr. Sopley +wagged his head from side to side.) In her breeliant oration her +Leddyship has emphasised some of the attreebutes of a man whose +godliness ye can all testify——"</p> + +<p>"You shan't keep me out, you baggage. Can't I hear his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> dear voice! My +Andrew! Oh, Andy! Andy! and they want to keep me away from you."</p> + +<p>The interruption came from the door, where Alice was vainly +endeavouring to keep out a dishevelled-looking creature, who finally +broke through and walked unsteadily towards the table.</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick turned and stared at the apparition through her +lorgnettes.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie's jaw dropped.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sopley for the first time that evening seemed to forget heaven, +and devoted himself to terrestrial things. Everybody was gazing with +wide-eyed wonder at the cause of the interruption.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my Andrew, my little Andy!" cried the woman in hoarse maudlin +tones. Her hair, to which was attached a black toque with a brilliant +oval of embroidery in front, hung over her left ear. Her clothes, +ill-fitting and much stained, hung upon her as if they had been +thrown—rather than put on. Her face, intended by Providence to be +pretty, was tear-stained and dirty. Her blouse was open at the neck +and her boots mud-stained and shapeless.</p> + +<p>"What—what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick +of Mr. MacFie, as she rose from her chair, a veritable Rhadamanthus.</p> + +<p>The girl, who was now hanging on to Mr. MacFie's arm, +turned and regarded Lady Knob-Kerrick over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"He's my boooy," she spluttered; then closing her eyes her +head wobbled from side to side, as if her neck were unable to +support it.</p> + +<p>"Your what?" thundered Lady Knob-Kerrick.</p> + +<p>"My—my boooy," drawled the girl, "husband. Oh! Andy, +Andy!" and she clung to Mr. MacFie the more closely in spite +of his frantic efforts to shake himself free.</p> + +<p>"Mr. MacFie, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady +Knob-Kerrick.</p> + +<p>"I've—I've never seen her before," stammered Mr. MacFie, +looking as if he had been grabbed by an octopus. "On ma oath, +your Leddyship. Before ma God!"</p> + +<p>"Andy, Andy! don't say such awful things," protested the girl. "You +know you married me secret because you said Helen wouldn't let you;" +and she sagged away again, half supporting herself on Mr. MacFie's +arm.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of this woman?" demanded Lady +Knob-Kerrick of Miss MacFie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss MacFie shook her head as if the question were an insult.</p> + +<p>"Then it was a secret marriage." Lady Knob-Kerrick remembered +what she had heard of Mr. MacFie's conduct at the temperance +fête. "Mr. MacFie, you have—you have disgraced——"</p> + +<p>"Your Leddyship, on ma honour, I sweear——!"</p> + +<p>"Don't, Andy, don't!" said the girl, striving to put her hand +over his mouth. "Don't! God may strike you dead. He did +it once, didn't He? Oh! I've learnt the Bible," she added in +a maudlin tone. "I can sing hymns, I can." She began to croon +something in a wheezy voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie made a desperate effort to free himself from her +clutches, but succeeded only in bringing her to her knees.</p> + +<p>"Look at 'im! Look at 'im!" shrieked the girl, "knocking +me about, what he swore to love, honour and obey. Oh, you +devil, Andy! How you used to behave, and now—and now——"</p> + +<p>"I swear it's all a damned lee! It's ma enemy—ma enemy. +Woman, I know thee not! Thou art the scarlet woman of Babylon! +Get thee from me, I curse thee!" Mr. MacFie's Gaelic blood was up.</p> + +<p>"Go it, sir!" said Bindle. "Go it!"</p> + +<p>"Ye have come as the ravening wolf upon the sheep-fold at +night to destroy the lamb." Mr. MacFie waved his disengaged +arm.</p> + +<p>"You bein' the lamb, sir, go it!" said Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I'll hae the law on ye, woman, I'll hae the law on ye! Ye +impostor! Ye harlot!! Ye daughter of Belial!!!" He flung +his arm about, and his eyes rolled with almost maniacal fury. +"Ma God! ma God! Why persecuteth Thou me?" he cried, lifting +his eyes to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>Then with a sudden drop to earthly things he appealed to +Lady Knob-Kerrick.</p> + +<p>"Your Leddyship, your Leddyship, do not believe this woman. +She lies! She would ruin me!! I will have her arrested!!! +Fetch the police!!!! I demand the police!!!!!"</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick turned towards the door at the entrance +of which stood her footman.</p> + +<p>"John, blow your police-whistle," she ordered, practical in +all things.</p> + +<p>John disappeared. A moment later the raucous sound of a +police-whistle was heard in continuous blast.</p> + +<p>"That's right!" shouted the woman, "that's right! Blow +your police-whistle! Blow your pinkish brains out!" Then with +a sudden change she turned to Mr. MacFie. "Oh, Andy, Andy!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +You never was the same man after you 'ad that drink in you +down in the country at the temperance fête. Don't you remember +how you laughed with me about that Old Bird being washed out +of her carriage?"</p> + +<p>"It's a lee! It's a lee! A damnable lee!" shrieked Mr. +MacFie.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie was interrupted in his protestations by a sudden +rush of feet, and the hall began to fill with a wild-eyed, dishevelled +crowd. Mothers carrying their babies, or pulling along little +children. Everyone inviting everyone else to come in. One +woman was in hysterics. Lady Knob-Kerrick stared at them in +wonder.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of no one in +particular.</p> + +<p>"It's a raid, mum, a raid; it's a raid," sobbed a woman, leading +two little children with the hand and holding a baby in her +disengaged arm.</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick paled. "A raid!" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mum, can't you 'ear the police-whistles?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm damned!" broke in Bindle, slapping his leg in +ecstasy; then a moment after, seeing the terror on the women's +faces, he cried out:</p> + +<p>"It's all right, there ain't no raid. Don't be frightened. It's +ole Calves with that bloomin' police-whistle."</p> + +<p>"Tell that fool to stop," cried Lady Knob-Kerrick. A special +constable pushed his way through the crowd.</p> + +<p>"What is all this about, please?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"There's a raid, sir," cried several voices.</p> + +<p>"I give this woman in charge," cried Mr. MacFie, dramatically +pointing at her who claimed to be his wife.</p> + +<p>With alacrity the special pulled his note-book out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>"The charge, sir?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"She says she's ma wife."</p> + +<p>The special looked up from his note-book. "That is not an +indictable offence, sir, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"But she's na ma wife," protested Mr. MacFie.</p> + +<p>Another rush of people seeking shelter swept the constable +on one side, and when he once more strove to take up the thread, +the woman had disappeared.</p> + +<p>The results of John's vigour with the police-whistle were +far-reaching. Omnibuses had drawn up to the kerb and had been +promptly deserted by passengers and crew. The trains on the +District Railway were plunged in darkness and the authorities at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +Putney Bridge Station and East Putney telephoned through that +there was a big air-raid. Although nothing had been heard at +head-quarters, it was deemed advisable to take precautions. +Special constables, nurses and ambulances were called out, anti-aircraft +stations warned, and tens of thousands of people sent scuttling home.</p> + +<p>Bindle was one of the first to leave the School-room, and he +made his way over to Dick Little's flat at Chelsea.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Dick Little as he opened the door, "Nancy's back. +This way," he added, walking towards his bedroom.</p> + +<p>In front of the dressing-table stood Private "Nancy" Dane, +the far-famed Pierrette of the Passchendaele Pierrots. He was in +the act of removing from his closely-cropped head a dark wig +to which was attached a black toque with an oval of vivid-coloured +embroidery.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's that!" he remarked as he laid it on the table. +"Hullo, Bindle!" he cried. "All Clear?"</p> + +<p>"All Clear!" replied Bindle as he seated himself upon a chair +and proceeded to light the big cigar that Dick Little handed +him. Dick Little threw himself upon the bed.</p> + +<p>"You done it fine," remarked Bindle approvingly, as he +watched Dane slowly transform himself into a private of the +line. "Pore ole Mac," he added, "'e got the wind up proper."</p> + +<p>"Good show, what?" queried Dick Little as he lazily pulled +at his pipe, tired after a long day's work in the hospital.</p> + +<p>"Seemed a bit cruel to me," said Dane as he struggled out of a +pair of hefty-looking corsets.</p> + +<p>"Cruel!" cried Bindle indignantly, as he sat up straight in +his chair. "Cruel! with 'im a-tryin' to take the gal away from +one of the boys wot's fightin' at the front. Cruel! It wouldn't +be cruel, Mr. Nancy, if 'e was cut up an' salted an' given to +the 'Uns as a meat ration;" and with this ferocious pronouncement +Bindle sank back again in his chair and puffed away at his +cigar.</p> + +<p>"Sorry!" said Dane, laboriously pulling off a stocking.</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" said Bindle cheerfully. Then after a pause he +added, "I got to thank Ole 'Amlet for that little idea, and you, +sir, for findin' Mr. Nancy. Did it wonderful well, 'e did; still," +remarked Bindle meditatively, "I wish they 'adn't blown that +police-whistle. Them pore women an' kids was that scared, +made me feel I didn't ought to 'ave done it; but then, 'ow was +I to know that the Ole Bird was goin' to 'anky-panky like that +with Calves. Took 'er name they did, that's somethink. Any'ow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +ole Mac won't go 'angin' round Millikins again for many a long +day. If 'e does I'll punch 'is bloomin' 'ead."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The next day Lady Knob-Kerrick and John were summoned +for causing to be blown to the public confusion a police-whistle, +and although the summonses were dismissed the magistrate said +some very caustic things about the insensate folly of excitable +women. He furthermore made it clear that if anybody blew a +police-whistle in the south-western district because somebody +else's wife had come back unexpectedly, he would without hesitation +pass a sentence that would discourage any repetition of so +unscrupulous and unpardonable an act.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacFie cleared his character to some extent by a sermon +on the following Sunday upon the ninth commandment, and by +inserting an advertisement in the principal papers offering £20 +to anyone who would give information as to the identity of the +woman who on the night of the 28th had created a disturbance +in the Alton Road School Room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE LETTING OF NUMBER SIX</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>"An' what am I to do if there's an air-raid?" demanded Mrs. +Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle deliberately emptied his coffee-cup, replaced it +in its saucer, sat back further in his chair as a sign of repletion, +then turned to Mrs. Bindle, who had been watching him with +angry eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's always Gawd an' Mr. Gupperduck, Mrs. B.," +he remarked, with the air of a man suggesting an unfailing source +of inspiration.</p> + +<p>"You always was a scoffer, you with your black 'eart." Mrs. +Bindle's ire was rising, and her diction in consequence losing +something of its customary precision. "You know I ain't strong +and—and 'ow them guns an' bombs frighten me." There was +in Mrs. Bindle's voice a note of entreaty.</p> + +<p>"A daughter o' the Lord didn't ought to be afraid of an 'Un;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +besides, you can go round an' 'old 'Earty's 'and. 'E's a rare +ole 'ero when there's guns goin' off."</p> + +<p>"I knew I shouldn't get any sympathy from you," complained +Mrs. Bindle, rising and proceeding to bang away the breakfast +things. When Mrs. Bindle was suffering from any great stress +of emotion, she expressed her feelings by the noise she made. +Ironing gave her the greatest opportunities. She could bang the +iron on the ironing-board, back again to the stand, and finally +on to the stove.</p> + +<p>"I got to earn a livin'," remarked Bindle philosophically as +he proceeded to light his pipe. "It's war-time too, an' nobody +can't afford to move, so pore ole Joe 'as to take any ole job +'e can get 'old of."</p> + +<p>"You lorst your last job a-purpose," snapped Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at her sharply. Sometimes Mrs. Bindle's accuracy +in things where she could not possibly possess knowledge was +startling. Bindle had temporarily relinquished his situation in +the Removal Department of Harridge's Stores in order to become +caretaker at Fulham Square Mansions whilst his intimate, Charlie +Hart, had a fortnight's holiday.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hart had been ill, and the doctor said that change of air +and scene were essential to her recovery. She could not go alone, +and if Mr. Hart went with her and a substitute were obtained, he +would in all probability, as Charlie put it, "pinch my bloomin' +job." Bindle he knew he could trust, and so it came about that +for a fortnight Bindle was to "sleep out."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," Bindle explained, "I couldn't disappoint ole +Charlie——"</p> + +<p>"And what about me?" demanded Mrs. Bindle, looking round +from a fierce attack upon the kitchen stove with the poker.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bindle slowly, "you're a disappointed woman as +it is, Mrs. B., so you ain't 'urt."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle resumed her attack upon the fire with increased +vigour.</p> + +<p>"You always was a selfish beast, Bindle," she retorted. "You'll +be sorry when I'm dead."</p> + +<p>Any reference by Mrs. Bindle to the remorse that he would +suffer after her death, Bindle always regarded as a sort of "take +cover" signal. Mrs. Bindle was hysterical, and Bindle liked to +be well out of the way before the storm broke. He had heard, +but had never had an opportunity of testing the statement, that +without an audience dogs will not fight and women will never +have hysterics.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>When, therefore, Mrs. Bindle referred to what Bindle widower +would suffer on account of what Bindle benedict had neglected +to do, he rose, picking up the faded blue-and-white cricket-cap +he invariably wore, and walked towards the door.</p> + +<p>"There'll be a lot o' tips, ole Charlie says," he remarked, "an' +I'll buy you somethink. I'll run in every day to see you ain't +gone off with 'Guppy.'"</p> + +<p>"You're a dirty-minded beast, Bindle," raged Mrs. Bindle; +but her words beat up against the back door, through which +Bindle had vanished. He had become a master of strategical +retreat.</p> + +<p>Whistling shrilly, he proceeded along the Fulham Road in the +direction of Fulham Square Mansions. Bindle was in a happy +frame of mind. It would be strange if a fortnight as porter at +Fulham Square Mansions did not produce something in the way of +a diversion.</p> + +<p>"Cheer-o, uncle!" The remark came from a brazen-faced +girl waiting for a bus.</p> + +<p>Bindle frowned as he looked her up and down, from the low-cut +transparent blouse to the short skirt, reaching little below +her knees.</p> + +<p>"If I <i>was</i> your uncle, young woman," he remarked, "I'd slap +you into becomin' decent."</p> + +<p>The girl jumped on to a bus that had just drawn up, and +with a swirl of skirt and wealth of limb, waved her hand as she +climbed the stairs.</p> + +<p>"So long, old dear!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Got enough powder on 'er face to whitewash 'er feet," +remarked a workman to Bindle as he resumed his walk.</p> + +<p>"Women is funny things," responded Bindle. "They never +seems to be wearin' so little, but wot they can't leave orf a bit +more."</p> + +<p>"You're right, mate," replied the man when he had digested +the remark. "If I was the police I'd run 'em in."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bindle philosophically, "there is some wot likes +to see all the goods in the window. S'long!" and he turned off +the Fulham Road, leaving the workman to pursue his journey +puzzling over Bindle's enigmatical utterance.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, Charlie!" greeted Bindle, as he entered the porter's +lodge of Fulham Square Mansions. "'Ere I am, come to take +care of all the little birds in the nest wot you're a-leavin' behind."</p> + +<p>Charlie Hart was a big man with a heavy moustache, a brow +whereon the creases of worry had a perpetual abiding-place, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +an indeterminate chin. "Charlie ought to wear a beard," was +Bindle's verdict.</p> + +<p>"Glad you come, Joe. I'll 'ave time to go over things again. +Train don't go till four."</p> + +<p>During the next few hours Bindle was once more taken over +the salient features of the life of a porter at a block of residential +flats. Charlie Hart had no system or order in conveying his +instructions, and Bindle saw that he would have to depend upon +his own wits to meet such crises as arose.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sedge, Mrs. Hart's mother, would look after those tenants +who did not possess servants.</p> + +<p>"She's all right when she ain't after 'Royal Richard,'" explained +Charlie Hart.</p> + +<p>"An' who's Royal Richard?" enquired Bindle with interest.</p> + +<p>"Gin!" was Charlie Hart's laconic response.</p> + +<p>Charlie enumerated the numbers of the flats, the occupants +of which were to be "done for." One thing he particularly +emphasised, Number Six was temporarily vacant. The owner +was away; but it was let furnished from the following Monday +to a Miss Cissie Boye, who was one of those to be "done for." +Bindle was particularly cautioned to see that there were no +"carryings on," whereat he winked reassuringly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sedge was a stolid matron, whose outlook on life had +reached the dregs of pessimism.</p> + +<p>"Oh! don't ask me," was the phrase with which she warded +off any attempt at conversation. Hers was a soul dedicated to +Royal Richard and silence.</p> + +<p>"Cheery little thing," was Bindle's summing up of the gloomy +Mrs. Sedge.</p> + +<p>Bindle had not been in charge an hour before Number Seven +began to get troublesome. He was a choleric ex-Indian civil +servant.</p> + +<p>"Where's that damned fellow Hart?" he roared, thrusting his +head into the porter's lodge.</p> + +<p>"'E's gone to the damned seaside," replied Bindle imperturbably, as he +proceeded to light his pipe with elaborate calm. "Taken 'is damned +wife with 'im," he added.</p> + +<p>Number Seven gasped.</p> + +<p>"And who the devil are you?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Bindle with a grin, "on the 'Alls I'm Little +Tich; but 'ere I calls myself Joe Bindle, known as ''Oly Joe.'"</p> + +<p>For a moment Number Seven, his customary redness of face +transformed to purple, stood regarding Bindle fiercely.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then be damned to you!" he burst out, and turning on his +heel, dashed upstairs.</p> + +<p>"I ain't lived with Mrs. B. nineteen years without learnin' 'ow +to 'andle explosives," remarked Bindle as he settled down to +read an evening newspaper he had discovered in the letter box.</p> + +<p>Bindle soon discovered that the life of a porter at residential +flats is strangely lacking in repose. Everybody seemed either +to want something sent up, or came to complain that their instructions +had not been carried out.</p> + +<p>The day passed with amazing rapidity. At eight o'clock +Bindle stepped round to The Ancient Earl for a glass of beer. +When he returned at nine-thirty he found his room in a state of +siege.</p> + +<p>"Oh, here he is!" said someone. Bindle smiled happily.</p> + +<p>"Where the devil have you been?" demanded Number Seven +angrily.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at him steadily. Having apparently established +Number Seven's identity to his entire satisfaction, he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Now look 'ere, sir, this is the second time to-day I've 'ad +to speak to you about your language. This ain't a peace-meetin'. +You speakin' like that before ladies too. I'm surprised at you, +I am really. Now 'op it an' learn some nice words, an' then +come back an' beg prettily, an' p'raps I'll give you a bit o' cake."</p> + +<p>"You damned insolent fellow!" thundered Number Seven, +"I'll report you, I'll——"</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere," remarked Bindle tranquilly, "if you ain't gone +by the time I've finished lightin' this pipe,"—he struck a match +deliberately,—"I'll 'oof it myself, an' then who'll fetch up all +the coals in the mornin'?"</p> + +<p>This master-stroke of strategy turned public opinion dead +against Number Seven, who retired amidst a murmur of disapproving +voices.</p> + +<p>"It's 'ard if I can't go out to see a dyin' wife an' child, without +'im a-comin' usin' 'ot words like that," grumbled Bindle, +as he proceeded to investigate the cases of the other tenants and +their minions.</p> + +<p>Number One was expecting a parcel. Had it arrived?</p> + +<p>No, it had not, but Bindle would not rest until it did.</p> + +<p>Number Twelve, a tall, melancholy-visaged man, had lost +Fluffles. Where did Bindle think she was?</p> + +<p>"P'raps she's taken up with another cove, sir," suggested +Bindle sympathetically. "You never knows where you are with +women."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>The maid from Number Fifteen giggled.</p> + +<p>Number Twelve explained in a weary tone that Fluffles was a +Pekinese spaniel.</p> + +<p>"A dog, you say, sir," cried Bindle, "why didn't you say so +before? I might 'ave advertised for—well, well, I'll keep a look +out."</p> + +<p>"Wot's that?" he enquired of the maid from Number Eight. +"No coal? Can't fetch coal up after six o'clock. That's the +rules," he added with decision.</p> + +<p>"But we must have some, we can't go to bed without coal," +snapped the girl, an undersized, shrewish little creature.</p> + +<p>"Well, Queenie," responded Bindle imperturbably, "you'll 'ave +to take some firewood to bed with you, if you wants company; +coal you don't get to-night. Wot about a log?"</p> + +<p>"My name's not 'Queenie,'" snapped the girl.</p> + +<p>"Ain't it now," remarked Bindle; "shows your father and +mother 'adn't an eye for the right thing, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you we must have coal," persisted the girl.</p> + +<p>"Now look 'ere, Queenie, my dear, a gal as wants to take coal +to bed with 'er ain't—well, she ain't respectable. Now orf you +goes like a good gal."</p> + +<p>"It's in case of raids, you saucy 'ound!" screeched "Queenie." +"I'll get even with you yet, you red-nosed little bounder! I'll +pay you!"</p> + +<p>"Funny where they learns it all," remarked Bindle to Number +Eleven, a quiet little old lady who wanted a postage stamp.</p> + +<p>The little lady smiled.</p> + +<p>"She won't be wantin' coal in the next world if she goes on +like that, will she, mum?" said Bindle as he handed her the +stamp.</p> + +<p>"Her mistress has a weak heart," ventured Number Eleven, +"and during the raids she shivers so——"</p> + +<p>"Now ain't that jest like a woman, beggin' your pardon, mum. +Why didn't Queenie say that instead of showin' 'ow bad she's +been brought up? Right-o! I'll take her up some coal."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Bindle surprised "Queenie" by appearing at +the door of Number Eight with a pailful of coal. She stared +at him in surprise. Bindle grinned.</p> + +<p>"'Ere you are, Queenie," he said cheerfully. "Now you'll +be able to go to sleep with a bit in each 'and, an' maybe there'll +be a bit over to put in your mouth."</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, don't you go callin' me 'Queenie'; that ain't my +name, so there," and the girl banged the door in his face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She'll grow up jest like Mrs. B.," murmured Bindle, as he +slowly descended the stairs, "an' p'raps she can't even cook. +I wonder if she's religious. Sort o' zoo this 'ere little 'ole. +Shouldn't be surprised if things was to 'appen before Ole Charlie +gets 'ome again!" and Bindle returned to his lodge, where, +removing his boots and throwing off his coat, he lay down on +the couch that served as a bed for the porter at Fulham Square +Mansions.</p> + +<p>During the next two days Bindle discovered that his duties +were endless. Everybody seemed to want something, or have +some complaint to make. He was expected to be always at his +post, night and day, and if he were not, he was threatened with +a possible complaint to the Secretary of the Company to which +the flats belonged.</p> + +<p>Bindle's fertile brain, however, was not long in devising a +means of relieving the monotony without compromising "pore +Ole Charlie." He sent home for his special constable's uniform, +although he had obtained a fortnight's leave on account of his +work. Henceforth, whenever he required relaxation, he donned +his official garb, which he found a sure defence against all complaints.</p> + +<p>"Well, Queenie," he remarked one evening to the maid at +Number Eight, "I'm orf to catch the robbers wot might carry +you away."</p> + +<p>"I can see you catchin' a man," snorted the girl scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Sorry I can't return the compliment, little love-bird," retorted +Bindle. "S'long!"</p> + +<p>"Queenie" had found her match.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>"You—er—have a furnished—er—flat to let."</p> + +<p>Bindle looked up from the paper he was reading.</p> + +<p>A timid, mouse-like little man with side-whiskers and a deprecating +manner stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Come in, sir," said Bindle heartily; "but I'm afraid it's let."