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diff --git a/32285.txt b/32285.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1e1a95 --- /dev/null +++ b/32285.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9475 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES OF BINDLE *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ADVENTURES OF BINDLE + + + WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ + + THE BINDLES ON THE ROCKS + BINDLE + THE NIGHT CLUB + JOHN DENE OF TORONTO + MALCOLM SAGE, DETECTIVE + MRS. BINDLE + PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER + THE RETURN OF ALFRED + THE RAIN GIRL + THE STIFFSONS + and other stories + + + + + ADVENTURES OF BINDLE + + _by_ + HERBERT JENKINS + + + HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED + 3 DUKE OF YORK STREET, ST. JAMES'S + LONDON, S.W.I + + + [Illustration: A HERBERT JENKINS BOOK] + + _Twelfth printing, completing 167,461 copies_ + + + MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY PURNELL AND SONS LTD., + PAULTON (SOMERSET) AND LONDON + + + + + TO + + THE CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END + + + There are Fairies in the city, + There are Fairies on the down, + When Wee Hughie comes from Ireland + To visit London Town. + + There is sunshine in the dungeon, + There is starlight in the grave, + If June will but remember + The things that April gave. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. THE COMING OF THE LODGER 9 + II. A DOWNING STREET SENSATION 20 + III. THE AIR-RAID 35 + IV. THE DUPLICATION OF MR. HEARTY 41 + V. THE GATHERING OF THE BANDS 50 + VI. MR. GUPPERDUCK'S MISHAP 61 + VII. THE COURTING OF THE REV. ANDREW MACFIE 69 + VIII. THE CHAPEL CONVERSAZIONE 80 + IX. THE LETTING OF NUMBER SIX 95 + X. THE DOWNFALL OF MR. JABEZ STIFFSON 105 + XI. THE CAMOUFLAGING OF MR. GUPPERDUCK 117 + XII. THE TRAGEDY OF GIUSEPPI ANTONIO TOLMENICINO 123 + XIII. THE RETURN OF CHARLIE DIXON 135 + XIV. MR. HEARTY YIELDS 142 + XV. A BILLETING ADVENTURE 150 + XVI. MILLIE'S WEDDING 162 + + + + + _All the characters in this book are entirely imaginary and + have no relation whatsoever to any living persons._ + + + + + ADVENTURES OF BINDLE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE COMING OF THE LODGER + + +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. + +"Anythink wrong?" he enquired solicitously, gazing at Mrs. Bindle +over the top of the evening paper. + +"Wrong!" she cried. "Is there anything right?" + +"Well, there's beer, an' Beatty, an' the boys wot's fightin'," began +Bindle suggestively. + +"Don't talk to me!" Mrs. Bindle banged a plate of stew in front of +Bindle, to which he applied himself earnestly. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You think of nothing but your stomach," Mrs. Bindle continued +angrily. "Look at you now!" + +"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." + +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. + +Mrs. Bindle rose from the table. Bindle watched her curiously; it was +never wise to enquire what course was to follow. + +"I answered an advertisement to-day," she announced, as she banged an +apple-pie on the table. + +With difficulty Bindle withdrew his interest from the pie to Mrs. +Bindle's statement. + +"You don't say so," he remarked pleasantly. + +"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. + +Bindle regarded her uncomprehendingly. + +"In _The Gospel Sentinel_." 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. + +Bindle picked up the paper. The spot indicated was the column headed +"Wanted." He read: + + "CHRISTIAN HOME wanted by a single gentleman, chapel-goer, + temperance, quiet, musical, home-comforts, good-cooking, + moderate terms. References given and required. Apply Lonely, + c/o _The Gospel Sentinel_." + +Bindle looked up from the paper at Mrs. Bindle. + +"Well?" she challenged. + +He turned once more to the paper and re-read the advertisement with +great deliberation, forgetful of his fast-cooling plate. + +"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." + +"Eat your pie," snapped Mrs. Bindle, "perhaps it'll stop your mouth." + +Bindle applied himself to the apple-pie with obvious relish, glancing +from time to time at _The Gospel Sentinel_. + +"Well?" demanded Mrs. Bindle once more. + +"I was jest wonderin'," said Bindle. + +"What about?" + +"I was jest wonderin'," continued Bindle, "why we want a lodger, us +like two love-birds a-singin' an' a-cooin' all day long." + +"What about the housekeeping?" demanded Mrs. Bindle aggressively. + +"The 'ousekeepin'?" enquired Bindle innocently. + +"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----" + +"'Ell," suggested Bindle helpfully. + +"How am I to make both ends meet?" she demanded. + +"I suppose they must meet?" he enquired tentatively. + +"Don't be a fool, Bindle!" was the response. + +"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." + +Bindle paused and shook his head mournfully. + +"Horace who?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. + +"'Orace Gaze," replied Bindle. "Nice cove too, 'e is. + +"''Ullo! 