</p> + +<p>"But the board's up," replied the applicant.</p> + +<p>Bindle rose, walked to the outer door, and there saw the notice-board +announcing that a furnished-flat was to let.</p> + +<p>"Funny me not noticin' that," he murmured to himself, as he +returned to the porter's lodge.</p> + +<p>"Was you wantin' it for long, sir?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"A month, I think," was the reply; "but three weeks——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, sir," began Bindle, then he smacked his leg with +such suddenness that the stranger started back in alarm, his soft +felt hat falling from his head and hanging behind him attached +to a hat-guard.</p> + +<p>"Now isn't that jest like me!" cried Bindle, his face wreathed +in smiles.</p> + +<p>The stranger eyed Bindle nervously, as he fumbled to retrieve +his lost head-gear, looking like a dog endeavouring to ascertain +if he still possessed a tail.</p> + +<p>"I was thinkin' of the other one," said Bindle. "Yes; there's +Number Six to let from next Monday."</p> + +<p>"What is the rent?" enquired the caller.</p> + +<p>Bindle, who had no idea of the rent of furnished flats, decided +to temporise. "I'll go and ask, sir," he said. "Wot was you +exactly wantin', an' about wot figure?"</p> + +<p>"Well, a bedroom, bath-room, sitting-room, kitchen and attendance, +would do," was the reply. "I do not want to pay more than three and +a half guineas a week."</p> + +<p>"Now ain't that funny!" cried Bindle, and without waiting +to explain what was funny, he picked up the key of Number Six +from his desk. "Now you jest come with me, sir, an' I'll show +you the very place you're wantin'."</p> + +<p>Number Six consisted of two bedrooms, a sitting-room, bath-room +and kitchen. Charlie Hart had taken Bindle over it, explaining +that Miss Cissie Boye, who was entering into occupation +on the following Monday, would use only the smaller bedroom +with the single bed, therefore the double-bedded room was +to remain locked.</p> + +<p>The applicant, who introduced himself as Mr. Jabez Stiffson, +expressed himself as quite satisfied with all he saw, and agreed +to enter into possession on the following Monday afternoon, at +a rental of three and a half guineas a week. He appeared mildly +surprised at Bindle waiving the question of references and a +deposit; but agreed that the smaller bedroom should be kept +locked, as containing the owner's personal possessions. Mrs. +Stiffson, he explained, was staying with friends in the country, +their own house being let; but she would join him on the Tuesday +morning.</p> + +<p>In the privacy of his own apartment, Bindle rubbed his hands +with glee. "If this ain't goin' to be a little story for the Night +Club," he murmured, "well, put me down as a Cuthbert."</p> + +<p>He persuaded Mrs. Sedge to get both rooms ready, "in case of +accidents," as he expressed it. Bindle foresaw that there might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +be some difficulty in the matter of catering for Mr. Jabez Stiffson; +but he left that to the inspiration of the moment.</p> + +<p>He looked forward to Monday as a schoolboy looks forward +to the summer holidays. He forgot to rebuke "Queenie" when +she became impertinent, he allowed Number Seven to swear with +impunity, and he even forgot to don his special's uniform and +go "on duty"; in short, he forgot everything save the all-absorbing +topic of Miss Cissie Boye and Mr. Jabez Stiffson.</p> + +<p>On Monday, Mrs. Sedge was persuaded to take a half day off. +She announced her intention of putting some flowers on her +husband's grave in Kilburn Cemetery.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle, who knew that Mrs. Sedge's "Kilburn +Cemetery" was the public-bar of The Ancient Earl, "you won't want +no bus fares."</p> + +<p>"You go hon, with a nose like that," retorted Mrs. Sedge, in +no way displeased.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't be late in the morning," grinned Bindle.</p> + +<p>At six-thirty, Mr. Jabez Stiffson arrived with a bewildering +collection of impedimenta, ranging from a canary in a cage to a +thermos flask.</p> + +<p>Bindle put all he could in the double-bedded room, the rest +he managed to store in the kitchen. A slight difficulty arose over +the canary, Mr. Stiffson suggested the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't 'e sort o' feel lonely without seein' you when 'e +opened 'is little eyes?" questioned Bindle solicitously. "A cove +I knew once 'ad a canary which 'ad a fit through bein' lonely, +and they 'ad to throw water over 'im to bring 'im to, an' then +wot d'you think, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson shook his head in mournful foreboding.</p> + +<p>"'E come to a sparrow, 'e did really, sir."</p> + +<p>That settled the canary, who slept with Mr. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>It was nearly eight before Mr. Stiffson was settled, and he +announced his intention of going out to dine. At ten he was +ready for bed, having implored Bindle to see that he was up by +eight as Mrs. Stiffson would inevitably arrive at ten.</p> + +<p>"I'm a very heavy sleeper," he announced, to Bindle's great +relief. "And my watch has stopped," he added; "some dirt +must have got into the works. If Mrs. Stiffson were to arrive +before I was up——" He did not venture to state what would +be the probable consequence; but his manner implied that Mrs. +Stiffson was a being of whom he stood in great awe.</p> + +<p>Just as Bindle was leaving him for the night, Mr. Stiffson +called him back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Porter, I'm worried about Oscar." Bindle noticed that Mr. +Stiffson's hands were moving nervously.</p> + +<p>"Are you really, sir?" enquired Bindle, wondering who Oscar +might be.</p> + +<p>"The bird, you know," continued Mr. Stiffson, answering +Bindle's unuttered question. "You—you don't think it will be +unhygienic for him to sleep with me?"</p> + +<p>"Sure of it, sir," replied Bindle, entirely at a loss as to Mr. +Stiffson's meaning.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson sighed his relief and bade Bindle good night, with +a final exhortation as to waking him at eight. "You know," he +added, "I always sleep through air-raids."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson's bugbear in life was lest he should over-sleep. +He seldom failed to wake of his own accord; but, constitutionally +lacking in self-reliance, he felt that at any moment he might +commit the unpardonable sin of over-sleeping.</p> + +<p>Bindle returned to his room to await the arrival of Miss Cissie +Boye.</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight when his alert ear caught the sound +of a taxi drawing up outside. As he opened the outer door, Miss +Cissie Boye appeared at the top of the stone-steps.</p> + +<p>Bindle caught a glimpse of a dainty little creature in a long +travelling coat with fur at the collar, cuffs and round the bottom, +a small travelling hat and a thick veil.</p> + +<p>"Oh, can you help with my luggage?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Right-o, miss! You go in there and sit by the fire. We'll 'ave +things right in a jiffy;" and Bindle proceeded to tackle Miss +Boye's luggage, which consisted of a large dress-basket, a suit-case +and a bundle of rugs and umbrellas. When these had been placed +in the hall, and the taxi-man paid, Bindle went into his lodge.</p> + +<p>Miss Boye was sitting before the fire, her coat thrown open +and her veil thrown back. Between her dainty fingers she held +a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"So that's that!" she cried. "I'm so tired, Mr. Porter."</p> + +<p>Bindle regarded her with admiration. Honey-coloured, fluffy +hair, blue eyes, dark eyebrows and lashes, pretty, petite features, +and a manner that suggested half baby, half woman-of-the-world,—Bindle +found her wholly alluring.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid we can't get that little picnic 'amper of yours +upstairs to-night, miss," he remarked.</p> + +<p>Miss Boye laughed. "Isn't it huge?" she cried. "It needn't +go up till the morning. I've all I want in the suit-case."</p> + +<p>"You must 'ave a rare lot o' duds, miss," remarked Bindle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Duds?" interrogated Miss Boye.</p> + +<p>"Clothes, miss," explained Bindle.</p> + +<p>Miss Boye laughed lightly. Miss Boye laughed at everything.</p> + +<p>"Now I must go to bed. I've got a 'call' to-morrow at eleven."</p> + +<p>As they went upstairs, Bindle learnt quite a lot about Miss +Boye, among other things that she was appearing in the revue +at the Regent Theatre known as "Kiss Me Quick," that she never +ate suppers, that she took a warm bath every morning, and liked +coffee, bacon and eggs and strawberry jam for breakfast.</p> + +<p>"You'll be very quiet, miss, in the flat, won't you?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Sure," replied Miss Boye.</p> + +<p>"They're such a funny lot 'ere," he explained. "If a fly wakes +up too early, or a bird 'as a nightmare, they comes down an' +complains next mornin'."</p> + +<p>Miss Boye laughed.</p> + +<p>"'Ush! miss, please," whispered Bindle as he switched on +the electric light in the hall of Number Six.</p> + +<p>Bindle showed the new tenant the sitting-room, bathroom, +kitchen, and finally her own bedroom.</p> + +<p>"You will be quiet, miss, won't you?" Bindle interrogated +anxiously, "or you may wake Oscar?"</p> + +<p>"Who's Oscar?" queried Miss Boye.</p> + +<p>"You'll see 'im in the mornin', miss," replied Bindle with a +grin. "Good night, miss."</p> + +<p>"Good night, Mr. Porter," smiled Miss Boye, and she closed the +door.</p> + +<p>"Now I wonder if anythink will 'appen before Ole Whiskers +gets up in the mornin'," mused Bindle as he descended the +stairs to his room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE DOWNFALL OF MR. JABEZ STIFFSON</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>The next morning Bindle let Mrs. Sedge in at her usual +time, seven o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Now mind, mother," he said, "four eggs and plenty +o' bacon an' coffee, Number Six 'as got a appetite; 'ad no supper, +pore gal."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Sedge grunted. Kilburn Cemetery had a depressing effect +upon her.</p> + +<p>"I'll take it up myself," remarked Bindle casually.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sedge eyed him deliberately.</p> + +<p>"She's pretty, then," she said. "Ain't you men jest all alike!" +She proceeded to shake her head in hopeless despair.</p> + +<p>Bindle stood watching her as she descended to the Harts' +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"She's got an 'ead-piece on 'er, 'as ole Sedgy," he muttered. +"Fancy 'er a-tumblin' to it like that, an' 'er still 'alf full o' +Royal Richard."</p> + +<p>Having prepared and eaten his own breakfast, Bindle sat down +and waited. At five minutes past nine he rose.</p> + +<p>"It's time Oscar an' Ole Whiskers was up an' doin'," he +murmured as he stood in front of the dingy looking-glass over +the fireplace. "Joe Bindle, there's a-goin' to be rare doin's in +Number Six to-day, and it may mean that you'll lose your job, +you ole reprobate."</p> + +<p>At the head of the stairs of the second floor Bindle stopped +as if he had been shot.</p> + +<p>"'Old me, 'Orace!" he muttered. "If it ain't 'er!"</p> + +<p>Running towards him was Miss Boye in a white silk wrapper, +a white lace matinée cap, her stockingless feet thrust into dainty +slippers.</p> + +<p>Bindle eyed her appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Porter!" she cried breathlessly, "there's a man in +my bath."</p> + +<p>"A wot, miss?" enquired Bindle in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"A man, I heard him splashing and I peeped in,—I only just +peeped, you know, Mr. Porter,—and there was a funny little +man in spectacles with whiskers. Isn't it lovely!" she cried, +clapping her hands gleefully. "Where could he have come from?"</p> + +<p>"Well, personally myself, I shouldn't call 'im lovely," muttered +Bindle. "I s'pose it's only a matter o' taste."</p> + +<p>"But where did he come from?" persisted Cissie Boye excitedly.</p> + +<p>"'E must 'ave been left be'ind by the other tenant," said +Bindle, grinning widely. "I must see into this. Now you'd +better get back, miss. You mustn't go 'opping about like this, +or I'll lose my job."</p> + +<p>"Why! Don't I look nice?" asked Miss Boye archly, looking +down at herself.</p> + +<p>"That's jest it, miss," said Bindle. "If Number Seven or +Number Eighteen was to see you like that, well, anythink might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +'appen. Now we'll find out about this man wot you think 'as +got into your bath."</p> + +<p>Followed by Miss Boye, Bindle entered the outer door of +Number Six. As he did so Mr. Stiffson emerged from the bathroom +in a faded pink bath-robe and yellow felt slippers, with a +towel over his shoulder and a sponge in his hand. He gave one +startled glance past Bindle at Cissie Boye and, with a strange +noise in his throat, turned and fled back to the bathroom, bolting +the door behind him.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he a scream!" gurgled Miss Boye. "Oh, what would +Bobbie say?"</p> + +<p>Like a decree of fate Bindle marched up to the bathroom door +and knocked imperiously.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" inquired Mr. Stiffson in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>"It's me," responded Bindle sternly. "Open the door, sir, <i>if</i> +you please. I can't 'ave you a-frightening this young lady."</p> + +<p>"Tell her to go away, and then I'll come out," was the response.</p> + +<p>Miss Boye giggled.</p> + +<p>"You'd better come out, sir." There was decision in Bindle's +voice.</p> + +<p>"I'll go into my room," she whispered, "and then I'll come out +again, see?"</p> + +<p>Bindle did see, and nodded his head vigorously. Miss Boye +disappeared.</p> + +<p>"She ain't 'ere now, sir," he said, "so you'd better come +out."</p> + +<p>The bathroom door was cautiously opened, and Mr. Stiffson +looked out with terror-dilated eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is she really——?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she is," said Bindle reassuringly. "Fancy you +bein' afraid of a pretty little bit o' fluff like that."</p> + +<p>"But—but—she was in her——"</p> + +<p>"Of course she was, she was goin' to 'ave a rinse in there," +Bindle indicated the bathroom with his thumb, "when you +frightened 'er. Dirty trick a-frightening of a pretty gal like that."</p> + +<p>With affected indifference Bindle strolled over to the bathroom, +looked in and then stood before the door.</p> + +<p>"Look! there she is again!" almost shrieked Mr. Stiffson, +dashing for Bindle and endeavouring to get past him into the +bathroom.</p> + +<p>"There, there, sir," said Bindle soothingly, "you're a very +lucky cove, only you don't seem to know it."</p> + +<p>"But—but—Mrs. Stiffson——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was terror in Mr. Stiffson's voice. On his forehead beads +of perspiration glistened.</p> + +<p>"What the wife don't see the 'usband don't 'ave to explain," +remarked Bindle oracularly.</p> + +<p>"But she's in my flat," persisted Mr. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you naughty old thing!" cried Cissie Boye. "It's you +who are in my flat."</p> + +<p>"But I came in last night," quavered Mr. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>"So did I—didn't I, Mr. Porter?" She turned to Bindle for +corroboration.</p> + +<p>"Take my dyin' oath on it, miss," said Bindle.</p> + +<p>"But——" began Mr. Stiffson, then stopped, at loss how to +proceed.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere," said Bindle pleasantly, "there's been a little +mistake, sort of a misunderstandin', an' things 'ave got a bit +mixed. You can say it's me wot's done it if you like. Now +you'd better both get dressed an' come an' 'ave breakfast." +Then turning to Mr. Stiffson he said, "Don't you think o' meetin' +your missis on an empty stomach. I'm married myself, an' +Mrs. B.'s as 'ot as ginger when there's another bit o' skirt +about."</p> + +<p>Cissie Boye slowly approached Mr. Stiffson. "You're surely +not afraid of little me, Mr. Man?" she enquired, looking +deliciously impudent.</p> + +<p>That was exactly what Mr. Stiffson was afraid of, and he edged +nearer to Bindle.</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. Stiffson——" he stammered, regarding Cissie Boye +like one hypnotised.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you naughty old thing!" admonished Miss Boye, enjoying Mr. +Stiffson's embarrassment. "You come into my flat, then talk about your +wife," and she laughed happily.</p> + +<p>"Now look 'ere, sir," said Bindle, "there's been a little mistake, +an' this young lady is willin' to forgive an' forget, an' you ain't +a-goin' to 'old out, are you? Now you jest run in an' get rid +o' them petticoats, come out lookin' like a man, an' then wot-o! +for a nice little breakfast which'll all be over before your missis +turns up at ten o'clock, see! You can trust me, married myself +I am," he added as if to explain his breadth of view in such +matters.</p> + +<p>"But I can't——" began Mr. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you can, sir, an' wot's more you'll like it." Bindle +gently propelled the protesting Mr. Stiffson past Cissie Boye +towards his room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't forget now, in a quarter of an hour, I'll be up with +the coffee an' bacon an' eggs. You're a rare lucky cove, sir, +only you don't know it."</p> + +<p>"I'm so hungry," wailed Cissie Boye.</p> + +<p>"Of course you are, miss," said Bindle sympathetically. "I'll +get a move on."</p> + +<p>"Oh! isn't he delicious," gurgled Cissie Boye. "Isn't he a +perfect scream; but how did he get here, Mr. Porter?"</p> + +<p>"Well, miss, the only wonder to me is that 'alf Fulham ain't +'ere to see you a-lookin' like that. Now you jest get a rinse +in your room an'——"</p> + +<p>"A rinse, what's that?" enquired Cissie.</p> + +<p>"You does it with soap an' water, miss, an' you might add +a bit or two of lace, jest in case the neighbours was to come in. +Now I must be orf. Old Sedgy ain't at 'er best after them 'alf +days with Royal Richard. Don't let 'im nip orf, miss, will you?" +Bindle added anxiously. "'E's that modest an' retirin' like, +that e' might try."</p> + +<p>At that moment Mr. Stiffson put his head out of his door. +"Porter!" he stammered, "Oscar has not had his breakfast; it's +on the kitchen mantelpiece." He shut the door hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"Oscar's got to wait," muttered Bindle as he hurried downstairs.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he had the gas-stove lighted in the sitting-room, +and coffee, eggs and bacon, bread and butter, strawberry +jam and marmalade ready on the table.</p> + +<p>Miss Boye emerged from her room, a vision of loveliness in a +pale-blue teagown, open at the throat, with a flurry of white lace +cascading down the front. There was a good deal of Cissie Boye +visible in spite of the lace. She still wore her matinée cap with +the blue ribbons, and Bindle frankly envied Mr. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>"Now, sir," he cried, banging at the laggard's door, "the +coffee and the lady's waitin', an' I want to feed Oscar."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson came out timidly. He evidently realised the importance of +the occasion. He wore a white satin tie reposing beneath a low collar +of nonconformity, a black frock-coat with a waistcoat that had been +bought at a moment of indecision as to whether it should be a morning +or evening affair, light trousers, and spats.</p> + +<p>"My, ain't we dressy!" cried Bindle, looking appreciatively +at Mr. Stiffson's trousers. "You got 'er beaten with them bags, +sir, or my name ain't Joe Bindle."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson coughed nervously behind his hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now," continued Bindle, "you got a good hour, then we +must see wot's to be done. I'll keep the Ole Bird away."</p> + +<p>"The Old Bird?" questioned Mr. Stiffson in a thin voice as +he opened the door; "but Oscar is only——"</p> + +<p>"I mean your missis, sir," explained Bindle. "You leave +'er to me."</p> + +<p>"Come on, Mr. Man," cried Cissie Boye, "don't be afraid, I +never eat men when there's eggs and bacon."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson motioned Bindle to accompany him into the +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"I got to see to Oscar," said Bindle reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Now sit down," ordered Cissie Boye. Mr. Stiffson seated +himself on the edge of the chair opposite to her. She busied +herself with the coffee, bacon and eggs. Mr. Stiffson watched +her with the air of a man who is prepared to bolt at any moment. +He cast anxious eyes towards the clock. It pointed to a quarter +to nine. Bindle had taken the precaution of putting it back an +hour.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Oscar burst into full song. Mr. Stiffson sighed his +relief. Oscar had had his breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Man, eat," commanded Cissie Boye, "and," handing +him a cup of coffee, "drink."</p> + +<p>"An' be merry, sir," added Bindle, who entered at the moment. +"You're 'avin' the time of your life, an' don't you forget it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson looked as if the passage of centuries would never +permit him to forget.</p> + +<p>"An' now I'll leave you little love-birds," said Bindle with +the cheerful assurance of a cupid, "an' go an' keep watch."</p> + +<p>"But——" protested Mr. Stiffson, half rising from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh! do sit down, old thing!" cried Cissie; "you're spoiling +my breakfast."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson subsided. Destiny had clearly taken a hand in the +affair.</p> + +<p>"Now you jest enjoy your little selves," apostrophized Bindle, +"an' then we'll try an' find out 'ow all this 'ere 'appened. It +does me, blowed if it don't."</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>"I'm not aware that I speak indistinctly." The voice was +uncompromising, the deportment aggressive. "I said 'Mr. Jabez +Stiffson.'"</p> + +<p>"You did, mum," agreed Bindle tactfully; "I 'eard you myself +quite plainly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then where is he? I'm Mrs. Stiffson."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stiffson was a tall woman of generous proportions. Her hair was +grey, her features virtuously hard, her manner overwhelming. Her +movements gave no suggestion of limbs, she seemed to wheel along with +a slight swaying of the body from side to side.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she interrogated.</p> + +<p>"'E's sort of engaged, mum," temporised Bindle, "'avin' +breakfast. I'll tell 'im you're 'ere. I'll break it gently to 'im. +You know, mum, joy sometimes kills, an' 'e don't look strong."</p> + +<p>Without a word Mrs. Stiffson wheeled round and, ignoring the +lift, marched for the stairs. As he followed, Bindle remembered +with satisfaction that he had omitted to close the outer door of +Number Six.</p> + +<p>Straight up the stairs, like "never-ending Time," marched +Mrs. Stiffson. She did not hurry, she did not pause, she climbed +evenly, mechanically, a model wife seeking her mate.</p> + +<p>Any doubts that Bindle may have had as to Mrs. Stiffson's +ability to find the husband she sought were set at rest by the +shrill pipings of Oscar. Even a trained detective could not have +overlooked so obvious a clue.</p> + +<p>Along the corridor, straight for Number Six moved Mrs. Stiffson, +Bindle in close attendance, fearful lest he should lose the +dramatic intensity of the arrival of "the wronged wife."</p> + +<p>Unconscious that Nemesis was marching upon him, Mr. Stiffson, +stimulated by the coffee, bacon and eggs, and the gay insouciance +of Cissie Boye, was finding the situation losing much of its terror +for him.</p> + +<p>No man for long could remain indifferent to the charming personality +of Cissie Boye. Her bright chatter and good looks, her innocence, +strangely blended with worldly wisdom, her daring garb; all combined +to divert Mr. Stiffson's mind from the thoughts of his wife, apart +from which the clock pointed to five minutes past nine, and Mrs. +Stiffson was as punctual as fate.</p> + +<p>Had he possessed the intuition of a mongoose, Mr. Stiffson +would have known that there was a snake in his grass.</p> + +<p>Instinct guiding her steps, Mrs. Stiffson entered the flat. Instead +of turning to the right, in the direction of the bedroom in which +Oscar was overdoing the thanksgiving business for bird-seed and +water, she wheeled to the left and threw open the sitting-room +door.</p> + +<p>From under Mrs. Stiffson's right arm Bindle saw the tableau. +Mr. Stiffson, who was facing the door, was in the act of raising<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +his coffee-cup to smiling lips. Cissie Boye, sitting at right angles +on his left, was leaning back in her chair clapping her hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you naughty old thing!" she was crying.</p> + +<p>At the sight of his wife, Mr. Stiffson's jaw dropped and the +coffee-cup slipped from his nerveless hands. It struck the edge +of the table and emptied its contents down the opening of his +low-cut waistcoat.</p> + +<p>At the sight of the abject terror on Mr. Stiffson's face, Cissie +Boye ceased to clap her hands and, turning her head, met Mrs. +Stiffson's uncompromising stare and Bindle's appreciative grin.</p> + +<p>"Jabez!" It was like the uninflected accents of doom.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson shivered; that was the only indication he gave of +having heard. With unblinking eyes he continued to gaze at +his wife as if fascinated, the empty coffee-cup resting on his +knees.</p> + +<p>"Jabez!" repeated Mrs. Stiffson. "I thought I told you to +wear your tweed mixture to-day."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stiffson had a fine sense of the dramatic! The unexpectedness +of the remark caused Mr. Stiffson to blink his eyes like +a puzzled owl, without however removing them from his wife, +or changing their expression.</p> + +<p>Cissie Boye laughed, Bindle grinned.</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down?" It was Cissie Boye who spoke.</p> + +<p>"Silence, hussy!" There was no anger in Mrs. Stiffson's voice; +it was just a command and an expression of opinion.</p> + +<p>Cissie Boye rose, the light of battle in her eyes. Bindle pushed +past Mrs. Stiffson and stood between the two women.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, mum," he said, "we likes manners in this 'ere flat, +an' we're a-goin' to 'ave 'em, see! Sorry if I 'urt your feelin's. +This ain't a woman's club."</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, fool!" the deep voice thundered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you don't!" said Bindle cheerfully, looking up at +his mountainous antagonist. "You can't frighten me, I ain't +married to you. Now you jest be civil."</p> + +<p>"Listen!" cried Cissie Boye with flashing eyes. "Don't you +go giving me the bird like that, or——" She paused at a loss +with what to threaten her guest.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, miss," said Bindle, "You jest leave 'er to me; +I got one o' my own at 'ome. She's going to speak to me, +she is."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stiffson's efforts of self-control were proving unequal to +the occasion, her breathing became laboured and her voice +husky.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is my husband doing in this person's flat?" demanded +Mrs. Stiffson, apparently of no one in particular. There was +something like emotion in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, mum," responded Bindle, "'e was eatin' bacon an' +eggs an' drinking coffee."</p> + +<p>"How dare you appear before my husband like that!" Mrs. +Stiffson turned fiercely upon Cissie Boye. "You brazen creature!" +anger was now taking possession of her.</p> + +<p>"Here, easy on, old thing!" said Cissie Boye, seeing Mrs. +Stiffson's rising temper, and entirely regaining her own good +humour.</p> + +<p>"I repeat," said Mrs. Stiffson, "what is my husband doing in +your company?"</p> + +<p>"Ask him what he's doing in my flat," countered Cissie Boye +triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, mum," broke in Bindle in a soothing voice, "it's +no use a-playin' 'Amlet in a rage. You jest sit down and talk +it over friendly like, an' p'raps I can get a drop of Royal Richard +from old Sedgy. It's sort of been a shock to you, mum, I can +see. Well, things do look bad; anyhow, Royal Richard'll bring +you round in two ticks."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stiffson turned upon Bindle a look that was meant to +annihilate.</p> + +<p>Bindle glanced across at Mr. Stiffson, who was mechanically +rubbing the middle of his person with a napkin, his eyes still +fixed upon his wife.</p> + +<p>"Because your 'usband gets into the wrong duds," continued +Bindle, "ain't no reason why you should get into an 'owling +temper, is it?"</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door and, without waiting for a +reply, Mrs. Sedge entered, wearing a canvas apron and a crape +bonnet on one side and emitting an almost overpowering aroma +of Royal Richard. In her hands she carried a large bowl of +porridge. Marching across to the table, she dumped it down +in front of Mr. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>"Ain't that jest like a man, forgettin' 'alf o' wot 'e ought to +remember!" she remarked and, without waiting for a reply, she +stumped out of the room, banging the door behind her.</p> + +<p>Bindle sniffed the air like a hound.</p> + +<p>"That's Royal Richard wot you can smell, mum," he explained.</p> + +<p>Cissie Boye laughed.</p> + +<p>Ignoring the interruption, Mrs. Stiffson returned to the attack.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I demand an explanation!" Her voice shook with suppressed +fury.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" cried Cissie Boye, "if your boy will come and sleep +in my flat——"</p> + +<p>"Sleep in your flat!" cried Mrs. Stiffson in something between +a roar and a scream. "Sleep in your flat!" She turned upon +her husband. "Jabez, did you hear that? Oh! you villain, +you liar, you monster!"</p> + +<p>"But—but, my dear," protested Mr. Stiffson, becoming articulate, +"Oscar was here all the time."</p> + +<p>Cissie Boye giggled.</p> + +<p>"So that is why you have put on your best clothes, you +deceiver, you viper, you scum!"</p> + +<p>"Steady on, mum!" broke out Bindle. "'E ain't big enough +to be all them things; besides, if you starts a-megaphonin' like +that, you'll 'ave all the other bunnies a-runnin' in to see wot's +'appened, an' if you was to 'ear Number Seven's language, an' +see wot Queenie calls 'er face, Mr. S. might be a widower before +'e knew it."</p> + +<p>"Where did you meet this person?" demanded Mrs. Stiffson +of her husband, who, now that the coffee was cooling, began to +feel chilly, and was busily engaged in trying to extract the +moisture from his garments.</p> + +<p>"Where did you meet her?" repeated his wife.</p> + +<p>"In—in the bath-room," responded Mr. Stiffson weakly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stiffson gasped and stood speechless with amazement.</p> + +<p>"I heard a splashing," broke in Cissie Boye, "and I peeped +in,—I only just peeped in, really and really."</p> + +<p>"An' then we 'ad a little friendly chat in the 'all," explained +Bindle, "an' after breakfast we was goin' to talk things over, +an' see 'ow we could manage so that you didn't know."</p> + +<p>"Your bath-room!" roared Mrs. Stiffson at length, the true +horror of the situation at last seeming to dawn upon her. "My +husband in your bath-room! Jabez!" she turned on Mr. Stiffson +once more like a raging fury. "You heard! were you in this +creature's bath-room?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Stiffson paused in the process of endeavouring to extract +coffee from his exterior.</p> + +<p>"Er—er——" he began.</p> + +<p>"Answer me!" shouted Mrs. Stiffson. "Were you or were +you not in this person's bath-room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—er—but——" began Mr. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stiffson cast a frenzied glance round the room. Action<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +had become necessary, violence imperative. Her roving eye +lighted on the bowl full of half-cold porridge that Mrs. Sedge +had just brought in. She seized it and, with a swift inverting +movement, crashed it down upon her husband's head.</p> + +<p>With the scream of a wounded animal, Mr. Stiffson half rose, +then sank back again in his chair, his hands clutching convulsively +at the basin fixed firmly upon his head by the suction of +its contents. From beneath the rim the porridge gathered in large +pendulous drops, and slowly lowered themselves upon various +portions of Mr. Stiffson's person, leaving a thin filmy thread +behind, as if reluctant to cut off all communication with the basin.</p> + +<p>Bindle and Cissie Boye went to the victim's assistance, and +Bindle removed the basin. It parted from Mr. Stiffson's head +with a juicy sob of reluctance. Whilst his rescuers were occupied +in their samaritan efforts, Mrs. Stiffson was engaged in describing +her husband's character.</p> + +<p>Beginning with a request for someone to end his poisonous +existence, she proceeded to explain his place, or rather lack of +place, in the universe. She traced the coarseness of his associates +to the vileness of his ancestors. She enquired why he had not +been to the front (Mr. Stiffson was over fifty years of age), why +he was not in the volunteers. Then slightly elevating her head +she demanded of Heaven why he was permitted to live. She +traced all degradation, including that of the lower animals, to +the example of such men as her husband. He was the breaker-up +of homes, in some way or other connected with the increased +death-rate and infant mortality, the indirect cause of the Income +Tax and directly responsible for the war; she even hinted that +he was to some extent answerable for the defection of Russia from +the Allied cause.</p> + +<p>Whilst she was haranguing, Bindle and Cissie Boye, with the +aid of desert spoons, were endeavouring to remove the porridge +from Mr. Stiffson's head. It had collected behind his spectacles, +forming a succulent pad before each eye.</p> + +<p>Bindle listened to Mrs. Stiffson's tirade with frank admiration; +language always appealed to him.</p> + +<p>"Ain't she a corker!" he whispered to Cissie Boye.</p> + +<p>"Cork's out now, any old how," was the whispered reply.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Stiffson did a very feminine thing. She gave vent +to three short, sharp snaps of staccatoed laughter, and suddenly +collapsed upon the sofa in screaming hysterics.</p> + +<p>Cissie Boye made a movement towards her. Bindle laid an +arresting hand upon her arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You jest leave 'er be, miss," he said. "I know all about them +little games. She'll come to all right."</p> + +<p>"Where the hell is that damn porter?" the voice of Number +Seven burst in upon them from the outer corridor.</p> + +<p>"'Ere I am, sir," sang out Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Then why the corruption aren't you in your room?" bawled +Number Seven.</p> + +<p>Bindle slipped quickly out into the corridor to find Number +Seven bristling with rage.</p> + +<p>"Because Ole Damn an' 'Op it, I can't be in two places at +once," he said.</p> + +<p>Whilst Bindle was engaged with Number Seven, Mrs. Stiffson +had once more galvanised herself to action. Still screaming and +laughing by turn, she wheeled out of the flat with incredible +rapidity and made towards the lift.</p> + +<p>"Hi! stop 'er, stop 'er!" shouted Bindle, bolting after Mrs. +Stiffson, followed by Number Seven.</p> + +<p>"Police, police, murder, murder!" screamed Mrs. Stiffson. +She reached the lift and, with an agility that would have been +creditable in a young goat, slipped in and shut the gates with +a clang. Just as Bindle arrived the lift began slowly to descend. +In a fury of impatience, Mrs. Stiffson began banging at the +buttons, with the result that the lift stopped halfway between +the two floors.</p> + +<p>Bindle and Number Seven shouted down instructions; but without +avail. The lift had stuck fast. Mrs. Stiffson shrieked for +help, shrieked for the police, and shrieked for vengeance.</p> + +<p>"Damned old tiger-cat!" cried Number Seven. "Leave her +where she is."</p> + +<p>Bindle turned upon him a face radiating smiles.</p> + +<p>"Them's the best words I've 'eard from you yet, sir"; and he +walked upstairs to reassure the occupants of Number Six that +fate and the lift had joined the Entente against Mrs. Stiffson.</p> + +<p>It was four hours before Mrs. Stiffson was free; but Mr. Stiffson, +his luggage, his thermos flask and Oscar had fled. Cissie Boye +was at rehearsal and Bindle had donned his uniform. It was a +chastened Mrs. Stiffson who wheeled out of the lift and enquired +for her husband, and it was a stern and official Bindle who told +her that Mr. Stiffson had gone, and warned her that any further +attempt at disturbing the cloistral peace of Fulham Square Mansions +would end in a prosecution for disorderly conduct.</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Stiffson departed in search of her husband.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE CAMOUFLAGING OF MR. GUPPERDUCK</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Bindle as he pushed open one of the swing doors of the +public bar of The Yellow Ostrich. "I thought I should find my little +sunflower 'ere," and he grasped the hand that Ginger did not extend to +him. Demonstration was not Ginger's strong point.</p> + +<p>The members of the informal club that used to meet each Friday night +at The Scarlet Horse had become very uncertain in their attendance, +and the consequent diminution in the consumption of liquor had caused +the landlord to withdraw the concession of a private-room.</p> + +<p>Bindle had accepted the situation philosophically; but Ruddy Bill had +shown temper. In the public bar he had told the landlord what he +thought of him, finishing up a really inspired piece of decorated +rhetoric with "Yus, it's The Scarlet 'Orse all right; but there's a +ruddy donkey behind the bar," and with that he had marched out.</p> + +<p>From that date Bindle's leisure moments had been mostly spent +in the bar of The Yellow Ostrich. It was here that Ginger, when +free from his military duties, would seek Bindle and the two or +three congenial spirits that gathered round him. Wilkes would +cough, Huggles grin, and Ginger spit vindictive disapproval of +everyone and everything, whilst "Ole Joe told the tale."</p> + +<p>"There are times," remarked Bindle, when he had taken a long +pull at his tankard, "when I feel I could almost thank Gawd for +not bein' religious." He paused to light his pipe.</p> + +<p>Ginger murmured something that might have been taken either +as an interrogation or a protest.</p> + +<p>"I jest been 'avin' a stroll on Putney 'Eath," continued Bindle, +settling himself down comfortably in the corner of a bench. "I +likes to give the gals a treat now an' then, and who d'you +think I saw there?" He paused impressively, Ginger shook his +head, Huggles grinned and Wilkes coughed, Wilkes was always +coughing.</p> + +<p>"Clever lot o' coves you are," said Bindle as he regarded the +three. "Grand talkers, ain't you. Well, well! to get on with the +story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There was a big crowd, makin' an 'ell of a row, they was, +an' there in the middle was a cove talkin' an' wavin' 'is arms +like flappers. So up I goes, thinkin' 'e was sellin' somethink to +prove that you 'aven't got a liver, an' who should it turn out to +be but my lodger, Ole Guppy."</p> + +<p>"Wot was 'e doin'?" gasped Wilkes between two paroxysms.</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Bindle, "at that particular moment I got +up, 'e was talkin' about wot a fine lot o' chaps them 'Uns is, an' +wot an awful lot of Aunt Maudies we was. Sort o' 'urt 'is feelin's, +it did to know 'e was an Englishman when 'e might 'ave been an +'Un. 'E was jest a-sayin' somethink about Mr. Llewellyn John, +when 'e' disappears sudden-like, and then there was a rare ole +scrap.</p> + +<p>"When the police got 'im out, Lord, 'e was a sight! Never +thought ten minutes could change a cove so, and that, Ginger, +all comes about through being a Christian and talkin' about +peace to people wot don't want peace."</p> + +<p>"We all want peace." Ginger stuck out his chin aggressively.</p> + +<p>"Ginger!" there was reproach in Bindle's voice, "an' you a +soldier too, I'm surprised at you!"</p> + +<p>"I want this ruddy war to end," growled Ginger. "I don't +'old wiv war," he added as an after-thought.</p> + +<p>"Now wot does it matter to you, Ging, whether you're a-carrin' +a pack or a piano on your back?"</p> + +<p>"Why don't they make peace?" burst out Ginger irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ginger, Ginger! when shall I teach you that the only +way to stop a fight is to sit on the other cove's chest: an' we +ain't sittin' on Germany's chest yet. Got it?"</p> + +<p>"But they're willing to make peace," growled Ginger. "I don't +'old wiv 'angin' back."</p> + +<p>"Now you jest listen to me. Why didn't you make peace last +week with Pincher Nobbs instead o' fightin' 'im?"</p> + +<p>"'E's a ruddy tyke, 'e is," snarled Ginger.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle, "you can call the Germans ruddy +tykes. Pleasant way you got o' puttin' things, 'aven't you, +Ging? No; ole son, this 'ere war ain't a-goin' to end till you +got the V.C., that's wot we're 'oldin' out for."</p> + +<p>"They could make peace if they liked," persisted Ginger.</p> + +<p>"You won't get Llewellyn John to give in, Ging," said Bindle +confidently. "'E's 'ot stuff, 'e is."</p> + +<p>"Yus!" growled Ginger savagely. "All 'e's got to do is +to stay at 'ome an' read about wot us chaps are doin' out +there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now ain't you a regular ole yellow-'eaded 'Uggins," remarked +Bindle with conviction, as he gazed fixedly at Ginger, whose eyes +shifted about restlessly. "Why, 'e's always at work, 'e is. Don't +even 'ave 'is dinner-hour, 'e don't."</p> + +<p>"Wot!" Ginger's incredulity gave expression to his features. +"No dinner-hour?"</p> + +<p>"No; nor breakfast-time neither," continued Bindle. "There's +always a lot o' coves 'angin' round a-wantin' to talk about the +war an' wot to do next. When 'e's shavin' Haig'll ring 'im up, +'im a-standin' with the lather on, makin' 'is chin 'itch."</p> + +<p>Ginger banged down his pewter on the counter and ordered +another.</p> + +<p>"Then sometimes, when 'e's gettin' up in the mornin', George +Five'll nip round for a jaw, and o' course kings can go anywhere, +an' you mustn't keep 'em waitin'. So up 'e goes, an' there's +L.J. a-talkin' to 'imself as 'e tries to get into 'is collar, an' George +Five a-'elpin' to find 'is collar-stud when 'e drops it an' it rolls +under the chest o' drawers."</p> + +<p>Ginger continued to gaze at Bindle with surprise stamped on +his freckled face.</p> + +<p>"You got a kid's job to 'is, Ging," continued Bindle, warming +to his subject. "If Llewellyn John 'ops round the corner for a +drink an' to 'ave a look at the papers, they're after 'im in two +ticks. Why 'e's 'ad to give up 'is 'ot bath on Saturday nights +because 'e was always catchin' cold through nippin' out into the +'all to answer the telephone, 'im in only a smile an' 'is whiskers."</p> + +<p>Ginger spat, indecision marking the act.</p> + +<p>"Works like a blackleg, 'e does, an' all 'e gets is blackguardin'. +No," added Bindle solemnly, "don't you never change jobs with +'im, Ging, it 'ud kill you, it would really."</p> + +<p>"I don't 'old wiv war," grumbled Ginger, falling back upon +his main line of defence. "Look at the price of beer!" He gazed +moodily into the depths of his empty pewter.</p> + +<p>"Funny cove you are, Ging," said Bindle pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Ginger spat viciously, missing the spittoon by inches.</p> + +<p>"There ain't no pleasin' you," continued Bindle, digging into +the bowl of his pipe with a match stick. "You ain't willin' to +die for your country, an' you don't seem to want to live for the +twins."</p> + +<p>"Wot's the use o' twins?" demanded Ginger savagely. "Now +if they'd been goats——"</p> + +<p>"Goats!" queried Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Sell the milk," was Ginger's laconic explanation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They might 'ave been billy-goats," suggested Bindle.</p> + +<p>Ginger swore.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" remarked Bindle, as he rose, "you ain't never +goin' to be 'appy in this world, Ging, an' as to the next—who +knows! Now I must be orf to tell Mrs. B. wot they been a-doin' +to 'er lodger. S'long!"</p> + +<p>And he went out whistling "I'd Never Kissed a Soldier Till +the War."</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>"Where's Mr. Gupperduck?"</p> + +<p>There was anxious alarm in Mrs. Bindle's interrogation.</p> + +<p>"Well," responded Bindle, as he nodded to Mr. Hearty and +waved his hand to Mrs. Hearty, "I can't rightly say. 'E may +be 'appy with an 'arp in 'eaven, or 'e may be a-groanin' in an +'ospital with a poultice where 'is face ought to be. Where's +Millikins?" he demanded, looking round.</p> + +<p>"She's with her Aunt Rose," wheezed Mrs. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"What has happened, Joseph?" faltered Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Well, it ain't altogether easy to say," responded Bindle with +aggravating deliberation. "It ought to 'ave been a peace-meetin', +accordin' to plan; but some'ow or other things sort o' got mixed. +I ain't seen a scrap like it since that little bust-up in the country +when the lemonade went wrong."</p> + +<p>Bindle paused and proceeded to refill his pipe, determined to +keep Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle on tenter-hooks.</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Can't say!" Bindle sucked at his pipe, holding a lighted +match well down over the bowl. "I see 'im bein' taken orf on +a stretcher, an' wot 'e was wearin' wouldn't 'ave made a bathin' +suit for an 'Ottentot."</p> + +<p>"Did they kill 'im, Joe?" wheezed Mrs. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"You can't kill coves like Guppy, Martha," was Bindle's +response. "'E's got more lives than a rate-collector."</p> + +<p>"What happened, Joseph?" said Mr. Hearty. "I had meant +to go to that meeting myself." Mr. Hearty made the statement +as if Providence had interposed with the deliberate object of +saving his life.</p> + +<p>"Lucky for you, 'Earty, that you didn't," remarked Bindle +significantly. "You ain't no good at scrappin'. Well, I'll tell +you wot 'appened. Guppy seems to 'ave said a little too much +about the 'Uns, an' wot fine fellers they was, an' it sort o' give +them people wot was listenin' the pip, so they goes for Guppy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The cowards!" Mrs. Bindle snapped out the words venomously.</p> + +<p>"You got to remember, Lizzie," said Bindle with unwonted +seriousness, "that a lot o' those people 'ad lost them wot they +was fond of through this 'ere war, an' they wasn't keen to 'ear +that the 'Un is a sort o' picture-postcard, with a dove a-sittin' +on 'is 'elmet."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?" demanded Mrs. Bindle aggressively.</p> + +<p>"Well, I jest looked on," said Bindle calmly. "I've warned +Guppy more'n once that 'e'd lose 'is tail-feathers if 'e wasn't +careful; but 'e was that self-willed, 'e was. You can't throw +'Un-wash over crowds in this 'ere country without runnin' risks." +Bindle spoke with conviction.</p> + +<p>"But it's a free country, Joseph," protested Mr. Hearty rather +weakly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! 'Earty, 'Earty!" said Bindle, wagging his head despondently. +"When will you learn that no one ain't free to say to a +cove things wot make 'im wild, leastwise without bein' ready to +put 'is 'ands up."</p> + +<p>"But weren't any of his friends there?" enquired Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I see two of 'em," said Bindle with a reminiscent grin. +"They caught Ole Cap-an'-Whiskers jest as 'e was shinnin' up a +tree—rare cove for trees 'e seems. 'Auled 'im down they did. +Then 'e swore 'e'd never seen ole Guppy in all 'is puff, cried +about it, 'e did."</p> + +<p>"Peter!" muttered Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"That 'is name?" enquired Bindle. "Any'ow it didn't 'elp 'im, +for they pulled 'is whiskers out and dipped 'im in the pond, +an' when last I see 'im 'e was wearin' jest a big bruise, a soft +collar an' such bits of 'is trousers as the boys didn't seem to +want. Made me blush it did."</p> + +<p>"Serve him right!" cried Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at her curiously. "Thought you was sort o' +pals with 'im," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"He was a traitor, a Peter betraying his master." Bindle +looked puzzled, Mr. Hearty nodded his head in approval.</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Wayskin there?" asked Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"The little chap with the glasses an' a beard too big for 'im, +wot goes about with Ole Cap-an'-Whiskers?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'e got orf, trousers an' all," said Bindle with a grin. +"Nippy little cove 'e was," he added.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the brutes!" exclaimed Mrs. Bindle. "The cowards!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle, "it all come about through 'im +tryin' to give 'em treacle when they wanted curry."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's gone home!" Mrs. Bindle half rose as the +thought struck her.</p> + +<p>"Who, Guppy?" interrogated Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Gupperduck," said Mrs. Bindle eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Guppy ain't never comin' back to my place," Bindle +announced with decision.</p> + +<p>"Where's he to sleep then?" demanded Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle judicially, "by wot I last see of 'im, +'e ain't goin' to sleep much anywhere for some time"; and he +again launched into a harrowing description of Mr. Gupperduck's +plight when the police rescued him from the crowd.</p> + +<p>"I'll nurse him!" announced Mrs. Bindle with the air of a +Martha.</p> + +<p>"You won't do no such thing, Mrs. B."</p> + +<p>Even Mrs. Hearty looked at Bindle, arrested by the unwonted +determination in his voice. "You jest remember this, Mrs. +B.," continued Bindle, "if ever I catches Mr. Josiah Gupperduck, +or any other cove wot loves Germans as if they was 'ymns or +beer, round my place, things'll 'appen. Wot they done to 'im +on the 'Eath won't be nothink to wot I'll do to 'im in Fenton +Street."</p> + +<p>"You're a brute, Bindle!" was Mrs. Bindle's comment.</p> + +<p>"That may be; but you jest get 'is duds packed up, <i>includin'</i> +Wheezy Willie, an' give 'em to 'im when 'e calls. I ain't goin' +to 'ave no German spies round my back-yard. I ain't got no +money to put in tanks," Bindle added, "but I still got a fist to +knock down a cove wot talks about peace." Bindle rose and +yawned. "Now I'm orf. Comin', Mrs. B.?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not. I want to talk to Mr. Hearty," said Mrs. Bindle +angrily.</p> + +<p>"Well, s'long, all!" and Bindle went out, leaving Mrs. Bindle +and Mr. Hearty to mourn over the fallen Hector.</p> + +<p>A minute later the door half opened and Bindle thrust his +head round the corner. "Don't forget, Mrs. B.," he said with a +grin, "if I see Guppy in Fenton Street, I'll camelflage 'im, I will;" +and with that he was gone.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he remarked meditatively as he walked across +Putney Bridge, "wot 'appened to-night is wot Guppy 'ud call +'the peace wot passes all understandin'.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE TRAGEDY OF GIUSEPPI ANTONIO TOLMENICINO</h3> + + +<p>"'Ullo, Scratcher!" cried Bindle as the swing doors of The Yellow +Ostrich were pushed open, giving entrance to a small lantern-jawed +man, with fishy eyes and a chin obviously intended for a face three +sizes larger. "Fancy meetin' you! Wot 'ave you been doin'?"</p> + +<p>Bindle was engaged in fetching the Sunday dinner-beer according to the +time-honoured custom.</p> + +<p>Scratcher looked moodily at the barman, ordered a glass of +beer and turned to Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I changed my job," he remarked mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Wot jer doin'?" enquired Bindle, intimating to the barman +by a nod that his pewter was to be refilled.</p> + +<p>"Waiter," responded Scratcher.</p> + +<p>"Waiter!" cried Bindle, regarding him with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Yus; at Napolini's in Regent Street;" and Scratcher replaced +his glass upon the counter and, with a dexterous upward +blow, scattered to the winds the froth that bedewed his upper +lip.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bindle, finding solace in his refilled +tankard. "But don't you 'ave to be a foreigner to be a waiter? +Don't you 'ave to speak through your nose or somethink?"</p> + +<p>"Noooo!" In Scratcher's voice was the contempt of superior +knowledge. "Them furriners 'ave all gone to the war, or most +of 'em," he added, "an' so we get a look-in."</p> + +<p>"Wot d'you do?" enquired Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Oh! we jest take orders, an' serves the grub, an' makes out +the bills, an' gets tips. I made four pound last week, all but +twelve shillings," he added.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Then," proceeded Scratcher, warming to his subject, "they +often leaves somethin' in the bottles. Last night Ole Grandpa +got so squiffy, 'e cried about 'is mother, 'e did."</p> + +<p>"An' didn't it cost 'im anything?" enquired Ginger, who had +been an interested listener.</p> + +<p>"Not a copper," said Scratcher impressively, "not a brass +farden."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish this ruddy war was over," growled Ginger. "Four +pound a week, and a free drunk. Blast the war! I say, I don't +'old wiv killin'."</p> + +<p>"Then," continued Scratcher, "you can always get a bellyful. +There's——"</p> + +<p>"'Old 'ard, Scratcher," interrupted Bindle. "Wot place is it +you're talkin' about?"</p> + +<p>"Napolini's," replied Scratcher, looking at Bindle reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Go on, ole sport; it's all right," said Bindle resignedly. "I +thought you might 'ave got mixed up with 'eaven."</p> + +<p>"When you takes a stoo," continued Scratcher, "you can +always pick out a bit o' meat with your fingers—if it ain't too +'ot," he added, as if not wishing to exaggerate. "An' when it's +whitebait, you can pinch some when no one's lookin'. As for +potatoes, you can 'ave all you can eat, and soup,—well, it's +there."</p> + +<p>Scratcher's tone implied that Napolini's was literally running +with soup and potatoes.</p> + +<p>"Don't go on, Scratcher," said Bindle mournfully; "see wot +you're a-doin' to pore Ole Ging."</p> + +<p>"Then there's macaroni," continued Scratcher relentlessly, +"them bein' I-talians. Long strings o' white stuff, there ain't +much taste; but it fills up." Scratcher paused, then added reflectively, +"You got to be careful wi' macaroni, or it'll get down your collar; +it's that slippery."</p> + +<p>"I suppose ole Nap ain't wantin' anyone to 'elp mop up all +them things?" enquired Bindle wistfully.</p> + +<p>Scratcher looked at Bindle interrogatingly.</p> + +<p>"D'you think you could find your ole pal a job at Nap's?" +enquired Bindle.</p> + +<p>"You come down to-morrow mornin' about eleven," said +Scratcher with the air of one conferring a great favour. "Three +of our chaps was sacked a-Saturday for fightin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must be movin'," said Bindle, as he picked up the +blue and white jug with the crimson butterfly. "You'll see me +round at Nap's at eleven to-morrow, Scratcher, as empty as a +drum;" and with a "s'long," Bindle passed out of The Yellow +Ostrich.</p> + +<p>"Nice time you've kept me waiting!" snapped Mrs. Bindle, as +Bindle entered the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Sorry!" was Bindle's reply as he hung up his hat behind +the kitchen-door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Another time I shan't wait," remarked Mrs. Bindle, as she +banged a vegetable dish on the table.</p> + +<p>Bindle became busily engaged upon roast shoulder of mutton, +greens and potatoes.</p> + +<p>After some time he remarked, "I been after a job."</p> + +<p>"You lorst your job again, then?" cried Mrs. Bindle in accusing +tones. "Somethin' told me you had."</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't," retorted Bindle; "but I 'eard o' somethink +better, so on Monday I'm orf after a job wot'll be better'n +'Earty's 'eaven."</p> + +<p>Bindle declined further to satisfy Mrs. Bindle's curiosity.</p> + +<p>"You wait an' see, Mrs. B., you jest wait an' see."</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>On the following morning Bindle was duly enrolled as a waiter +at Napolini's. He soon discovered that, whatever the privileges +and perquisites of the fully-experienced waiter, the part of the +novice was one of thorns rather than of roses. He was attached +as assistant to a diminutive Italian, with a fierce upward-brushed +moustache. Bindle had not been three minutes under his direction +before he precipitated a crisis that almost ended in open +warfare.</p> + +<p>"Wot's your name, ole son?" he enquired. "Mine's Bindle—Joseph +Bindle."</p> + +<p>"Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino," replied the Italian with +astonishing rapidity.</p> + +<p>"Is it really?" remarked Bindle, examining his chief with +interest, as he proceeded deftly to lay a table. "Sounds like a +machine-gun, don't it?" Then after a pause he remarked quite +innocently, "Look 'ere, ole sport, I'll call you Kayser."</p> + +<p>In a flash Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino turned upon Bindle, +his moustache bristling like the spines of a wild-boar, and from +his lips poured a passionate stream of Southern invective.</p> + +<p>Unable to understand a word of the burning phrases of reproach +that eddied and flowed about him, Bindle merely stared. +There was a patter of feet from all parts of the long dining-room, +and soon he was the centre of an angry crowd of excited gesticulating +waiters, with Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino screaming his +fury in the centre.</p> + +<p>"Hi!" called Bindle to Scratcher, who appeared through the +service-door, just as matters seemed about to break into open +violence. "'Ere! Scratcher, wot's up? Call 'im orf."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wot did you call 'im, Joe?" enquired Scratcher, pushing +his way through the crowd.</p> + +<p>"I asked 'is name, an' then 'e went off like the 'mad minute,' +so I said I'd call 'im 'Kayser,' because of 'is whiskers."</p> + +<p>At the repetition of the obnoxious word, Giuseppi Antonio +Tolmenicino shook his fist in Bindle's face, and screamed more +hysterically than ever. He was white to the lips, at the corners +of his mouth two little points of white foam had collected, and +his eyes blinked with the rapidity of a cinematograph film.</p> + +<p>With the aid of three other waiters, Scratcher succeeded in +restoring peace. Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino's fortissimo +reproaches were reduced to piano murmurs by the explanation +that Bindle meant no harm, added to which Bindle apologised.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere," he said, genuinely regretful at the effect of his +remark, "'ow was I to know that you was that sensitive, you +lookin' so fierce too."</p> + +<p>The arrival of one of the superintendents put an end to the +dispute; but it was obvious that Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino +nourished in his heart a deep resentment against Bindle for his +unintentioned insult.</p> + +<p>"Fancy 'im takin' on like that," muttered Bindle, as he strove +to adjust a white tablecloth so that it hung in equal folds on all +sides of the table. "Funny things foreigners, as 'uffy as birds, +they are." Turning to Scratcher, who was passing at the moment, +he enquired, "Wot the 'ell am I a-goin' to call 'im?"</p> + +<p>"Call who?" enquired Scratcher, his mouth full of something.</p> + +<p>Bindle looked about warily. "Ole Kayser," he whispered. +"'E's that sensitive. Explodes if you looks at 'im, 'e does."</p> + +<p>Scratcher worked hard to reduce the contents of his mouth to +conversational proportions.</p> + +<p>"I can't never remember 'is name," continued Bindle. "Went +off like a rattle it did."</p> + +<p>"Don't know 'is name myself," said Scratcher after a gigantic +swallow. "'E's new."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't 'elp you much, ole son, if you did know it," said +Bindle with conviction. "Seemed to me like a patent gargle. +Never 'eard anythink like it."</p> + +<p>"'Ere!" said Bindle to Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino, who +was darting past on his way to another table. The Italian paused, +hatred smouldering in his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't remember that name o' yours, ole sport," said Bindle. +"Sorry, but I ain't a gramophone. Wot 'ave I got to call +you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Call me sair," replied Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino with +dignity.</p> + +<p>"Call you wot?" cried Bindle indignantly. "Call you wot?"</p> + +<p>"Call me sair," repeated the Italian.</p> + +<p>"Me call a foreigner 'sir!'" cried Bindle. "Now ain't you the +funniest ole 'Uggins."</p> + +<p>Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino cast upon Bindle a look of consuming +hatred.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere," remarked Bindle cheerfully, "if you goes about +a-lookin' like that, you'll spoil the good impression them whiskers +make."</p> + +<p>Murder flashed in the eyes of the Italian, as he ground out a +paralysing oath in his own tongue.</p> + +<p>"There's a-goin' to be trouble between me an' ole 'Okey-Pokey. +Pleasant sort o' cove to 'ave about the 'ouse."</p> + +<p>Customers began to drift in, and soon Bindle was kept busy +fetching and carrying for Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino, who +by every means in his power strove to give expression to the +hatred of Bindle that was burning in his soul.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first day,—it was in reality the early hours +of the next morning,—as Bindle with Scratcher walked from +Napolini's to the Tube, he remarked, "Well, I ain't 'ungry, +though I could drink a deal more; still I says nothink about that; +but as for tips, well, ole 'Okey-Pokey's pocketed every bloomin' +penny. When I asked him to divvy up fair, 'e started that +machine-gun in 'is tummy, rolled 'is eyes, an' seemed to be tryin' +to tell me wot a great likin' 'e'd taken to me. One o' these days +somethink's goin' to 'appen to 'im," added Bindle prophetically. +"'E ain't no sport, any'ow."</p> + +<p>"Wot's 'e done?" enquired Scratcher.</p> + +<p>"I offered to fight 'im for the tips, an' all 'e did was to turn on +'is rattle;" and Bindle winked at the girl-conductor, who clanged +the train-gates behind him.</p> + +<p>For nearly a week Bindle continued to work thirteen hours a +day, satisfying the hunger of others and quenching alien thirsts. +Thanks to judicious hints from Scratcher, at the same time he +found means of ministering to his own requirements. He tasted +new and strange foods; but of all his discoveries in the realm of +dietetics, curried prawns held pride of place. More than one +customer looked anxiously into the dark brown liquid, curious +as to what had become of the blunt-pointed crescents; but, disliking +the fuss attending complaint, he ascribed the reduction +in their number to the activities of the Food Controller.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>When, as occasionally happened in the absence of his chief, +Bindle came into direct contact with a customer and received +an order, he invariably found himself utterly at a loss.</p> + +<p>"Bouillabaisse de Marseilles, pommes sautées," called out one +customer. Bindle, who was hurrying past, came to a dead stop +and regarded him with interest.</p> + +<p>"D'you mind sayin' that again, sir," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Bouillabaisse de Marseilles, pommes sautées," repeated the +customer.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" was Bindle's comment.</p> + +<p>The customer stared, but before he had time to reply Bindle +was unceremoniously pushed aside by Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino, +who, pad in hand, bent over the customer with servile intentness.</p> + +<p>"Wot did 'e mean? Was 'e tellin' me 'is name?" enquired +Bindle of a lath-like youth, with frizzy hair and a face incapable +of expressing anything beyond a meaningless grin. It was +Scratcher, however, who told the puzzled Bindle that the customer +had been ordering lunch and not divulging his identity.</p> + +<p>"Bullybase de Marsales pumsortay is things to eat, Joe," he +explained; "you got to learn the mane-yu."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" was Bindle's sole comment. "Fancy +people eatin' things with names like that." He followed Giuseppi +Antonio Tolmenicino towards the "service" regions in response +to an imperious motion of his dark, well-greased head.</p> + +<p>When Bindle returned to the dining-room, after listening to +the unintelligible rebukes of his immediate superior, he found +himself beckoned to the side of the customer whose wants he had +found himself unable to comprehend.</p> + +<p>"New to this job?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"You've 'it it, sir," was Bindle's reply. "New <i>as</i> new. I'm +in the furniture-movin' line myself; but Scratcher told me this +'ere was a soft job, an' so I took it on. 'E didn't happen to +mention 'Okey-Pokey 'owever."</p> + +<p>"Hokey-Pokey!" interrogated the guest.</p> + +<p>"That chap with 'is whiskers growin' up 'is nose," explained +Bindle. "All prickles 'e is. Can't say anythink without 'urtin' +'is feelin's. Never come across such a cove."</p> + +<p>Later, when the customer left, it was to Bindle and not to +Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino that he gave his tip. This precipitated +a crisis. Once out of the dining-room the Italian demanded +of Bindle the money.</p> + +<p>"You shall 'ave 'alf, ole son," said Bindle magnanimously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +"if you forks out 'alf of wot you've 'ad given you, see?" +Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino did not see. His eyes snapped, +his moustache bristled, his sallow features took on a shade of +grey and, discarding English, he launched into a torrent of words +in his own tongue.</p> + +<p>Bindle stood regarding his antagonist much as he would a +juggler, or quick-change artist. His good-humoured calm seemed +to goad Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino to madness. With a sudden +movement he seized a bottle from another waiter and, brandishing +it above his head, rushed at Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle stepped swiftly aside; but in doing so managed to +place his right foot across Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino's path. +The Italian lurched forward, bringing down the bottle with paralysing +force upon the shoulder of another waiter, who, heavily +laden, was making towards the dining-room.</p> + +<p>The assaulted waiter screamed, Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino +rolled on the floor, and the assaulted waiter's burden fell with a +crash on top of him. The man who had been struck hopped +about the room holding his shoulder, his shirt-front dyed a deep +red with the wine that had flowed over it.</p> + +<p>"Never see such a mess in all my puff," said Bindle in describing the +scene afterwards. "Pore ole 'Okey-Pokey comes down on 'is back and a +lot o' tomato soup falls on 'is 'ead. Then a dish o' whitebait gets on +top of that, so 'e 'as soup and fish any'ow. Funny thing to see them +little fishes sticking out o' the red soup. 'E got an 'erring down 'is +collar, and a dish of macaroni in 'is ear, an' all 'is clothes was +covered with different things. An 'ole bloomin' mane-yu, 'e was. 'Oly +Angels! but 'e was a sight."</p> + +<p>For a moment Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino lay inert, then +he slowly sat up and looked about him, mechanically picking +whitebait out of his hair, and removing a crème caramel from +the inside of his waistcoat.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his eyes lighted on Bindle.</p> + +<p>In an instant he was on his feet and, with head down and arms +waving like flails, he rushed at his enemy.</p> + +<p>At that moment the door leading into the dining-room was opened and, +attracted by the hubbub, Mr. James Smith, who before the war had been +known as Herr Siegesmann, the chief superintendent, entered. He was a +heavy man of ponderous proportions, with Dundreary whiskers and a +pompous manner. His entrance brought him directly into the line of +Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino's attack. Before he could take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> in the +situation, the Italian's head, covered with tomato soup and bristling +with whitebait, caught him full in the centre of his person, and he +went down with a sobbing grunt, the Italian on top of him.</p> + +<p>The shock released a considerable portion of the food adhering to +Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino on to the chief superintendent. Whitebait +forsook the ebon locks of the waiter and dived into the magnificent +Dundrearys of Herr Smith, and on his shirt-front was the impression of +Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino's features in tomato soup.</p> + +<p>Without a moment's hesitation Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino was on his +feet once more; but Bindle, feeling that the time had arrived for +action, was equally quick. Taking him from behind by the collar he +worked his right arm up as high as it would go behind his back. The +Italian screamed with the pain; but Bindle held fast.</p> + +<p>"You ain't safe to be trusted about, ole sport," he remarked, "an' I +got to 'old you, until Ole Whiskers decides wot's goin' to be done. +You'll get six months for wastin' food like this. Why, you looks like +a bloomin' restaurant. Look at 'im!" Bindle gazed down at the +prostrate superintendent. "Knocked 'is wind out, you 'ave. Struck 'im +bang in the solar-plexus, blowed if you didn't!"</p> + +<p>With rolling eyes and foaming mouth Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino +screamed his maledictions. A group of waiters was bending over Herr +Smith. One was administering brandy, another was plucking whitebait +out of his whiskers, a third was trying to wipe the tomato soup from +his shirt-front, an operation which transformed a red archipelago into +a flaming continent.</p> + +<p>When eventually the superintendent sat up, he looked like a +whiskered robin redbreast. He gazed from one to the other of +the waiters engaged upon his renovation. Then his eye fell upon +Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino. He uttered the one significant +British word.</p> + +<p>"Berlice!"</p> + +<p>When Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino left Napolini's that evening, it was +in the charge of two policemen, with two more following to be prepared +for eventualities. Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino was what is known +professionally as "violent." Not satisfied with the food that was +plastered upon his person, he endeavoured by means of his teeth to +detach a portion of the right thigh of Police-constable Higgins, and +with his feet to raise bruises where he could on the persons of his +captors.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pore ole 'Okey-Pokey!" remarked Bindle, as he returned +to the dining-room, where he had now been allotted two tables, +for which he was to be entirely responsible. "Pore ole 'Okey-Pokey. +I'm afraid I got 'is goat; but didn't 'e make a mess of +Ole Whiskers!"</p> + +<p>Herr Smith had gone home. When a man is sixty years of +age and, furthermore, when he has been a superintendent of a +restaurant for upwards of twenty-five years, he cannot with +impunity be rammed in the solar-plexus by a hard-headed and +vigorous Italian.</p> + +<p>While Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino in a cell at Vine Street +Police Station was forecasting the downfall of the Allies by the +secession of Italy from the Entente, Bindle was striving to satisfy +the demands of the two sets of customers that sat at his tables. +He made mistakes, errors of commission and omission; but his +obviously genuine desire to satisfy everybody inclined people +to be indulgent.</p> + +<p>The man who was waiting for pancakes received with a smile +half-a-dozen oysters; whilst another customer was bewildered +at finding himself expected to commence his meal with pancakes +and jam. When such errors were pointed out, Bindle would +scratch his head in perplexity, then, as light dawned upon him, +he would break out into a grin, make a dive for the pancakes +and quickly exchange them for the oysters.</p> + +<p>The names of the various dishes he found almost beyond him +and, to overcome the difficulty, he asked the customers to point +out on the menu what they required. Then again he found himself +expected to carry a multiplicity of plates and dishes.</p> + +<p>At first he endeavoured to emulate his confrères. On one +occasion he set out from the dining-room with three dishes containing +respectively "caille en casserole," a Welsh rarebit, and a +steak and fried potatoes. The steak and fried potatoes were for +a lady of ample proportions with an almost alarmingly low-cut +blouse. In placing the steak and metal dish of potatoes before +her, Bindle's eye for a second left the other two plates, which +began to tilt.</p> + +<p>The proprietor of the large-bosomed lady was, with the aid +of a fish-knife, able to hold in place the Welsh rarebit; but he +was too late in his endeavour to reach the under-plate on which +reposed the "caille en casserole," which suddenly made a dive +for the apex of the V of the lady's blouse.</p> + +<p>As she felt the hot, moist bird touch her, she gave a shriek and +started back. Bindle also started, and the lady's possessor lost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +his grip on the Welsh rarebit, which slid off the plate on to +his lap.</p> + +<p>Greatly concerned, Bindle placed the empty Welsh rarebit +plate quickly on the table and, seizing a fork, stabbed the +errant and romantic quail, replacing it upon its plate. He then +went to the assistance of the gentleman who had received the +Welsh rarebit face downwards on his lap.</p> + +<p>With great care Bindle returned it to the plate, with the exception +of such portions as clung affectionately to the customer's person.</p> + +<p>To confound confusion the superintendent dashed up full of +apologies for the customers and threatening looks for the cause +of the mishap. Bindle turned to the lady, who was hysterically +dabbing her chest with a napkin.</p> + +<p>"I 'ope you ain't 'urt, mum," he said with genuine solicitude; +"I didn't see where 'e was goin', slippery little devil!" and +Bindle regarded the bird reproachfully. Then remembering that +another was waiting for it, he crossed over to the table at which +sat the customer who had ordered "caille en casserole" and placed +the plate before him.</p> + +<p>The man looked up in surprise.</p> + +<p>"You'd better take that away," he said. "That bird's a bit +too enterprising for me."</p> + +<p>"A bit too wot, sir?" interrogated Bindle, lifting the plate to +his nose. "I don't smell it, sir," he added seriously.</p> + +<p>"I ordered 'caille en casserole,'" responded the man. "You +bring me 'caille en cocotte.'"</p> + +<p>"D'you mind saying that in English, sir?" asked Bindle, +wholly at sea.</p> + +<p>At that moment he was pushed aside by the owner of the +lady of generous proportions. Thrusting his face forward until +it almost touched that of the "caille" guest, he launched out +into a volley of reproaches.</p> + +<p>"Mon Dieu!" he shouted, "you have insulted that lady. You +are a scoundrel, a wretch, a traducer of fair women;" and he +went on in French to describe the customer's ancestry and +possible progeny.</p> + +<p>Throughout the dining-room the guests rose to see what was +happening. Many came to the scene of the mishap. By almost +superhuman efforts and an apology from the customer who had +ordered "caille en casserole," peace was restored and, at a motion +from the superintendent, Bindle carried the offending bird to the +kitchen to exchange it for another, a simple process that was +achieved by having it re-heated and returned on a clean plate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This 'ere all comes about through these coves wantin' foreign +food," muttered Bindle to himself. "If they'd all 'ave a cut +from the joint and two veges, it 'ud be jest as simple as drinkin' +beer. An' ain't they touchy too," he continued. "Can't say a +word to 'em, but what they flies up and wants to scratch each +other's eyes out."</p> + +<p>Tranquillity restored, Bindle continued his ministrations. For half an +hour everything went quietly until two customers ordered ginger beer, +one electing to drink it neat, and the other in conjunction with a +double gin. Bindle managed to confuse the two glasses. The customer +who had been forced to break his pledge was greatly distressed, and +much official tact on the part of a superintendent was required to +soothe his injured feelings.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me," muttered Bindle, "that I gets all the crocks. +If there's anythink funny about, it comes and sits down at one +o' my tables. Right-o, sir, comin'!" he called to an impatient +customer, who, accompanied by a girl clothed principally in +white boots, rouge and peroxide, had seated himself at the table +just vacated by a couple from the suburbs.</p> + +<p>The man ordered a generous meal, including a bottle of champagne. +Bindle attentively wrote down a phonetic version of the +customer's requirements. The wine offered no difficulty, it was +numbered.</p> + +<p>Bindle had observed that wine was frequently carried to customers in a +white metal receptacle, sometimes containing hot water, at others +powdered ice. No one had told him of the different treatment accorded +to red and white wines. Desirous of giving as little trouble as +possible to his fellows, he determined on this occasion to act on his +own initiative. Obtaining a wine-cooler, he had it filled with hot +water and, placing the bottle of champagne in it, hurried back to the +customer.</p> + +<p>Placing the wine-cooler on a service-table, he left it for a few +minutes, whilst he laid covers for the new arrivals.</p> + +<p>The lady thirstily demanded the wine. Bindle lifted it from +its receptacle, wound a napkin round it as he had seen others do +and, nippers in hand, carried it to the table.</p> + +<p>He cut the wires. Suddenly about half a dozen different things +seemed to happen at the same moment. The cork leapt joyously +from the neck of the bottle and, careering across the room, caught +the edge of the monocle of a diner and planted it in the soup +of another at the next table, just as he was bending down to +take a spoonful. The liquid sprayed his face. He looked up +surprised, not having seen the cause. He who had lost the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +monocle began searching about in a short-sighted manner for his +lost property.</p> + +<p>The cork, continuing on its way, took full in the right eye a +customer of gigantic proportions. He dropped his knife and fork +and roared with pain. Bindle watched the course of the cork in +amazement, holding the bottle as a fireman does the nozzle of +a hose. From the neck squirted a stream of white foam, catching +the lady of the white boots, rouge and peroxide full in the face. +She screamed.</p> + +<p>"You damn fool!" yelled the man to Bindle.</p> + +<p>In his amazement Bindle turned suddenly to see from what +quarter this rebuke had come, and the wine caught the man +just beneath the chin. Never had champagne behaved so in +the whole history of Napolini's. A superintendent rushed up and, +with marvellous presence of mind, seized a napkin and stopped +the stream. Then he snatched the bottle from Bindle's hands, +at the same time calling down curses upon his head for his +stupidity.</p> + +<p>The lady in white boots, rouge and peroxide was gasping and +dabbing her face with a napkin, which was now a study in pink +and white. Her escort was feeling the limpness of his collar and +endeavouring to detach his shirt from his chest. The gentleman +who had lost his monocle was explaining to the owner of the +soup what had happened, and asking permission to fish for the +missing crystal that was lying somewhere in the depths of the +stranger's mulligatawny.</p> + +<p>Bindle was gazing from one to the other in astonishment. +"Fancy champagne be'avin' like that," he muttered. "Might +'ave been a stone-ginger in 'ot weather."</p> + +<p>At that moment the superintendent discovered the wine-cooler +full of hot water. One passionate question he levelled at Bindle, +who nodded cheerfully in reply. Yes, it was he who had put the +champagne bottle in hot water.</p> + +<p>This sealed Bindle's fate as a waiter. Determined not to allow +him out of his sight again, the superintendent haled him off to +the manager's room, there to be formally discharged.</p> + +<p>"Ah! this is the man," said the manager to an inspector of +police with whom he was engaged in conversation as Bindle and +the superintendent entered.</p> + +<p>The inspector took a note-book from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"What is your name and address?" he asked of Bindle.</p> + +<p>Bindle gave the necessary details, adding, "I'm a special, +Fulham District. Wot's up?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You will be wanted at Marlborough Street Police Court to-morrow +at ten with regard to"—he referred to his note-book—"a +charge against Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino," said the inspector.</p> + +<p>"Wot's 'e goin' to be charged with, assault an' battery?" +enquired Bindle curiously.</p> + +<p>"Under the Defence of the Realm Act," replied the inspector. +"Documents were found on him."</p> + +<p>Bindle whistled. "Well, I'm blowed! A spy! I never did trust +them sort o' whiskers," he muttered as he left the manager's room.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later he left Napolini's for ever, whistling at the +stretch of his powers "So the Lodger Pawned His Second Pair +of Boots."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE RETURN OF CHARLIE DIXON</h3> + + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe! Charlie's back, and he's going to take us +out to-night, and I'm so happy."</p> + +<p>Bindle regarded the flushed and radiant face of Millie +Hearty, who had just rushed up to him and now stood holding +on to his arm with both hands.</p> + +<p>"I thought I should catch you as you were going home," she +cried. "Uncle Joe, I—I think I want to cry."</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle, "if you'll give your pore ole uncle +a chance to get a word in edgeways, 'e'd like to ask why you +wants to cry."</p> + +<p>"Because I'm so happy," cried Millie, dancing along beside +him, her hands still clasping his arm.</p> + +<p>"I see," replied Bindle drily; "still, it's a funny sort o' reason +for wantin' to cry, Millikins;" and he squeezed against his side +the arm she had now slipped through his.</p> + +<p>"You will come, Uncle Joe, won't you?" There was eager +entreaty in her voice. "We shall be at Putney Bridge at +seven."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't to-night, Millikins," replied Bindle. "I +got a job on."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe!" The disappointment in Millie's voice was +too obvious to need the confirmation of the sudden downward +droop of the corners of her pretty mouth. "You <i>must</i> come;" +and Bindle saw a hint of tears in the moisture that gathered in +her eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>He coughed and blew his nose vigorously before replying.</p> + +<p>"You young love-birds won't miss me," he remarked rather +lamely.</p> + +<p>"But we shan't go unless you do," said Millie with an air of +decision that was sweet to Bindle's ears, "and I've been so +looking forward to it. Oh, Uncle Joe! can't you really manage +it just to please <i>meeee</i>?"</p> + +<p>Bindle looked into the pleading face turned eagerly towards +him, at the parted lips ready to smile, or to pout their disappointment +and, in a flash, he realised the blank in his own life.</p> + +<p>"P'raps 'is Nibs might like to 'ave you all to 'imself for once," +he suggested tentatively. "There ain't much chance with a gal +for another cove when your Uncle Joe's about."</p> + +<p>Millie laughed. "Why, it was Charlie who sent me to ask you, +and to say if you couldn't come to-night we would put it off. +Oh! do come, Uncle Joe. Charlie's going to take us to dinner +at the Universal Café, and they've got a band, and, oh! it will +be lovely just having you two."</p> + +<p>"Well!" began Bindle, but discovering a slight huskiness in his +voice he coughed again loudly. "Seem to 'ave caught cold," he +muttered, then added, "Of course I might be able to put that +job orf."</p> + +<p>"But don't you want to come, Uncle Joe?" asked Millie, +anxiety in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Want to come!" repeated Bindle. "Of course I want to come; +but, well, I wanted to be sure you wasn't jest askin' me because +you thought it 'ud please your ole uncle," he concluded somewhat +lamely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe!" cried Millie, "how could you think anything +so dreadful. Why, wasn't it you who gave me Charlie?"</p> + +<p>Bindle looked curiously at her. He was always discovering in his +niece naïve little touches that betokened the dawn of womanhood.</p> + +<p>"Ain't we becomin' a woman, Millikins!" he cried, whereat +Millie blushed.</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much for promising to come," she cried. +"Seven o'clock at Putney Bridge Station. Don't be late, and +don't forget," she cried and, with a nod and a smile, she was +gone.</p> + +<p>Bindle watched her neat little figure as she tripped away. At +the corner she turned and waved her hand to him, then disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Now I don't remember promisin' nothink," he muttered. +"Ain't that jest Millikins all over, a-twistin' 'er pore ole uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +round 'er little finger. Fancy 'Earty 'avin' a gal like that." +He turned in the direction of Fenton Street. "It's like an old +'en 'avin' a canary. Funny place 'eaven," he remarked, shaking +his head dolefully. "They may make marriages there, but they +make bloomers as well."</p> + +<p>At five minutes to seven Bindle was at Putney Bridge Station.</p> + +<p>"Makes me feel like five pound a week," he murmured, looking +down at his well-cut blue suit, terminating in patent boots, the +result of his historical visit to Lord Windover's tailor. "A pair +o' yellow gloves and an 'ard 'at 'ud make a dook out of a +drain-man. Ullo, general!" he cried as Sergeant Charles Dixon +entered the station with a more than ever radiant Millie clinging +to his arm.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, steady now, young feller," cautioned Bindle as he +hesitatingly extended his hand. "No pinchin'!"</p> + +<p>Charlie Dixon laughed. The heartiness of his grip was notorious +among his friends.</p> + +<p>"I'm far too glad to see you to want to hurt you, Uncle Joe," +he said.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Joe!" exclaimed Bindle in surprise, "Uncle Joe!"</p> + +<p>"I told him to, Uncle Joe," explained Millie. "You see," +she added with a wise air of possession, "you belong to us both +now."</p> + +<p>"Wot-o!" remarked Bindle. "Goin'-goin' gone, an' cheap +at 'alf the price. 'Ere, no you don't!" By a dexterous dive he +anticipated Charlie Dixon's move towards the ticket-window. +A moment later he returned with three white tickets.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe!" cried Millie in awe, "you've booked first-class."</p> + +<p>"We're a first-class party to-night, ain't we, Charlie?" was +Bindle's only comment.</p> + +<p>As the two lovers walked up the stairs leading to the up-platform, +Bindle found it difficult to recognise in Sergeant Charles +Dixon the youth Millie had introduced to him two years previously +at the cinema.</p> + +<p>"Wonder wot 'Earty thinks of 'im now?" muttered Bindle. +"Filled out, 'e 'as. Wonderful wot the army can do for a feller," +he continued, regretfully thinking of the "various veins" that +had debarred him from the life of a soldier.</p> + +<p>"Well, Millikins!" he cried, as they stood waiting for the train, +"an' wot d'you think of 'is Nibs?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's lovely, Uncle Joe!" said Millie, blushing and +nestling closer to her lover.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not much chance for your ole uncle now, eh?" There was +a note of simulated regret in Bindle's voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe!" she cried, releasing Charlie Dixon's arm +to clasp with both hands that of Bindle. "Oh, Uncle Joe!" +There was entreaty in her look and distress in her voice. "You +don't think that, do you, <i>reeeeeally</i>!"</p> + +<p>Bindle's reassurances were interrupted by the arrival of the +train. Millie became very silent, as if awed by the unaccustomed +splendour of travelling in a first-class compartment with a first-class +ticket. She had with her the two heroes of her Valhalla +and, woman-like, she was content to worship in silence. As +Bindle and Charlie Dixon discussed the war, she glanced from +one to the other, then with a slight contraction of her eyes, she +sighed her happiness.</p> + +<p>To Millie Hearty the world that evening had become transformed +into a place of roses and of honey. If life held a thorn, +she was not conscious of it. For her there was no yesterday, +and there would be no to-morrow.</p> + +<p>"My! ain't we a little mouse!" cried Bindle as they passed +down the moving-stairway at Earl's Court.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe, I'm so happy!" she cried, giving his arm +that affectionate squeeze with both her hands that never failed +to thrill him. "Please go on talking to Charlie; I love to hear +you—and think."</p> + +<p>"Now I wonder wot she's thinkin' about?" Bindle muttered. +"Right-o, Millikins!" he said aloud. "You got two young men +to-night, an' you needn't be afraid of 'em scrappin'."</p> + +<p>As they entered the Universal Café, with its brilliant lights and +gaily chattering groups of diners Millie caught her breath. To +her it seemed a Nirvana. Brought up in the narrow circle of +Mr. Hearty's theological limitations, she saw in the long dining-room +a gilded-palace of sin against which Mr. Hearty pronounced +his anathemas. As they stood waiting for a vacant table, she +gazed about her eagerly. How wonderful it would be to eat +whilst a band was playing—and playing such music! It made +her want to dance.</p> + +<p>Many glances of admiration were cast at the young girl who, +with flushed cheeks and parted lips, was drinking in a scene +which, to them, was as familiar as their own finger-nails.</p> + +<p>When at last a table was obtained, due to the zeal of a susceptible +young superintendent, and she heard Charlie Dixon order the +three-and-sixpenny dinner for all, she seemed to have reached the +pinnacle of wonder; but when Charlie Dixon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> demanded the wine-list and +ordered a bottle of "Number 68," the pinnacle broke into a thousand +scintillating flashes of light.</p> + +<p>She was ignorant of the fact that Charlie was as blissfully unaware as +she of what "Number 68" was, and that he was praying fervently that it +would prove to be something drinkable. Some wines were abominably +sour.</p> + +<p>"I've ordered the dinner; I suppose that'll do," he remarked with a +man-of-the-world air.</p> + +<p>Millie smiled her acquiescence. Bindle, not to be outdone in +savoir-faire, picked up the menu and regarded it with wrinkled brow.</p> + +<p>"Well, Charlie," he remarked at length, "it's beyond me. I s'pose it's +all right; but it might be the German for cat an' dog for all I know. +I 'opes," he added anxiously, "there ain't none o' them long white +sticks with green tops, wot's always tryin' to kiss their tails. Them +things does me."</p> + +<p>"Asparagus," cried Millie, proud of her knowledge, "I love it."</p> + +<p>"I ain't nothink against it," said Bindle, recalling his experience at +Oxford, "if they didn't expect you to suck it like a sugar stick. You +wants a mouth as big as a dustbin, if you're a-goin' to catch the +end."</p> + +<p>When the wine arrived Charlie Dixon breathed a sigh of relief, as he +recognised in its foam and amber an old friend with which he had +become acquainted in France.</p> + +<p>"Oh! what is it?" cried Millie, clasping her hands in excitement.</p> + +<p>"Champagne!" said Charlie Dixon.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie!" cried Millie, gazing at her lover in proud +wonder. "Isn't it—isn't it most awfully expensive?"</p> + +<p>Charlie Dixon laughed. Bindle looked at him quizzically.</p> + +<p>"Ain't 'e a knockout?" he cried. "Might be a dook a-orderin' +champagne as if it was lemonade, or a 'aporth an' a pen'orth."</p> + +<p>"But ought I to drink it, Uncle Joe?" questioned Millie doubtfully, +looking at the bubbles rising through the amber liquid.</p> + +<p>"If you wants to be temperance you didn't ought to——"</p> + +<p>"I don't, Uncle Joe," interrupted Millie eagerly; "but +father——"</p> + +<p>"That ain't nothink to do with it," replied Bindle. "You're +grown up now, Millikins, an' you got to decide things for yourself."</p> + +<p>And Millie Hearty drank champagne for the first time.</p> + +<p>When coffee arrived, Charlie Dixon, who had been singularly +quiet during the meal, exploded his mine. It came about as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +the result of Bindle's enquiry as to how long his leave would +last.</p> + +<p>"Ten days," he replied, "and—and I want——" He paused +hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Out with it, young feller," demanded Bindle. "Wot is it that +you wants?"</p> + +<p>"I want Millie to marry me before I go back." The words +came out with a rush.</p> + +<p>Millie looked at Charlie Dixon, wide-eyed with astonishment; +then, as she realised what it really was he asked, the blood flamed +to her cheeks and she cast down her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh! but I couldn't, Charlie. Father wouldn't let me, and—and——"</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at Charlie Dixon.</p> + +<p>"Millie, you will, won't you, dear?" said Charlie Dixon. "I've +got to go back in ten days, and—and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie, I—I——" began Millie, then her voice broke.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, you kids," broke in Bindle. "It ain't no good +you two settin' a-stutterin' there like a couple of machine-guns; +you know right enough that you both want to get married, that +you was made for each other, that you been lying awake o' +nights wonderin' when you'd 'ave the pluck to tell each other so, +and 'ere you are——" He broke off. "Now look 'ere, Millikins, +do you want to marry Charlie Dixon?"</p> + +<p>Millie's wide-open eyes contracted into a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Uncle Joe, please," she answered demurely.</p> + +<p>"Now, Charlie, do you want to marry Millikins?" demanded +Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Ra<i>ther</i>," responded Charlie Dixon with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"Then wot d'you want to make all this bloomin' fuss about?" +demanded Bindle.</p> + +<p>"But—but it's so little time," protested Millie, blushing.</p> + +<p>"So much the better," said Bindle practically. "You can't +change your minds. You see, Millikins, if you wait too long, +Charlie may meet someone 'e likes better, or you may see a cove +wot takes your fancy more."</p> + +<p>The lovers exchanged glances and meaning smiles.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I understand all about that," said Bindle knowingly. "You're +very clever, ain't you, you two kids? You know everythink there is to +be known about weddin's, an' lovin' and all the rest of it. Now look +'ere, Millikins, are you goin' to send this 'ere boy back to France +un'appy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe!" quavered Millie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, you say you want to marry 'im, and 'e wants to marry you. If +you don't marry 'im before 'e goes back to the front, 'e'll be +un'appy, won't you, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"It will be rotten," said Charlie Dixon with conviction.</p> + +<p>"There you are, Millikins. 'Ow's 'e goin' to beat the Kayser if 'e's +miserable? Now it's up against you to beat the Kayser by marryin' +Charlie Dixon. Are you goin' to do it, or are you not?"</p> + +<p>They both laughed. Bindle was irresistible to them.</p> + +<p>"It's a question of patriotism. If you can't buy War Bonds, marry +Charlie Dixon, and do the ole Kayser in."</p> + +<p>"But father, Uncle Joe?" protested Millie. "What will he say?"</p> + +<p>"'Earty," responded Bindle with conviction, "will say about all the +most unpleasant and uncomfortable things wot any man can think of; but +you leave 'im to me."</p> + +<p>There was a grim note in his voice, which caused Charlie Dixon to look +at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"I ain't been your daddy's brother-in-law for nineteen years without +knowing 'ow to manage 'im, Millikins," Bindle continued. "Now you be a +good gal and go 'ome and ask 'im if you can marry Charlie Dixon at +once."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but I can't, Uncle Joe," Millie protested; "I simply can't. +Father can be——" She broke off.</p> + +<p>"Very well then," remarked Bindle resignedly, "the Germans'll beat +us."</p> + +<p>Millie smiled in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"I'll—I'll try, Uncle Joe," she conceded.</p> + +<p>"Now look 'ere, Millikins, you goes 'ome to-night and you +says to that 'appy-'earted ole dad o' yours 'Father, I'm goin' +to marry Charlie Dixon next Toosday,' or whatever day you +fix. 'E'll say you ain't goin' to do no such thing." Millie +nodded her head in agreement. "Well," continued Bindle, "wot +you'll say is, 'I won't marry no one else, an' I'm goin' to marry +Charlie Dixon.' Then you jest nips round to Fenton Street an' +leaves the rest to me. If you two kids ain't married on the day +wot you fix on, then I'll eat my 'at,—yes, the one I'm wearin' +an' the concertina-'at I got at 'ome; eat 'em both I will!"</p> + +<p>Millie and Charlie Dixon looked at Bindle admiringly.</p> + +<p>"You are wonderful, Uncle Joe!" she said. Then turning to +Charlie Dixon she asked, "What should we have done, Charlie, +if we hadn't had Uncle Joe?"</p> + +<p>Charlie Dixon shook his head. The question was beyond him.</p> + +<p>"We shall never be able to thank you, Uncle Joe," said Millie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'll thank me by bein' jest as 'appy as you know 'ow; +and if ever you wants to scrap, you'll kiss and make it up. Ain't +that right, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>Charlie Dixon nodded his head violently. He was too busily +occupied gazing into Millie's eyes to pay much attention to the +question asked him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are a darling, Uncle Joe!" said Millie. Then with +a sigh she added, "I wish I could give every girl an Uncle Joe."</p> + +<p>"Well, now we must be orf, 'ere's the band a-goin' 'ome, and +they'll be puttin' the lights out soon," said Bindle, as Charlie +Dixon called for his bill.</p> + +<p>As they said good night at Earl's Court Station, Charlie Dixon +going on to Hammersmith, Millie whispered to him, "It's been +such a wonderful evening, Charlie dear;" then rather dreamily +she added, "The most wonderful evening I've ever known. +Good-bye, darling; I'll write to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And you will, Millie?" enquired Charlie Dixon eagerly.</p> + +<p>She turned away towards the incoming Putney train, then +looking over her shoulder nodded her head shyly, and ran forward +to join Bindle, who was standing at the entrance of a first-class +carriage.</p> + +<p>As she entered the carriage Bindle stepped back to Charlie +Dixon.</p> + +<p>"You jest make all your plans, young feller," he said. "Let +me know the day an' she'll be there."</p> + +<p>Charlie Dixon gripped Bindle's hand. Bindle winced and +drew up one leg in obvious pain at the heartiness of the young +lover's grasp.</p> + +<p>"There are times, young feller, when I wish I was your enemy," +he said as he gazed ruefully at his knuckles. "Your friendship +'urts like 'ell."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>MR. HEARTY YIELDS</h3> + + +<p>"Gawd started makin' a man, an' then, sort o' losin' +interest, 'E made 'Earty. That's wot I think o' your +brother-in-law, Mrs. B."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle paused in the operation of lifting an iron from +the stove and holding its face to her cheek to judge as to its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +degree of heat. There was a note of contemptuous disgust in +Bindle's voice that was new to her.</p> + +<p>"You always was jealous of him," she remarked, rubbing a +piece of soap on the face of the iron and polishing it vigorously +upon a small square of well-worn carpet kept for that purpose. +"'E's got on and you haven't, and there's an end of it;" and +she brought down the iron fiercely upon a pillow-case.</p> + +<p>"Wot d'you think 'e's done now?" demanded Bindle, as he +went to the sink and filled a basin for his evening "rinse." +Plunging his face into the water, with much puffing and blowing +he began to lather it with soapy hands. He had apparently +entirely forgotten his question.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" enquired Mrs. Bindle at length, too curious +longer to remain quiet.</p> + +<p>Bindle turned from the sink, soap-suds forming a rim round +his face and filling his tightly-shut eyes. He groped with hands +extended towards the door behind which hung the roller-towel. +Having polished his face to his entire satisfaction, he walked +towards the door leading into the passage.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's he done now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle again +with asperity.</p> + +<p>"'E says Millikins ain't goin' to marry Charlie Dixon." There +was anger in Bindle's voice.</p> + +<p>"You're a nice one," commented Mrs. Bindle, "Always sneerin' +at marriage, an' now you're blaming Mr. Hearty because he +won't——"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" Bindle wheeled round, his good-humour +re-asserting itself, "I 'adn't thought o' that."</p> + +<p>Having cleared away her ironing, Mrs. Bindle threw the white +tablecloth over the table with an angry flourish.</p> + +<p>"Now ain't that funny!" continued Bindle, as if highly amused +at Mrs. Bindle's discovery. "Now ain't that funny!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Seems to amuse you," she retorted acidly.</p> + +<p>"It does, Mrs. B.; you've jest 'it it. One o' the funniest things +I ever come across. 'Ere's me a-tellin' everybody about this +chamber of 'orrors wot we call marriage, an' blest if I ain't +a-tryin' to shove poor ole Charlie Dixon in an' shut the door +on 'im." Bindle grinned expansively.</p> + +<p>"Supper'll be ready in five minutes," said Mrs. Bindle with +indrawn lips.</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" cried Bindle as he made for the door. "I'm goin' +to get into my uniform before I 'ops around to see 'Earty. It's +wonderful wot a bit o' blue cloth and a peak cap'll do with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +cove like 'Earty, specially when I 'appens to be inside. Yes! +Mrs. B.," he repeated as he opened the door, "you're right; it +does amuse me," and he closed the door softly behind him. +Mrs. Bindle expressed her thoughts upon the long-suffering +table-appointments.</p> + +<p>When Bindle returned in his uniform, supper was ready. For +some time the meal proceeded in silence.</p> + +<p>"Funny thing," he remarked at length, "I can swallow most +things from stewed-steak to 'alf-cooked 'ymns, but 'Earty jest +sticks in my gizzard."</p> + +<p>"You're jealous, that's what you are," remarked Mrs. Bindle +with conviction.</p> + +<p>"A man wot could be jealous of 'Earty." said Bindle, "ain't +safe to be let out, only on a chain. Why don't 'e try an' bring +a little 'appiness down 'ere instead o' sayin' it's all in 'eaven, +with you an' 'im a-sittin' on the lid. Makes life like an 'addock +wot's been rejooced in price, it does."</p> + +<p>"What are you goin' to say to Mr. Hearty?" enquired Mrs. +Bindle suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Bindle, "that depends rather on wot 'Earty's +goin' to say to me."</p> + +<p>"You've no right to interfere in his affairs."</p> + +<p>"You're quite right, Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle, "that's wot +makes it so pleasant. I 'aven't no right to punch 'Earty's 'ead; +but one of these days I know I shall do it. Never see an 'ead +in all my life wot looked so invitin' as 'Earty's. Seems to be +crying-out to be punched, it does."</p> + +<p>"You didn't ought to go round upsetting him," said Mrs. +Bindle aggressively. "He's got enough troubles."</p> + +<p>"'E's goin' to 'ave another to-night, Mrs. B.; an' if 'e ain't +careful, 'e'll probably 'ave another to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle banged the lid on a dish.</p> + +<p>"You ain't against them kids a-gettin' married, are you?" +Bindle demanded. "You used to be sort of fond of Millikins."</p> + +<p>"No! I'm not against it; but I'm not goin' to interfere in +Mr. Hearty's affairs," said Mrs. Bindle virtuously.</p> + +<p>"Well, I <i>am</i>," said Bindle grimly, as he rose and reached +for his cap. A moment later he left the room, whistling cheerily.</p> + +<p>At the Heartys' house Millie opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe!" she cried, "I wondered whether you would +come."</p> + +<p>"Course I'd come, Millikins," said Bindle. "Now you jest +run and tell your father that I want to 'ave a little talk with 'im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +in the drawing-room, then you'll turn on the light an' be'ave as +if I was a real lemonade-swell."</p> + +<p>Millie smiled tremulously and led the way upstairs. Ushering +Bindle into the drawing-room, she switched on the light and +went out, gently closing the door behind her.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later Mr. Hearty entered. From the movement +of his fingers, it was obvious that he was ill at ease.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, 'Earty!" said Bindle genially.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Joseph," responded Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Trade good?" enquired Bindle conversationally.</p> + +<p>"Quite good, thank you, Joseph," was the response.</p> + +<p>"Goin' to open any more shops?" was the next question.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty shook his head.</p> + +<p>Bindle sucked contentedly at his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down, 'Earty?" he asked solicitously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty sat down mechanically, then, a moment later, rose +to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Now, 'Earty," said Bindle, "you and me are goin' to 'ave a +little talk about Millikins."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty stiffened visibly.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't understand," he said.</p> + +<p>"You jest wait a minute, 'Earty, an' you'll understand a rare +lot. Now are you, or are you not, goin' to let them kids get +married?"</p> + +<p>"Most emphatically not," said Mr. Hearty with decision. +"Millie is too young; she's not twenty yet."</p> + +<p>"Now ain't you jest tiresome, 'Earty. 'Ere 'ave I been +arrangin' for the weddin' for next Toosday, and you go +and say it ain't comin' orf; you should 'ave told me this +before."</p> + +<p>"But Millie only asked me this morning," protested Mr. Hearty, +whose literalness always placed him at a disadvantage with +Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Did she really?" remarked Bindle. "Dear me! an' she knew +she was goin' to get married last night. Never could understand +women," he remarked, shaking his head hopelessly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty was at a loss. He had been prepared for unpleasantness; +but this geniality on the part of his brother-in-law he +found disarming.</p> + +<p>"I have been forced to tell you before, Joseph," he said with +some asperity, "that I cannot permit you to interfere in my +private affairs."</p> + +<p>"Quite right, 'Earty," agreed Bindle genially, "quite right,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +you said it in them very words." Bindle's imperturbability +caused Mr. Hearty to look at him anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you come here to-night and—and——?" He +broke off nervously.</p> + +<p>"I was always like that, 'Earty. Never seemed able to take +no for an answer. Now wot are you goin' to give 'em for a +weddin'-breakfast?" he enquired. "An' 'ave we got to bring +our own meat-tickets?"</p> + +<p>"I have just told you, Joseph," remarked Mr. Hearty angrily, +"that they are not going to be married."</p> + +<p>"Now ain't that a pity," remarked Bindle, as, having re-filled +his pipe, he proceeded to light it. "Now ain't that a pity. I been +and fixed it all up with Charlie Dixon, and now 'ere are you +a-upsettin' of my plans. I don't like my plans upset, 'Earty; I +don't really."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked at Bindle in amazement. This was to him +a new Bindle. He had been prepared for anything but this +attitude, which seemed to take everything for granted.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't make it a big weddin', 'Earty. There ain't time +for that, and jest a nice pleasant little weddin'-breakfast. A cake, +of course; you must 'ave a cake. No woman don't feel she's +married without a cake. She'd sooner 'ave a cake than an +'usband."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Joseph, that I shall not allow Millie to marry +this young man on Tuesday. I am very busy and I must——"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't go, 'Earty, if I was you. I shouldn't really; I +should jest stop 'ere and listen to wot I 'ave to say."</p> + +<p>"I have been very patient with you for some years past, +Joseph," began Mr. Hearty, "and I must confess——"</p> + +<p>"You 'ave, 'Earty," interrupted Bindle quietly, looking at him +over a flaming match, "you 'ave. If you wasn't wanted in +the greengrocery line, you'd 'ave been on a monument, you're +that patient. 'As it ever struck you, 'Earty,"—there was a +sterner note in Bindle's voice,—"'as it ever struck you that +sometimes coves is patient because they're afraid to knock the +other cove down?"</p> + +<p>"I refuse to discuss such matters, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty +with dignity.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, 'Earty! p'raps you're right," responded Bindle. +"Least said, soonest mended. So them kids ain't goin' to get +married on Toosday, you say," he continued calmly.</p> + +<p>"I thought I had made that clear." Mr. Hearty's hands shook +with nervousness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You 'ave, 'Earty, you 'ave," said Bindle mournfully.</p> + +<p>"What right have you to—to interfere in—in such matters?" +demanded Mr. Hearty, deliberately endeavouring to work himself +up into a state of indignation. "Millie shall marry when I +please, and her husband shall be of my choosing."</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at Mr. Hearty in surprise. He had never known +him so determined.</p> + +<p>"You think because you're Martha's brother-in-law,"—Mr. +Hearty was meticulously accurate in describing the exact relationship +existing between them,—"that gives you a right to—to order me about," +he concluded rather lamely.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, 'Earty!" said Bindle calmly, "if you goes on like +that, you'll be ill."</p> + +<p>"I have been meaning to speak to you for some time past," +continued Mr. Hearty, gaining courage. "Once and for all you +must cease to interfere in my affairs, if we are to—to continue—er——"</p> + +<p>"Brothers in the Lord," suggested Bindle.</p> + +<p>"There is another thing, Joseph," proceeded Mr. Hearty. "I—I +have more than a suspicion that you know something about +those—that—the——" Mr. Hearty paused.</p> + +<p>"Spit it out, 'Earty," said Bindle encouragingly. "There +ain't no ladies present."</p> + +<p>"If—if there are any more disturbances in—in my neighbourhood," +continued Mr. Hearty, "I shall put the matter in the hands of the +police. I—I have taken legal advice." As he uttered the last sentence +Mr. Hearty looked at Bindle as if expecting him to quail under the +implied threat.</p> + +<p>"'Ave you really!" was Bindle's sole comment.</p> + +<p>"I have a clue!" There was woolly triumph in Mr. Hearty's +voice.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!" said Bindle with unruffled calm. "You +better see the panel doctor, an' 'ave it taken out."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty was disappointed at the effect of what he had hoped +would prove a bombshell.</p> + +<p>"Now, Joseph, I must be going," said Mr. Hearty, "I am very +busy." Mr. Hearty looked about him as if seeking something +with which to be busy.</p> + +<p>"So Millikins ain't goin' to be allowed to marry Charlie Dixon?" +said Bindle with gloomy resignation as he rose.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Mr. Hearty. "My mind is made up."</p> + +<p>"Nothink wouldn't make you change it, I suppose?" enquired +Bindle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nothing, Joseph." There was no trace of indecision in Mr. +Hearty's voice now.</p> + +<p>"Pore little Millikins!" said Bindle sadly as he moved towards +the door, "I done my best. Pore little Millikins!" he repeated +as he reached for the door-handle.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty's spirits rose. He wondered why he had not asserted +himself before. He had been very weak, lamentably weak. Still +he now knew how to act should further difficulties arise through +Bindle's unpardonable interference in his affairs.</p> + +<p>Bindle opened the door, then closed it again, as if he had just +remembered something. "You was sayin' that you been to your +lawyer, 'Earty," he said.</p> + +<p>"I have consulted my solicitor." Mr. Hearty looked swiftly +at Bindle, at a loss to understand the reason for the question.</p> + +<p>"Useful sometimes knowin' a lawyer," remarked Bindle, looking +intently into the bowl of his pipe. Suddenly he looked up +into Mr. Hearty's face. "You'll be wantin' 'im soon, 'Earty."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" There was ill-disguised alarm in Mr. +Hearty's voice.</p> + +<p>"I see an ole pal o' yours yesterday, 'Earty," said Bindle +as he opened the door again. "Ratty she was with you. She's +goin' to make trouble, I'm afraid. Well, s'long 'Earty! I must +be orf;" and Bindle went out into the passage.</p> + +<p>"Joseph," called out Mr. Hearty, "I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>Bindle re-entered. Mr. Hearty walked round him and shut +the door stealthily.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Joseph?" There was fear in Mr. Hearty's +voice and eyes.</p> + +<p>Bindle walked up to him and whispered something in his ear.</p> + +<p>"I—I——" Mr. Hearty stuttered and paled. "My God!"</p> + +<p>"You see, 'Earty, she told me all about it at the time," said +Bindle calmly.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie, a damned lie!" shouted Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"'Ush, 'Earty, 'ush!" said Bindle gently. "Such language +from you! Oh, naughty! 'Earty, naughty!"</p> + +<p>"It's a lie, I tell you." Mr. Hearty's voice was almost tearful. +"It's a wicked endeavour to ruin me."</p> + +<p>"All you got to do, 'Earty," said Bindle, "is to go to ole +Six-an'-Eightpence an' 'ave 'er up."</p> + +<p>"It's a lie, I tell you," said Mr. Hearty weakly as he sank +down upon the couch.</p> + +<p>"So you jest said," remarked Bindle calmly. "I thought I +better let you know she was goin' up to tell the Ole Bird on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +'Ill. Women is funny things, 'Earty, when you gets their goat. +She asked me if I'd mind 'er goin'. Says she wouldn't do anythink +I didn't want 'er to, because I was the only one wot stood +by 'er. Made a rare fuss, she did, though it wasn't much I done. +Well, 'Earty, you're busy, an' I must be orf." Bindle made a +movement towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Joseph, you must stop her!" Mr. Hearty sprang up, his +eyes dilated with fear.</p> + +<p>"Me!" exclaimed Bindle in surprise. "It ain't nothink to do +with me. You jest been tellin' me I'm always a-buttin' in where +I ain't wanted, and now——"</p> + +<p>"But—but you must, Joseph," pleaded Mr. Hearty. "If this +was to get about, it would ruin me."</p> + +<p>"Now ain't you funny, 'Earty," said Bindle. "'Ere are you +a-wantin' me to do wot you said 'urt your feelin's."</p> + +<p>"If you do this, Joseph, I'll—I'll——"</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at Mr. Hearty steadily. "I'll try," he said, "an' +now I must be 'oppin'. Toosday I think was the date. I suppose +you'll be 'avin' it at the chapel? I'd like to 'ave a word +with Millikins before I go. I'll come into the parlour with you, +'Earty."</p> + +<p>"You will see——" began Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" replied Bindle cheerfully. "You leave it to me."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty turned meekly and walked downstairs to the parlour, +where Mrs. Hearty and Millie were seated.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Millikins, your father says 'e don't object. I +persuaded 'im that you're old enough to know your own mind."</p> + +<p>Millie jumped up and ran to Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe, you darling!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ain't I? that's wot all the ladies tell me, Millikins. +Makes your Aunt Lizzie so cross, it does."</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, Martha!" he cried. "'Ope you got a pretty dress for +next Toosday. A weddin', wot'o! Now I must be orf. There's +a rare lot o' burglars in Fulham, an' when they 'ears I'm out, +Lord! they runs 'ome like bunnies to their 'utches. Good night, +'Earty; cheer-o, Martha! Give us a kiss, Millikins;" and Bindle +went out, shown to the door by Millie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Joe, you're absolutely wonderful! I think you +could do anything in the world," she said.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," muttered Bindle, as he walked off, "if they'll +charge me up with that little fairy tale I told 'Earty."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>A BILLETING ADVENTURE</h3> + + +<p>"Some'ow or other, Ginger, I feel I'm goin' to 'ave quite +an 'appy day."</p> + +<p>Bindle proceeded to light his pipe with the care of a +man to whom tobacco means both mother and wife.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'old wiv playin' the fool like you do, Joe," grumbled +Ginger. "It only gets you the sack."</p> + +<p>Bindle and Ginger were seated comfortably on the tail-board +of a pantechnicon bearing the famous name of Harridge's Stores. +Ginger had a few days' leave, which he was spending in voluntarily +helping his mates with their work.</p> + +<p>As they rumbled through Putney High Street, Bindle from +time to time winked at a girl, or exchanged some remark with +a male passer-by.</p> + +<p>For the wounded soldiers taking their morning constitutional +he had always a pleasant word.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, matey, 'ow goes it?" he would cry.</p> + +<p>"Cheerio!" would come back the reply.</p> + +<p>"Look at 'em, Ging, without legs an' arms," Bindle cried, "an' +laughin' like 'ell. There ain't much wrong with a country wot +can breed that sort o' cove."</p> + +<p>From the top of the pantechnicon could be heard Wilkes's +persistent cough, whilst Huggles was in charge of the "ribbons."</p> + +<p>As they reached the foot of Putney Hill, Bindle slipped off the +tail-board, calling to Ginger to do likewise and to Wilkes to come +down, "to save the 'orses."</p> + +<p>"I don't 'old wiv' walkin' to save 'orses," grumbled Ginger. +"I'm tired o' bein' on my feet."</p> + +<p>"You ain't so tired o' bein' on your feet," remarked Bindle, +"as Gawd is of 'earin' o' the things wot you don't 'old with, +Ging. Now, orf you come, ole sport!"</p> + +<p>Ginger slowly slid off the tail of the van, and Wilkes clambered +down from the roof, and two weary horses were conscious of +nearly a quarter of a ton less weight to haul up a tiring hill. +Bindle was too popular with his mates for them to refuse him +so simple a request as walking up a hill.</p> + +<p>On Bindle's head was the inevitable cricket cap of alternate +triangles of blue and white, which exposure to all sorts of weather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +had rendered into two shades of grey. He wore his green baize +apron, his nose was as cheery and ruddy and his smile as persistent +as ever. At the corners of his mouth were those twitches +that he seemed unable to control. To Bindle, existence meant +opportunity. As he saw it, each new day might be a day of great +happenings, of some supreme joke. To him a joke was the anæsthetic +which enabled him to undergo the operation of life.</p> + +<p>Blessed with a wife to whom religion was the be-all and end-all +of existence, he had once remarked to her, after an eloquent +exhortation on her part to come on the side of the Lord, "Wot +should I do in 'eaven, Lizzie? I never 'eard of an angel wot +was able to see a joke, and they'd jest 'oof me out. 'Eaven's +a funny place, an' I can't be funny in their way. I got to go on +as I was made."</p> + +<p>"If you was to smile more, Ginger," remarked Bindle presently, +"you'd find that life wouldn't 'urt so much. If you can grin +you can bear anythink, even Mrs. B., an' she takes a bit o' +bearin'."</p> + +<p>As the three men trudged up Putney Hill beside the sweating +horses, Bindle beamed, Ginger grumbled, and Wilkes coughed. +Wilkes was always coughing. Wilkes found expression in his +cough. He could cough laughter, scorn, or anger. As he was +always coughing, life would otherwise have been intolerable. He +was a man of few words, and, as Bindle phrased it, "When +Wilkie ain't coughin', 'e's thinkin'; an' as it 'urts 'im to think, +'e coughs."</p> + +<p>Ginger was sincere in his endeavour to discover objects he +didn't "'old wiv"; marriage, temperance drinks, Mr. Asquith, +twins and women were some of the things that Ginger found it +impossible to reconcile with the beneficent decrees of Providence.</p> + +<p>After a particularly lengthy bout of coughing on the part of +Wilkes, Bindle remarked to Ginger, "Wilkie's cough is about +the only thing I never 'eard you say you don't 'old wiv, +Ginger."</p> + +<p>"'E can't 'elp it," was Ginger's reply.</p> + +<p>"No more can't women 'elp twins," Bindle responded.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'old wiv twins," was Ginger's gloomy reply. He disliked being +reminded of the awful moment when he had been informed that he was +twice a father in the first year of his marriage.</p> + +<p>"It's a good job Gawd don't ask you for advice, Ginger, or +'E'd be up a tree in about two ticks."</p> + +<p>Ginger grumbled some sort of reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's a funny world, Ging," continued Bindle meditatively. +"There's you wot ain't 'appy in your 'ome life, an' there's pore +ole Wilkie a-coughin' up 'is accounts all day long." After a few +moments devoted to puffing contentedly at his pipe, Bindle continued, +"Did you ever 'ear, Ginger, 'ow pore ole Wilkie's cough +got 'im into trouble?"</p> + +<p>Ginger shook his head mechanically.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bindle, "'e was walkin' out with a gal, an' one +evenin' 'e coughed rather 'arder than usual, an' she took it to +mean that 'e wanted 'er to marry 'im, an' now there's eighteen +little Wilkies. Ain't that true, Wilkie?"</p> + +<p>Wilkes stopped coughing to gasp "Twelve."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, 'alf a dozen more or less don't much matter, +Wilkie, old sport. You lined up to your duty, any'ow."</p> + +<p>"Look out for The Poplars, 'Uggles," Bindle called out. +"Don't go passin' of it, an' comin' all the way back."</p> + +<p>There was a grumble from the front of the van. Two minutes +later Huggles swung the horses into the entrance of The Poplars, +the London house of Lady Knob-Kerrick, and the pantechnicon +rumbled its way up the drive.</p> + +<p>Bindle pulled vigorously at both the visitors' and the servants' +bells.</p> + +<p>"You never knows wot you're expected to be in this world," +he remarked. "We ain't servants and we ain't exactly visitors, +therefore we pulls both bells, which shows that we're somethink +between the two."</p> + +<p>Ginger grumbled about not "'oldin'" with something or other, +and Huggles clambered stiffly down from the driver's seat.</p> + +<p>Presently the door was flung open and a powdered footman, +"all plush and calves" as Bindle phrased it, looked superciliously +down at the group of men standing before him.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', Eustace," said Bindle civilly, "we've come."</p> + +<p>John regarded Bindle with a blank expression, but made no +response.</p> + +<p>"Now then, Calves, 'op it!" said Bindle. "We ain't the War +Office, we're in an 'urry. We've brought the bedsteads and the +beddin' for the soldiers."</p> + +<p>"You've made a mistake, my man," was the footman's response. +"We've not ordered any beds for soldiers."</p> + +<p>"Now look 'ere, don't be uffy, ole sport," said Bindle cheerily, +"or who knows but wot you may get yourself damaged. Like +one o' them funny-coloured birds in the Zoo, ain't 'e, Ging?" +Then he turned once more to the footman. "My friend 'Uggles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +'ere"—Bindle jerked his thumb in the direction of Huggles—"won +the middle-weight championship before 'is nose ran away +with 'im, an' as for me—well, I'm wot they calls 'the White +'Ope.'"</p> + +<p>Bindle made a pugilistic movement forward. John started back suddenly. +Producing a paper from his pocket, Bindle read, "'Lady Knob-Kerrick, +The Poplars, Putney 'Ill, sixteen bedsteads, beddin', etc.' Is this +Lady Knob-Kerrick's, ole son?"</p> + +<p>"This is her ladyship's residence," replied John.</p> + +<p>"Very well," continued Bindle with finality. "We brought +'er sixteen beds, beddin', etcetera,—there's an 'ell of a lot of +etcetera, so you'd better look slippy an' go an' find out all about +it if you wants to get orf to see your gal to-night."</p> + +<p>The footman looked irresolute.</p> + +<p>"Wait here a moment," he said, "and I'll ask Mr. Wilton." +He half closed the door, which Bindle pushed open and entered, +followed by Wilkes, Ginger and Huggles.</p> + +<p>A minute later, the butler, Mr. Wilton, approached.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"The meanin' of this, Your Royal 'Ighness, is that we've +brought sixteen bedsteads, beddin', etcetera,—there's an 'ell of +a lot of etcetera, as I told Calves,—for to turn the Ole Bird's +drawin'-room into billets for soldiers, as per instructions accordin' +to this 'ere;" and he held out the delivery-note to Mr. Wilton.</p> + +<p>"There must be some mistake," replied the butler pompously, +taking the document.</p> + +<p>"There ain't no bloomin' mistake on our part. All you got +to do is to let Calves show us where the drawin'-room is an' +we'll do the rest. 'Ere's the delivery-note, an' when it's in the +delivery-note it's so. That's 'Arridges' way. Ain't the Ole +Bird told you nothink about it?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton took the paper and subjected it to a careful scrutiny. +He read all the particulars on the delivery-note, then turning it +over, read the conditions under which Harridge's did business. +After a careful inspection of Bindle, he returned to a study of the +paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>"John, ask Mrs. Marlings to step here," he ordered the footman. +John disappeared swiftly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot," said Bindle. "Got a note for you, I 'ave;" +and he drew a letter from his breast-pocket addressed "Mr. +Wilton, c/o Lady Knob-Kerrick, The Poplars, Putney Hill, +S.W."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>With great deliberation Mr. Wilton opened the envelope and +unfolded the quarto sheet of notepaper on which was written +"By the instructions of Lady Knob-Kerrick, we are sending herewith +goods as per delivery-note. It is her Ladyship's wish that +these be installed by our men in her drawing-room, which it is +her intention to turn into a dormitory for billeting soldiers. Our +men will do all the necessary work."</p> + +<p>As Mr. Wilton finished reading the note, Mrs. Marlings sailed +into the room. She was a woman of generous build, marvellously +encased in black silk, with a heavy gold chain round her neck +from which hung a cameo locket.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton handed her the letter in silence. She ferreted about +her person for her glasses, which after some trouble she found. +Placing them upon her nose she read the communication slowly +and deliberately. Having done so she handed it back to Mr. +Wilton.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship hasn't said anythink to me about the matter," +she said in an aggrieved tone.</p> + +<p>"Nor me either," said Mr. Wilton.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marlings sniffed, as if there was nothing in her mistress +not having taken Mr. Wilton into her confidence.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, come along, boys!" cried Bindle. "They don't seem +to want these 'ere goods. We'd better take 'em back. Keep us +'ere all day at this rate."</p> + +<p>This remark seemed to galvanise Mr. Wilton into action.</p> + +<p>"You had better do as you have been instructed," he said. +This he felt was a master-stroke by which he avoided all responsibility. +He could truthfully say that he had not given orders for +the bedsteads and bedding to be brought into the house.</p> + +<p>From that moment Mr. Wilton's attitude towards the whole +business was one of detached superiority, which seemed to say, +"Here is a matter about which I have not been consulted. I +shall merely await the inevitable catastrophe, which I foresee, +and as becomes a man, endeavour to render such assistance as +I can in gathering up the pieces."</p> + +<p>With great dignity he led the way to the drawing-room on the +first floor, followed by Bindle, Ginger and John. Mrs. Marlings +disappeared again into the shadows from which she had emerged. +Once in the drawing-room, Ginger began to disembarrass himself +of his coat, and with incomparable gloom proceeded to roll it +up and place it upon the mantelpiece beside the ormolu clock. +Mr. Wilton stepped forward quickly.</p> + +<p>"Not there, my man," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ginger looked around with an expression on his face that +caused Mr. Wilton instinctively to recoil. It was in reality to +Ginger's countenance what to another man would have been a +reluctant and fugitive smile. Mr. Wilton, however, interpreted +it as a glance of resentment and menace. Seeing his mistake, +Bindle stepped immediately into the breach.</p> + +<p>"'E's a bit difficult, is Ginger," he said in a loud whisper. +"It sort o' 'urts 'im to be called 'my man.' That sensitiveness +of 'is 'as made more than one widow. 'E means well, though, +does Ginger, 'e jest wants 'andlin' like a wife. P'raps you ain't +married yourself, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton drew himself up, hoping to crush Bindle by the +weight of his dignity; but Bindle had turned aside and was proceeding +to attend to his duties. Removing his coat he rolled up his +shirt-sleeves and walked to the window.</p> + +<p>"Better take the stuff in from the top of the van," he remarked. +"It'll save Ole Calves from cleanin' the stairs. 'Ere," he called +down to Huggles, "back the van up against the window."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton left the room, indicating to John that he was to +stay. Bindle and Ginger then proceeded to pile up the drawing-room +furniture in the extreme corner. They wheeled the grand +pianoforte across the room, drew from under it the carpet, which +was rolled up and placed beneath. Chairs were piled-up on top, +Bindle taking great care to place matting beneath in order to save +the polish.</p> + +<p>At the sound of the van being backed against the house, Bindle +went to the window.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, wot the 'ell are you doin'?" he cried, looking out. "'Old 'er +up, 'old 'er up, you ole 'Uggins! D'you want to go through the +bloomin' window? Look wot you done to that tree. That'll do! Steady +on, steeeeeeeeady! You didn't ought to 'ave charge o' two goats, +'Uggles, let alone 'orses. 'Ere, come on up!"</p> + +<p>Bindle returned to the work of making room for the bedsteads. +Suddenly he paused in front of John.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he remarked critically, "you look pretty; but I'd love +you better if you was a bit more useful. Wot about a drink? +I like a slice of lemon in mine; but Ginger'll 'ave a split +soda."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Huggles' voice was heard from without.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Joe!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo!" responded Bindle, going to the window.</p> + +<p>"Where's the ladder?" came Huggles' question.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where d'you s'pose it is, 'Uggles? Why, in Wilkie's waistcoat +pocket o' course;" and Bindle left it at that.</p> + +<p>Just as Huggles' head appeared above the window, Mr. Wilton +re-entered.</p> + +<p>"I have telephoned to Harridges," he said. "Her ladyship's +instructions are quite clear, there seems to be no mistake."</p> + +<p>"There ain't no mistake, ole sport," said Bindle confidently. +"It's all down in the delivery-note. The Ole Bird 'as sort o' +taken a fancy to soldiers, an' wants to 'ave a supply on the +premises."</p> + +<p>Huggles had climbed in through the window and was being +followed by Wilkes. Suddenly Bindle went up to Mr. Wilton +and, in a confidential voice said, jerking his thumb in the direction +of John:</p> + +<p>"If you wants to see somethink wot'll make you 'appy, +you jest make Calves whistle or 'um, 'Ginger, You're Barmy,' +then you see wot'll 'appen. You'll die o' laughin', you will +really."</p> + +<p>For a moment Mr. Wilton looked uncomprehendingly from +Bindle to Ginger; then, appreciating the familiarity with which +he had been addressed by a common workman, he turned and, +with great dignity, walked from the room on the balls of his +feet. Ginger watched him with gloomy malevolence.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'old with ruddy waiters, like 'im," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"All right, Ging, never you mind about Dicky Bird, you get +on with your work."</p> + +<p>Bindle picked up Wilkes's hat—a battered fawn bowler with +a mourning band—and placed it upon the head of the late Sir +Benjamin Biggs, Lady Knob-Kerrick's father, whose bust stood +on an elaborate pedestal near the window.</p> + +<p>"'E's on the bust now all right!" grinned Bindle as he +regarded his handiwork.</p> + +<p>In the space of twenty minutes the room was bare, but for an +enormous pile of furniture in one corner. Soon sections of small +japanned-bedsteads and bundles of bedding appeared mysteriously +at the window, and were hauled in by Bindle and Ginger. +After the bedsteads and bedding, there appeared four baths; these +were immediately followed by four tin wash-handstands and +basins, a long table, two looking-glasses, half a dozen towel-horses, +and various other articles necessary to a well-ordered dormitory.</p> + +<p>Throughout the proceedings Wilkes's cough could be heard +as a sort of accompaniment from without.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's one thing, Ging," remarked Bindle, "there ain't +much chance o' mislayin' pore ole Wilkie. That cough of 'is is +as good as a bell round 'is neck."</p> + +<p>At twelve o'clock, work was knocked off. Wilkes entered +through the window carrying a frying-pan, and Huggles with a +parcel wrapped in newspaper. Ginger and Bindle both went +down the ladder, the first-named returning a minute later with +a parcel, also wrapped in newspaper.</p> + +<p>From his parcel Huggles produced a small piece of steak, +which he proceeded to fry at the fire. Ginger in turn unfolded +from its manifold wrappings a red-herring. Sticking this on the +end of his knife he held it before the bars. Soon the room +was flooded with a smell of burning red-herring and frying +steak.</p> + +<p>When Bindle entered a minute later he sniffed at the air in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Wot the 'ell are you up to?" he cried. "'Ere, Ginger, +chuck that thing on the fire. As for you, 'Uggles, you ought to +be ashamed o' yourself. Ain't you never been in a drawin'-room +before? I'm surprised at 'im an' you, 'Uggles, that I am. +Ginger, chuck that thing on the fire," he commanded.</p> + +<p>Huggles muttered something about it being his dinner hour.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'old wiv wastin' food," began Ginger.</p> + +<p>"I don't care wot you 'old with, Ging, you got to chuck that +sojer on the fire."</p> + +<p>"It's only an 'erring," began Ginger.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but it's got the stink of a whale," cried Bindle.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly Ginger removed the sizzling morsel from the end +of his knife and threw it on the fire, just as Mrs. Marlings entered. +She gave a little cry as the pungent smell of Huggles' and +Ginger's dinners smote her nostrils.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried, starting back, "whathever 'as 'appened? +What a dreadful smell! Where can it——"</p> + +<p>"It's Ginger forgot 'isself, mum," explained Bindle, with a +withering glance in the direction of his subordinate. "'E thought +'e was in an 'Un dug-out. You see, mum, Ginger ain't 'appy in +'is 'ome life."</p> + +<p>"But—but—look, it's hon the fire," cried Mrs. Marlings, pointing +to Ginger's dinner, at which he was gazing with an expression +that was a tragedy of regret.</p> + +<p>When excited Mrs. Marlings had some difficulty with her aspirates. +"Oh! Mr. Wilton," she cried to the butler, who entered at that +moment, and stood regarding the scene as Achilles might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> have +viewed the reverses of the Greeks. "Oh! Mr. Wilton! take hit +away, please, hit will poison us."</p> + +<p>With his head held well in the air Mr. Wilton beckoned to +John, who walked to the fireplace. With a majestic motion of +his hand Mr. Wilton indicated to the footman that Ginger's +offending dinner was to be removed. Gravely John took up the +tongs, deliberately gripping the herring amidships, and turned +towards the door, holding it aloft as if it were some sacred +symbol.</p> + +<p>Ginger's eyes were glued to the blackened shape.</p> + +<p>"It ain't every red 'errin' wot 'as a funeral like that," remarked +Bindle to Ginger.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton threw open the door. Suddenly John started back +and retreated, the herring still held before him, all smell and +blue smoke.</p> + +<p>"'Old me, 'Orace!" murmured Bindle, who was in a direct +line with the door, "if it ain't the Ole Bird!"</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick entered, followed by Miss Strint, her companion and +echo. Casting one annihilating look at the speechless John, she gazed +with amazement at the disorder about her. Miss Strint gave vent to a +spasmodic giggle, which Lady Knob-Kerrick did not even notice. Her +gaze roved round the room as if she had found herself in unexpected +surroundings. Finally her eyes fixed themselves on Mr. Wilton.</p> + +<p>"Wilton, what is that John is holding?" Lady Knob-Kerrick +prided herself on her self-control.</p> + +<p>All eyes were immediately turned upon John, who shivered +slightly.</p> + +<p>"It is what they call a herring, a red-herring, my lady," responded +Wilton. "Poor people eat them, I believe."</p> + +<p>"And what is it doing in my drawing-room?" demanded Lady +Knob-Kerrick with ominous calm.</p> + +<p>"It was smellin', mum," broke in Bindle, "an' we was gettin' +Calves to take it out. It's all through Ginger, 'e likes tasty +food; but 'e ain't 'appy——"</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue!" said Lady Knob-Kerrick, turning to +Bindle and withering him through her lorgnettes.</p> + +<p>She turned once more to her major-domo.</p> + +<p>"Wilton," she demanded, "what is the meaning of this outrage?"</p> + +<p>"It's the billets, my lady."</p> + +<p>"The what?"</p> + +<p>"The billets, my lady."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I haven't ordered any billets. What are billets?"</p> + +<p>Suddenly her eye caught sight of the bust of the late Sir +Benjamin Biggs.</p> + +<p>"Who did that?" Rage had triumphed over self-control.</p> + +<p>All eyes turned to the marble lineaments of the late Sir +Benjamin's features. Never had that worthy knight presented +so disreputable an appearance as he did with Huggles' hat stuck +upon his head at a rakish angle.</p> + +<p>"It must have been one of the workmen, my lady." Mr. Wilton +tiptoed over to the bust and removed the offending headgear, +placing it on a bundle of bedding.</p> + +<p>"One of the workmen!" stormed Lady Knob-Kerrick. "Is +everybody mad? What is being done with my drawing-room?"</p> + +<p>Bindle stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"We come from 'Arridges, mum, with the beds an' things for +the soldiers."</p> + +<p>"For the what?" demanded her ladyship.</p> + +<p>"For the soldiers' billets, mum," explained Bindle. "You're +goin' to billet sixteen soldiers 'ere."</p> + +<p>"Billet sixteen soldiers!" almost screamed her ladyship, red +in the face.</p> + +<p>With great deliberation Bindle pulled out the delivery-note +from behind his green baize apron, and read solemnly: "'Lady +Knob-Kerrick, The Poplars, Putney 'Ill.' That's you, mum, +ain't it?"</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick continued to stare at him stonily.</p> + +<p>"'Sixteen bedsteads, bedding, four baths, four washin' stands, +etcetera.' There's a rare lot of etceteras, mum. 'Fit up bedsteads +in drawin'-room for billetin' soldiers, carefully storin' at +one end of room existin' furniture.' There ain't no mistake," +said Bindle solemnly. "It's all on this 'ere paper, which was +'anded to me by the foreman this mornin'. There ain't no mistake, +mum, really."</p> + +<p>"But I tell you there is a mistake," cried Lady Knob-Kerrick +angrily. "I have no intention of billeting soldiers <i>in my drawing-room</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well, mum," said Bindle, shaking his head as if it were useless +to fight against destiny, "it's all down 'ere on this 'ere paper, +and if you're Lady Knob-Kerrick"—he referred to the paper +again—"of The Poplars, Putney 'Ill, then you want these +soldiers, sure as eggs. P'raps you forgotten," he added with +illumination.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Forgotten what?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick.</p> + +<p>"Forgotten that you want sixteen soldiers, mum."</p> + +<p>"Halt!"</p> + +<p>A sharp snapping sound from without. Everybody turned +to the window. The situation had become intensely dramatic. +Bindle walked over, and looked out. Then turning to Lady +Knob-Kerrick he said triumphantly:</p> + +<p>"'Ere's the sixteen soldiers, mum, so there ain't no mistake."</p> + +<p>"The what?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick looking about +her helplessly.</p> + +<p>"The sixteen soldiers with all their kit," said Bindle. "I +counted 'em," he added, as if to remove any glimmer of doubt +that might still exist in Lady Knob-Kerrick's mind.</p> + +<p>"Is everybody mad?" Lady Knob-Kerrick fixed her eyes +upon Wilton. Wilton looked towards the door, which opened to +admit John, who had seized the occasion of the diversion to slip +out with Ginger's dinner.</p> + +<p>"The soldiers, my lady," he announced.</p> + +<p>There was a tremendous tramping on the stairs, and a moment +afterwards fifteen soldiers in the charge of a sergeant streamed +in, each bearing his kit-bag, rifle, etc.</p> + +<p>The men gazed about them curiously.</p> + +<p>The sergeant looked bewildered at so many people being +grouped to receive them. After a hasty glance round he saluted +Lady Knob-Kerrick, then he removed his cap, the men one by +one sheepishly following suit.</p> + +<p>"I hope we haven't come too soon, your ladyship?"</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick continued to stare at him through her +lorgnettes. Wilton stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"There has been a mistake. Her Ladyship cannot billet +soldiers."</p> + +<p>The sergeant looked puzzled. He drew a paper from his +pocket, and read the address aloud: "'Lady Knob-Kerrick, The +Poplars, Putney Hill, will billet sixteen soldiers in her drawing-room, +she will also cater for them.'"</p> + +<p>"Cater for them!" almost shrieked Lady Knob-Kerrick. +"Cater for sixteen soldiers! I haven't ordered sixteen soldiers."</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry," said the sergeant, "but it's—it's——" The +man looked at the paper he held in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what you've got there," said Lady Knob-Kerrick +rudely. "Strint!"</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick had suddenly caught sight of Miss Strint.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady?" responded Miss Strint.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did I order sixteen soldiers?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick +in a tone she always adopted with servants when she wanted +confirmation.</p> + +<p>"No, my lady, not as far as I know."</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick turned triumphantly to the sergeant, and +stared at him through her lorgnettes.</p> + +<p>"You hear?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady, I hear," said the sergeant, respectful, but +puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, mum, you could let 'em stay," insinuated +Bindle, "seein' that all the stuff's 'ere."</p> + +<p>"Let them stay!" Lady Knob-Kerrick regarded Bindle in +amazement. "Let them stay <i>in my drawing-room</i>!" She pronounced +the last four words as if Bindle's remark had outraged her sense of +delicacy.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't be doin' no 'arm, mum, if——"</p> + +<p>"No harm!" cried Lady Knob-Kerrick, gazing indignantly at +Bindle through her lorgnettes. "Soldiers in my drawing-room!"</p> + +<p>"If it wasn't for them, mum," said Bindle dryly, "you'd be +'avin' soldiers in your bedroom—'Uns," he added significantly.</p> + +<p>Lady Knob-Kerrick hesitated. She was conscious of having +been forced upon rather delicate ground, and she prided herself +upon her patriotism. Suddenly inspiration seized her. She +turned on Bindle fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Why are <i>you</i> not in the army?" she demanded, with the air +of a cross-examining counsel about to draw from a witness a +damning admission.</p> + +<p>Bindle scratched his head through his cricket-cap. He was +conscious that all eyes were turned upon him.</p> + +<p>"Answer me!" commanded Lady Knob-Kerrick triumphantly. +"Why are you not in the army?"</p> + +<p>Bindle looked up innocently at his antagonist.</p> + +<p>"You got 'various' veins in your legs, mum?" He lowered +his eyes to Lady Knob-Kerrick's boots.</p> + +<p>"How—how dare you!" gasped Lady Knob-Kerrick, aware +that the soldiers were broadly grinning, and that every eye in +the room had followed the direction of Bindle's gaze.</p> + +<p>"Because," continued Bindle quietly, "when you 'ave 'various' +veins in your legs you ain't no good for the army. I went on +tryin' till they said they'd run me in for wastin' time."</p> + +<p>"I seen 'im!"</p> + +<p>The remark came from Ginger, who, finding that he had +centred upon himself everybody's attention, looked extremly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +ill-at-ease. Bindle looked across at him in surprise. Impulse +with Ginger was rare.</p> + +<p>With flaming face and murderous eyes Lady Knob-Kerrick +turned to the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"You will remove your sixteen soldiers and take them back +and say that they were not ordered. As for you," she turned +to Bindle, "you had better take all these things back again and +tell Harridge's that I shall close my account, and I shall sue them +for damages to my drawing-room"; and with that she marched +out of the room.</p> + +<p>At a word from the sergeant the men trooped out, putting on +their caps and grinning broadly. Bindle scratched his head, +took out his pipe and proceeded to fill it, signing to his colleagues +to get the beds and bedding down to the van.</p> + +<p>"Quick march!" The short sharp order from below was +followed by a crunch of gravel, and then the men broke out +into a song, "Here we are, here we are, here we are again." +Bindle went to the window and looked out. As the sound died +away in the distance, the question "Are we downhearted?" was +heard, followed immediately by the chorused reply:</p> + +<p>"Noooooooo!"</p> + +<p>"My! ain't them boys jest 'It,'" muttered Bindle as he withdrew +his head and proceeded with the work of reloading the van.</p> + +<p>Two hours later the van was grinding down Putney Hill with +the skid-pan adjusted. Ginger had gone home, Wilkes was on +top, and Bindle sat on the tail-board smoking.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'e got 'ome all right on the Ole Bird to-day," remarked +Bindle contentedly. "My! ain't 'e a knock-out for 'is little joke. +Beats me does Mr. Little, an' I takes a bit o' beatin'."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>MILLIE'S WEDDING</h3> + + +<p>"It don't seem right, some'ow," muttered Bindle, as he stood before +the oval mirror of what a misguided Fulham tradesman had catalogued as +"an elegant duchesse dressing-table in walnut substitute." "A +concertina-'at don't seem jest right for a weddin'!"</p> + +<p>Bindle readjusted the crush-hat that had come to him as part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +of the properties belonging to the Oxford Adventure. He tried +it on the back of his head, over his eyes and at the Sir David +Beatty Angle.</p> + +<p>"Oh, get out of the way, do! We shall be late." Mrs. Bindle, in +petticoat and camisole, pushed Bindle aside and took her place in +front of the mirror. "Anybody would think you was a woman, standing +looking at yourself in front of the glass. What'll Mr. Hearty say if +we're late?"</p> + +<p>"You need never be afraid of what 'Earty'll say," remarked +Bindle philosophically, "because 'e'll never say anythink wot +can't be printed in a parish magazine."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle sniffed and continued patting her hair with the +palm of her hand. Bindle still stood regarding his crush-hat +regretfully.</p> + +<p>"You can't wear a hat like that at a wedding," snapped Mrs. +Bindle; "that's for a dress-suit."</p> + +<p>Bindle heaved a sigh.</p> + +<p>"I'd a liked to 'ave worn a top 'at at Millikins' weddin'," he +remarked with genuine regret; "but as you'd say, Mrs. B.," he +remarked, regaining his good-humour, "Gawd 'as ordained otherwise, +so it's a 'ard 'at for J.B. to-day."</p> + +<p>"Remember you're going to chapel, Bindle," remarked Mrs. +Bindle, "and it's a sin to enter the House of God with blasphemy +upon your lips."</p> + +<p>"Is it really?" was Bindle's only comment, as he produced the +hard hat and began to brush it with the sleeve of his coat. This +done he took up a position behind Mrs. Bindle, bent his knees +and proceeded to fix it on his head, appropriating to his own +use such portion of the mirror as could be seen beneath Mrs. +Bindle's left arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, get away, do!" Mrs. Bindle turned on him angrily; but +Bindle had achieved his object, and had adjusted his hat at what +he felt was the correct angle for weddings. He next turned his +attention to a large white rose, which he proceeded to force into +his buttonhole. This time he took up a position on Mrs. Bindle's +right and, going through the same process, managed to get the +complete effect of the buttonhole plus the hat. He next proceeded +to draw on a pair of canary-coloured wash-leather gloves. +This done he picked up a light cane, heavily adorned with yellow +metal and, Mrs. Bindle having temporarily left the mirror, he +placed himself before it.</p> + +<p>"Personally myself," he remarked, "I don't see that Charlie'll +'ave a sportin' chance to-day. Lord! I pays for dressin'," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +remarked, popping quickly aside as Mrs. Bindle bore down upon +him. "You ought to be a proud woman to-day, Mrs. B.," he +continued. "There's many a fair 'eart wot'll flutter as I walks +up the aisle." Mrs. Bindle's head, however, was enveloped in +the folds of her skirt, which she was endeavouring to assume +without rumpling her hair.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mrs. B.," Bindle said reprovingly, "late again, late +again!" He proceeded to bite off the end of a cigar which he +lit.</p> + +<p>"Don't smoke that cigar," snapped Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Not smoke a cigar at a weddin'!" exclaimed Bindle incredulously. +"Then if you can't smoke a cigar at a weddin', when the 'ell can +you smoke one."</p> + +<p>"Don't you use those words at me," retorted Mrs. Bindle. "If +you smoke you'll smell of smoke in the chapel."</p> + +<p>"The only smell I ever smelt in that chapel is its own smell, +and that ain't a pleasant one. Any'ow, I'll put it out before +I gets to the door. I'm jest goin' to 'op round to see Millikins."</p> + +<p>"You'll do nothing of the kind," cried Mrs. Bindle with +decision. "You mustn't see a bride before she appears at the +chapel."</p> + +<p>Bindle stopped dead on his way to the door and, turning +round, exclaimed, "Mustn't wot?"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't see a bride before she appears at the chapel or +church. It isn't proper."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" cried Bindle. "You mean to tell me +that Charlie Dixon ain't goin' to nip round and 'ave a look at +'er this mornin'?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"But why?" persisted Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Because it's not proper; it's not the right thing to do," +replied Mrs. Bindle, as she struggled into her bodice.</p> + +<p>"Now ain't that funny," said Bindle. "I suppose it all come +about because they was afraid the chap might sort o' funk it and +do a bunk, not likin' the looks o' the gal. Any'ow that ain't +likely to 'appen with Millikins. The cove wot gets 'er, 'as got +a winner."</p> + +<p>"Thought you didn't believe in marriage," said Mrs. Bindle +acidly.</p> + +<p>"I don't, Mrs. B.," replied Bindle. "Leastways the marriages +wot are made in the place where they don't play billiards; but +this little one was made in the Putney Cinema Pavilion. I made +it myself, and when J.B. takes a thing in 'and, it's goin' to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +top 'ole. Then," he proceeded after a pause, "Millikins 'as got +me to look after 'er. If 'er man didn't make 'er 'appy, I'd +skin 'im; yes, and rub salt in afterwards."</p> + +<p>There was a grimness in Bindle's voice that caused Mrs. Bindle +to pause in the process of pinning a brooch in her bodice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. B.," continued Bindle, "that little gal means an +'ell of a lot to me, I——"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle looked round, a little startled at a huskiness in +Bindle's voice. She was just in time to see him disappear through +the bedroom-door. When she returned to the looking-glass, the +face that was reflected back to her was that of a woman in whose +eyes there was something of disappointment and cheated longing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle proceeded with her toilet. Everything seemed +to go wrong, and each article she required appeared to have +hidden itself away. Finally she assumed her bonnet, a study +in two tints of green, constructed according to the inevitable +plan upon which all her bonnets were built, narrow of gauge +with a lofty superstructure. She gave a final glance at herself +in the glass, and sighed her satisfaction at the sight of the +maroon-coloured dress with the bright green bonnet.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Bindle emerged into Fenton Street, working on +her white kid gloves with feverish movement, she found Bindle +engaged in chatting with a group of neighbours.</p> + +<p>"'Ere comes my little beetroot," remarked Bindle; at which +Mrs. Rogers went off into a shriek of laughter and told him to +"Go hon, do!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle acknowledged the salutations of her neighbours +with a frigid inclination of her head. She strongly objected to +Bindle's "holding any truck" with the occupants of other houses +in Fenton Street.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, s'long, all of you!" said Bindle. "It ain't my +weddin', that's one thing."</p> + +<p>There were cheery responses to Bindle's remarks, and sotto +voce references to Mrs. Bindle as "a stuck-up cat."</p> + +<p>"Mind you throw that cigar away before we get to the chapel," +said Mrs. Bindle, still working at her gloves.</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" said Bindle, as they turned into the New King's +Road. He waved the hand containing the cigar in salutation +to the driver of a passing motor-bus with whom he was acquainted.</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Mrs. Bindle snappishly.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't do wot?" enquired Bindle innocently.</p> + +<p>"Recognising common people when you're with me," was the +response.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But that was 'Arry Sales," said Bindle, puzzled at Mrs. +Bindle's attitude. "'E ain't common, 'e drives a motor-bus."</p> + +<p>"What will people think?" demanded Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Oh! they're used to 'Arry drivin' a bus," replied Bindle. +"They might think it funny if he was to drive an 'earse."</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean," said Mrs. Bindle. "Why can't +you remember that you're goin' to a wedding."</p> + +<p>"Nobody wouldn't know it from your looks, Mrs. B.," commented +Bindle. "You look about as 'appy as 'Earty does when 'e 'ears +there's goin' to be an air-raid."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk to me!" snapped Mrs. Bindle; and they continued on +their way in silence. When about a hundred yards from the Alton Road +Chapel, Mrs. Bindle demanded of Bindle that he throw away his cigar, +which he did with great reluctance.</p> + +<p>There was a small collection of women and children outside +the chapel doors.</p> + +<p>"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Bindle suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Where?" enquired Bindle, looking first to the right and left, +then on the ground and finally up at the sky.</p> + +<p>"I knew we should be late," said Mrs. Bindle. "There's the +carriage."</p> + +<p>At that moment a two-horse carriage bearing Mr. Hearty +and Millie passed by, and drew up at the entrance to the chapel. +Mr. Hearty's white kid-gloved hand appeared out of the window, +fumbling with the handle of the carriage. A moment later his +silk hat, adorned with a deep black band, appeared; still the +carriage-door refused to open. Suddenly as if out of sheer mischief +it gave way, and Mr. Hearty lurched forward, his hat fell +off and rolled under the carriage. A stray dog, that had been +watching the proceedings, dashed for the hat, just at the moment +that Mr. Hearty hurriedly stepped out to retrieve his headgear. +Mr. Hearty's foot came down upon the dog's paw. The animal +gave a heart-rending howl, Mr. Hearty jumped, the people +laughed, and the dog continued to howl, holding up its wounded +paw.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty, however, was intent upon the recapture of his +hat. With his silver-mounted umbrella, he started poking beneath +the carriage to try and coax it towards him. An elderly gentleman, +seeing the mishap, had approached from the other side of +the carriage and, with his stick, was endeavouring to achieve +the same object. The result was that, as soon as one drew +the hat towards him, the other immediately snatched it away +again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's like a game of 'ockey," said Bindle who had come up at +this moment. "Go it, 'Earty, you got it!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bindle tore at Bindle's arm, just as the benevolent gentleman +succeeded in securing Mr. Hearty's hat. Mr. Hearty dashed +round to the other side of the carriage, snatched his damaged +headgear from the hands of the stranger, and stood brushing it +upon the sleeve of his coat.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, sir!" said the stranger.</p> + +<p>"But it's my hat," said Mr. Hearty, endeavouring to restore +something of its lost glossiness.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty had apparently forgotten all about the bride, and +it was Bindle who helped Millie from the carriage, and led her +into the chapel. Mrs. Bindle reminded Mr. Hearty of his duty. +Putting his hat on his head, he entered the chapel door. It was +Mrs. Bindle also who reminded him of his mistake.</p> + +<p>"It's a good omen, Uncle Joe," whispered Millie as she clung +to Bindle's arm.</p> + +<p>"Wot's a good omen, Millikins?" enquired Bindle.</p> + +<p>"That you should take me in instead of father," she whispered +just as Mr. Hearty bustled up and relieved Bindle.</p> + +<p>There was a craning of necks and a hum of voices as Mr. +Hearty, intensely nervous, led his daughter up to the altar. +Bindle followed, carrying Mr. Hearty's hat and umbrella.</p> + +<p>"My! don't 'is Nibs look smart," Bindle muttered to himself, +as he caught sight of Charlie Dixon standing at the further end +of the chapel.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Mr. Sopley had come up from Eastbourne specially +for the occasion, Millie refusing to be married by Mr. MacFie. +The ceremony dragged its mournful course to the point where +Millie and Charlie Dixon had become man and wife. Mr. Sopley +then plunged into a lugubrious address full of dreary foreboding. +He spoke of orphans, widowhood, plague and famine, the uncertainty +of human life and the persistent quality of sin.</p> + +<p>"'E ain't much at marrying," whispered Bindle to Mr. Hearty; +"but 'e ought to be worth a rare lot for funerals." Mr. Hearty +turned and gazed at Bindle uncomprehendingly.</p> + +<p>It was Bindle who snatched the first kiss from the bride, and +it was he who, in the vestry, lightened the depressing atmosphere +by his cheerfulness. Mrs. Hearty in mauve and violet dabbed +her eyes and beat her breast with rigid impartiality. Mr. Hearty +strove to brush his hat into respectability.</p> + +<p>Millie, clinging to her soldier-husband, stood with downcast +eyes. Bindle looked at her with interest, as she stood a meek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +and charming figure in a coat and skirt of puritan grey, with a +toque of the same shade.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sopley shook hands mechanically with everybody, +casting his eyes up to heaven as if mournfully presaging the +worst.</p> + +<p>"About the gloomiest ole cove I ever come across," whispered +Bindle to Mrs. Hearty, whereat she collapsed upon a seat and +heaved with silent laughter.</p> + +<p>It was Bindle who broke up the proceedings.</p> + +<p>"Now then, Charlie, 'op it, I'm 'ungry!" he said; and Charlie +Dixon, who had seemed paralysed, moved towards the vestry +door.</p> + +<p>It was Bindle who held on Mr. Hearty's hat when he entered +his carriage, and it was Bindle who heaved and pushed Mrs. +Hearty until she was able to take her place beside her lawful +spouse.</p> + +<p>It was Bindle who went back and captured the vague and +indeterminate Mr. Sopley, and brought him in the last carriage, +that he might participate in the wedding-breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Come along, sir," he said to the pastor. "Never mind about +'eaven, let's come and cut ole 'Earty's pineapple, that'll make +'im ratty."</p> + +<p>During the journey Bindle went on to explain that Mr. Hearty +never expected a guest to have the temerity to cut a pineapple +when placed upon his hospitable board.</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" remarked Mr. Sopley, not in the least understanding +what Bindle was saying.</p> + +<p>"It is," said Bindle solemnly; "you see, they goes back into +stock."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h-h!" remarked Mr. Sopley, gazing at the roof of the +carriage.</p> + +<p>"Clever ole bird this," muttered Bindle. "About as brainy +as a cock-sparrow wot's 'ad the wind knocked out of 'im."</p> + +<p>When Bindle entered the Heartys' dining-room he found the atmosphere +one of unrelieved gloom. Mrs. Hearty was crying, Mr. Hearty looked +nervously solemn, Mrs. Bindle was uncompromisingly severe, and the +other guests all seemed intensely self-conscious. The men gazed about +them for some place to put their hats and umbrellas, the women +wondered what they should do with their hands. At the further end of +the room stood Millie and Charlie Dixon, Millie's hand still tucked +through her husband's arm. Never was there such joylessness as in Mr. +Hearty's dining-room that morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Ullo, 'ullo!" cried Bindle as he entered with Mr. Sopley. +"Ain't this a jolly little crowd!"</p> + +<p>Millie brightened-up instantaneously, Charlie Dixon looked +relieved. Mr. Hearty dashed forward to welcome Mr. Sopley, +tripped over Bindle's cane, which he was holding awkwardly, +and landed literally on Mr. Sopley's bosom.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sopley stepped back and struck his head against the edge +of the door.</p> + +<p>"Look at 'earty tryin' to kiss ole Woe-and-Whiskers," remarked +Bindle audibly. Millie giggled, Charlie Dixon smiled, Mrs. Bindle +glared, and the rest of the guests looked either disapprovingly +at Bindle, or sympathetically at Mr. Hearty and Mr. Sopley. +Mrs. Hearty collapsed into a chair and began to undulate with +mirth.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't we 'ave an 'ymn?" suggested Bindle.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked round from abjectly apologising to Mr. +Sopley. He hesitated a moment and glanced towards the harmonium.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Joe is only joking, father," said Millie.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty looked at Bindle reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Now then, let's set down," said Bindle.</p> + +<p>After much effort and a considerable expenditure of physical +force, he managed to get the guests seated at the table.</p> + +<p>At a sign from Mr. Hearty, Mr. Sopley rose to say grace.</p> + +<p>Every one but Bindle was watching for the movement, and a +sudden silence fell on the assembly from which Bindle's remark +stood out with clear-cut emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Ole 'Earty playing 'ockey with 'is top 'at under——" Then +Bindle stopped, looking about him with a grin.</p> + +<p>Gravely and ponderously Mr. Sopley besought the Lord to +make the assembly grateful for what they were about to receive, +and amidst a chorus of "amens" the guests resumed their seats.</p> + +<p>The wedding party was a small one. For once Mr. Hearty had +found that patriotism was not at issue with economy. The guests +consisted of the bridegroom's mother, a gentle, sweet-faced woman +with white hair and a sunny smile, her brother-in-law, Mr. John +Dixon, a red-faced, hurly-burly type of man, a genial, loud-voiced +John Bull, hearty of manner and heavy of hand, and half a dozen +friends and relatives of the Heartys.</p> + +<p>At the head of the table sat Millie and Charlie Dixon, at the +foot was Mr. Sopley. The other guests were distributed without +thought or consideration as to precedence. Bindle found himself +between Mrs. Dixon and Mrs. Hearty. Mrs. Bindle was oppo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>site, +where she had planted herself to keep watch. Mr. Hearty +sat next to Mrs. Dixon, facing Mr. Dixon, whose uncompromising +stare Mr. Hearty found it difficult to meet with composure.</p> + +<p>Alice, the maid-servant, reinforced by her sister Bertha, heavy +of face and flat of foot, attended to the wants of the guests.</p> + +<p>The meal began in constrained silence. The first episode +resulted from Alice's whispered enquiry if Mr. Dixon would have +lime-juice or lemonade.</p> + +<p>"Beer!" cried Mr. Dixon in a loud voice.</p> + +<p>Alice looked across at Mr. Hearty, who, being quite unequal +to the situation, looked at Alice, and then directed his gaze +towards Mr. Sopley.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir?" said Alice.</p> + +<p>"Beer!" roared Mr. Dixon.</p> + +<p>Everybody began to feel uncomfortable except Bindle, who +was watching the little comedy with keen enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"We—we——" began Mr. Hearty—"we don't drink beer, Mr. +Dixon."</p> + +<p>"Don't drink beer?" cried Mr. Dixon in the tone of a man who +has just heard that another doesn't wear socks. "Don't drink +beer?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty shook his head miserably, as if fully conscious of +his shortcomings.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary!" said Mr. Dixon, "most extraordinary!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll have a whisky-and-soda," he conceded magnanimously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hearty rolled his eyes and cast a languishing glance in +the direction of Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"We are temperance," said Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"What!" roared Mr. Dixon incredulously. "Temperance! +temperance at a wedding!"</p> + +<p>"Always," said Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"Hmmmm!" snorted Mr. Dixon. He glared down the length +of the table as if the guests comprised a new species.</p> + +<p>Alice repeated her question about the lemonade and lime-juice.</p> + +<p>"I should be sick if I drank it," said Mr. Dixon crossly. "I'll +have a cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"'E's like me, mum," said Bindle to Mrs. Dixon who was +greatly distressed at the occurrence, "'e likes 'is glass of beer +and ain't none the worse for it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dixon smiled understandingly.</p> + +<p>The meal continued, gloomily silent, or with whispered conversations, +as if the guests were afraid of hearing their own voices.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bindle turned to Mrs. Hearty. "Look 'ere, Martha!" he cried. +"We ain't a very cheer-o crowd, are we? Ain't you got none +of them naughty stories o' yours to tell jest to make us laugh."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hearty was in the act of conveying a piece of chicken to +her mouth. The chicken and fork dropped back to the plate with +a jangle, and she leaned back in her chair, heaving and wheezing +with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, sir!" said Bindle, addressing Mr. Sopley, who +temporarily withdrew his eyes from the ceiling. "I 'ad a little +argument with a cove the other day, as to where this 'ere was +to be found. I said it's from the Bible, 'e says it's from <i>The +Pink 'Un</i>."</p> + +<p>Bindle looked round to assure himself that he had attracted +the attention of the whole table.</p> + +<p>"Now this is it. 'The Lord said unto Moses come forth, and 'e +come fifth an' lorst the cup.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dixon smiled, Millie and Charlie Dixon laughed; but Mr. +Dixon threw himself back in his chair and roared. Mr. Hearty +looked apprehensively at Mr. Sopley, who regarded Bindle with +uncomprehending eyes.</p> + +<p>"You've lost your money, Mr. Bindle, you've lost your money; +it's <i>The Pink 'Un</i>, I'll bet my life on it," choked Mr. Dixon. +"Best thing I've heard for years, 'pon my soul it is!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bindle, I'm afraid you are a very naughty man," said +Mrs. Dixon gently.</p> + +<p>"Me, mum?" enquired Bindle with assumed innocence. "Me +naughty? That's jest where you're wrong, mum. When I die, +it ain't the things I done wot I shall be sorry for; but the things +wot I ain't done, and as for 'Earty, 'e'll be as sorry for 'imself +as Ginger was when 'e got a little dose o' twins."</p> + +<p>"Bindle, remember there are ladies present!" cried the outraged +Mrs. Bindle from the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Mrs. B.," said Bindle reassuringly. "These was +gentlemen twins."</p> + +<p>The meal progressed solemn and joyless. Few remarks were +made, but much food and drink was consumed. Bindle made a +point of cutting both the pineapples that adorned the table, +delighting in the anguish he saw on Mr. Hearty's face.</p> + +<p>"If they only 'ad a drink," groaned Bindle, "it would sort o' +wake 'em up; but wot can you do on lemonade and glass-ginger. +Can't even 'ave stone-ginger, because they're sort of afraid it +might make 'em tight."</p> + +<p>When everyone had eaten to repletion, Mr. Hearty cast a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +glance round and then, with the butt-end of a knife, rapped +loudly on the table. There was a sudden hush. Mr. Hearty +looked intently at Mr. Sopley, who was far away engaged in a +contemplation of heaven, via the ceiling. Bindle began to clap, +which brought Mr. Sopley back to earth.</p> + +<p>Seeing what was required of him, he rose with ponderous +solemnity and, in his best "grief-and-woe" manner, proceeded +to propose the health of the bride in a sepulchral voice, reminiscent +of a damp Church of England service in the country.</p> + +<p>"Dear friends." He raised a pair of anguished eyes to the +green and yellow paper festoons that trailed from the electrolier +above the dining-table to various picture nails in the walls. He +paused, his lips moving slowly and impressively, then aloud he +continued:</p> + +<p>"Dear friends, of all the ceremonies that attend our brief stay in +this vale of tears, marriage is infinitely the most awful—("'Ear, +'ear!" from Bindle, and murmurs of "Hush!"). It is a contract entered +into—er—er—in the sight of heaven; but with—er—er—the Almighty's +blessing it may be a linking of hands of two of—er—God's creatures +as they pass down the—er—er—valley of the shadow of death to +eternal and lasting salvation." Mr. Sopley paused.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, I say, sir," broke in Bindle. "Cheer up, this ain't a +funeral."</p> + +<p>There were murmurs of "Husssssssssh!" Mrs. Hearty began to +cry quietly. Mr. Hearty appeared portentously solemn, Mrs. +Bindle looked almost cheerful.</p> + +<p>"We see two young people," resumed Mr. Sopley, having apparently +renewed his store of ideas from a further contemplation of the +ceiling, "on the threshold of life, with all its disappointments and +temptations, all its sin and misery, all its fears and misgivings. We +know that—we know—we have evidence of——" Mr. Sopley lost the +thread of his discourse, and once more returned to his contemplation +of Mr. Hearty's ceiling. Bindle beat his fist on the table; but was +silenced by a "Husssssssh" from several of the guests.</p> + +<p>"Marriages," continued Mr. Sopley, "marriages are made in heaven——"</p> + +<p>"I knew you was goin' to say that, sir," broke in Bindle +cheerfully. "'Ere, stop it!" he yelled, stooping down to rub +his shin. "Who's a-kickin' me under the table?" he fixed a +suspicious eye upon a winter-worn spinster in a vieux rose satin +blouse sitting opposite.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Marriage is a thing of terrible solemnity," resumed Mr. Sopley, +"not to be entered upon lightly, or with earthly thoughts. It is +symbolical of many things, sometimes terrible things—("'Ere, +'ere!" interposed Bindle)—but throughout all its vicissitudes, in +spite of all earthly woes, desolation, and despair, it should be +remembered that there is One above to Whom all prayers should +be directed, and in Whom all hope should be reposed.</p> + +<p>"In the course of the long life that the Lord has granted me, I have +joined together in holy wedlock many young couples—("Shame!" from +Bindle, and a laugh from Mr. Dixon),—and I hope our young friends +here will find in it that meed of happiness which we all wish them."</p> + +<p>In spite of the entire lack of conviction with which Mr. Sopley +wished the bridal pair happiness, he resumed his seat amidst +murmurs of approval. His words were too solemn to be followed +by applause from anyone save Bindle, who tapped the table +loudly with the butt-end of his knife. Everyone looked towards +Charlie Dixon, who in turn looked appealingly at Bindle.</p> + +<p>Interpreting the glance to mean that Bindle contemplated +replying, Mrs. Bindle kicked him beneath the table.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, who's kicking me on the shins again?" he cried as he +rose. Mrs. Bindle frowned at him. "Oh, it's you, is it?" he +remarked. "Now, Charlie, you see what's goin' to 'appen to you +now you're married. Been kickin' my shins all the mornin', she +'as, me with 'various' veins in my legs too."</p> + +<p>Bindle looked at Millie; it was obvious that she was on the +point of tears. Charlie Dixon was gazing down at her solicitously. +Mr. Dixon was clearly annoyed. At the conclusion of Mr. Sopley's +address he had cleared his throat impressively, as if prepared +to enter the lists. Mrs. Dixon gazed anxiously at her son. +Mr. Hearty looked at Mrs. Bindle. Mrs. Bindle's eyes were fixed +on Bindle. Bindle rose deliberately.</p> + +<p>"If ever I wants to get married again," began Bindle, looking +at Mr. Sopley, "I'll come to you, sir, to tie me up. It'll sort o' +prepare me for the worst; but I got to wait till Mrs. B. 'ops it +with the lodger; not 'ole Guppy," he added, "'e's gone."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dixon laughed loudly; into Mrs. Bindle's cheeks there stole +a flush of anger.</p> + +<p>"Well!" continued Bindle, "I promised Charlie that 'e +shouldn't 'ave no speeches to make, an' so I'm on my 'ind +legs a-givin' thanks for all them cheerful things wot we jest +'eard about. I ain't altogether a believer in 'ow to be 'appy +though married; but this 'ere gentleman—(Bindle indicated Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +Sopley by a jerk of his thumb)—well, 'e can give me points. No +one didn't ought to 'ave such ideas wot ain't done time for +bigamy. I can see now why there ain't no givin' an' takin' +in marriage up there;" and Bindle raised his eyes to the ceiling. +"I got a new respect for 'eaven, I 'ave.</p> + +<p>"I don't rightly understand wot 'e means by 'a vale o' tears,' or +'walkin' 'and in 'and along the valley o' the shadow.' P'raps they're +places 'e's been to abroad. I seen a good deal o' wanderin' 'and in +'and along the river between Putney an' 'Ammersmith, I'm a special, +you know. I 'ad to ask the sergeant to change my dooty. Used to make +me 'ot all over, it did.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing where you're wrong, sir." Bindle turned +to Mr. Sopley, who reluctantly brought his eyes down from +the ceiling to gaze vacantly at Bindle. "You said this 'ere +marriage was made in 'eaven. Well, it wasn't; it was made in +Fulham."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dixon smiled. Mr. Dixon guffawed. Mr. Hearty looked +anxiously from Mrs. Bindle to Mr. Sopley.</p> + +<p>"I made it myself, so I ought to know," proceeded Bindle. +"I seen a good deal o' them two kids." He looked affectionately +at Millie. "An' if they ain't goin' to be 'appy in Fulham instead +o' wanderin' about vales and valleys a-snivellin', you got one up +against Joe Bindle.</p> + +<p>"I remember once 'earin' a parson say that when we died and +went to the sort of Ole Bailey in the sky, we should be asked if +we'd ever done anybody a good turn. If we 'ad, then we'd got +a sportin' chance. When I'm dead I can see myself a-knockin' +at them golden gates of 'eaven, sort o' registered letter knock +wot means an answer's wanted. When they ask me if I ever +done anyone a good turn, I shall say I got Millikins an' Charlie +Dixon tied up.</p> + +<p>"'Right-o, ole sport!' they'll say, ''op in.'</p> + +<p>"An' I shall nip in quick before they can bang the gates to, +like they do on the tube. Then I shall see ole 'Earty, all wings +an' whiskers, a-playin' rag-time on an 'arp."</p> + +<p>Again Mr. Dixon's hearty laugh rang out. "Splendid!" he +cried. "Splendid!"</p> + +<p>"I seen a good deal o' marriage one way an' another. Me an' +Mrs. B. 'ave been tied up a matter o' nineteen years, an' look +at 'er. Don't she look 'appy?"</p> + +<p>Everybody turned to regard Mrs. Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Then," continued Bindle, "there's 'Earty. Look at 'im. +One of the jolliest coves I know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mechanically all eyes were directed towards Mr. Hearty.</p> + +<p>"It all depends 'ow you goes about marriage. There's one +thing you got to remember before you gets married: bottles is +returnable, likewise new-laid eggs wot ain't new laid; but you +can't return your missus, not even if you pays the carriage. +It's a lifer, is marriage.</p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' to make a long speech, because the pubs close +at 'alf-past two, an' you'll all want to wash the taste o' this 'ere +lemonade out o' your mouths."</p> + +<p>Bindle paused and looked at the now happy faces of Millie +and Charlie Dixon. For a moment he gazed at them, then with +suddenness he resumed his seat, conscious that his voice had +failed him and that he was blinking and swallowing with unnecessary +vigour. The silence was broken only by the loud thumping on the +table of Mr. Dixon.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" he cried. "Bravo! one of the best speeches I've +ever heard. Excellent! Splendid!"</p> + +<p>Everybody looked at everybody else, as if wondering what +would happen next, and obviously deploring Mr. Dixon's misguided +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Alice solved the problem by entering and whispering to Millie +that the taxi was at the door. This was a signal for a general +movement, a pushing back of chairs and shuffling of feet as the +guests rose.</p> + +<p>Charlie Dixon walked across to Bindle.</p> + +<p>"Get us off quickly, Uncle Joe, will you," he whispered. +"Millie doesn't think she can stand much more."</p> + +<p>"Right-o, Charlie!" replied Bindle. "Leave it to me."</p> + +<p>"Now then, 'urry up, 'urry up!" he called out. "You'll lose +that train, come along. Once aboard the motor and the gal is +mine! Now, Charlie, where's your cap? I'll see about the +luggage."</p> + +<p>Almost before anyone knew what was happening, they were +gazing at the tail-end of a taxi-cab being driven rapidly eastward. +When it had disappeared over the bridge, Bindle turned away +and found himself blinking into the moist eyes of Mrs. Dixon. +He coughed violently, then, as she smiled through her tears, he +remarked:</p> + +<p>"Ain't I an ole fool, mum?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bindle," she said in a voice that was none too well under +control, "I think you have been their fairy-godmother."</p> + +<p>"Well I am a bit of an ole woman at times," remarked Bindle, +swallowing elaborately. "Now I must run after my little bit of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +'eaven, or else she'll be off with Ole Woe-and-Whiskers. It's +wonderful 'ow misery seems to attract some women."</p> + +<p>He took two steps towards the door, then turning to Mrs. +Dixon said:</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry, mum, 'e'll come back all right. Gawd +ain't a-goin' to spoil the 'appiness of them two young kids."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dixon's tears were now raining fast down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bindle," she said, "you must be a very good man."</p> + +<p>Bindle stared at her for a moment in astonishment, and then +turned and walked through the Heartys' private door.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered. "Fancy 'er a-sayin' that. +I wonder wot ole 'Earty 'ud think. Well, I'm blowed! 'Ere, +come along, sir!" he cried to Mr. Dixon. "It's a quarter past +two, we jest got a quarter of an hour;" and the two men passed +down the High Street in the direction of Putney Bridge.</p> + + +<h5>THE END</h5> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<img src="images/coverb.jpg" width="100%" alt="Back Cover" title="Back Cover" /> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Adventures of Bindle, by Herbert George Jenkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES OF BINDLE *** + +***** This file should be named 32285-h.htm or 32285-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/2/8/32285/ + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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