'Orace,' I calls out, when I see 'im jest a-comin' from the +station with all 'is kit. + +"'Cheerio,' says 'e. + +"'The missis'll be glad to see you,' I says. + +"'She don't know I'm 'ere yet,' 'e says. + +"'Didn't you send 'er a telegram?' I asks. + +"'Telegram!' says 'e, 'not 'arf.' + +"'Why not?' + +"'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. + +"'What is it?' I asks 'im. + +"'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!'" + +"I won't listen to your disgusting stories," said Mrs. Bindle angrily. + +"Disgustin'?" said Bindle incredulously. + +"You've a lewd mind, Bindle." + +"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." + +"You'll have to be careful when the lodger comes." There was a note of +grim warning in Mrs. Bindle's voice. + +"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." + +"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. + +"My wages! why, I'm gettin'----" + +"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. + +"I ain't, Mrs. B.," replied Bindle good-humouredly, "I ain't worth +'alf the love wot women 'ave 'ad for me." + +Mrs. Bindle sniffed. "You always was fond of your food," she +continued, as if reluctant to let slip a topic so incontrovertible. + +"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. + +Mrs. Bindle made an unprovoked attack upon the kitchen fire. + +"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 _The Gospel Sentinel_. "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." + +"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." + +"'Ow could you!" cried Bindle reproachfully, as he proceeded to light +his pipe. "Me----" + +"Don't do that!" snapped Mrs. Bindle. + +Bindle regarded her over the flaming match with eyebrows raised +interrogatingly. + +"Perhaps he doesn't smoke," she explained. + +"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!" + +He looked about him as if in search of sympathy. Then turning to Mrs. +Bindle, he demanded: + +"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. + +"It doesn't matter after he's here," Mrs. Bindle responded sagely. + +Slowly the set-expression vanished from Bindle's face; the wrinkles +and twitches returned, and he breathed a sigh of elaborate relief. + +"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. + +"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----" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"'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. + +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. + +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. + +Mrs. Bindle seated herself opposite to him and, smoothing her skirt, +"folded 'er 'ands on 'er supper," as Bindle had once expressed it. + +"He's coming Monday," she proclaimed with the air of one announcing an +event of grave national importance. + +"Does 'e smoke?" enquired Bindle anxiously. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Wot's disgustin'?" demanded Bindle. + +"Him, watching men making beasts of themselves," retorted Mrs. Bindle. + +"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'----" + +"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. + +"'Earty like Alf! 'Old me, 'Orace!" cried Bindle. + +"I meant Mr. Gupperduck," said Mrs. Bindle with dignity. + +"Mr. Wot-a-duck!" Bindle cried, his interest too evident for +concealment. + +"Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," repeated Mrs. Bindle with unction. "That is +his name." + +Bindle whistled, a long low sound of joy and wonder. "Well, I'm +damned!" he exclaimed. + +"Don't you swear before me, Joseph Bindle," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily; +"for I won't stand it." + +"Gupperduck!" repeated Bindle with obvious enjoyment. "Sounds like a +patent mackintosh." + +"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. + +"Is it the jew's 'arp, or the drum wot 'e plays?" enquired Bindle +presently. + +"It's neither," replied Mrs. Bindle, "it's the accordion." + +Bindle groaned. Mentally he visualised Mr. Hearty's hymn-singing +Sunday evenings, plus Mr. Gupperduck and his accordion. + +"Well, well!" he remarked philosophically, "I suppose we're none of us +perfect." + +"He's a very good man, an' he's goin' to join our chapel," announced +Mrs. Bindle with satisfaction. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Nations rose and declined, kings came and went, emperors soared and +fell; but the lodger stayed on. + +Bindle looked forward to the coming of Mr. Gupperduck with keen +interest. Since the evening of his call, Mrs. Bindle had become +uncommunicative. + +"Wot's 'e do?" Bindle had enquired. + +"He's engaged upon the Lord's work," she had replied, and proved +unamenable to all further interrogation. + +On the Monday Bindle was home from work early, only to be informed +that Mr. Gupperduck would not arrive until eight o'clock. + +"Now you just be careful what you say, Bindle," Mrs. Bindle had +admonished him as she busied herself with innumerable saucepans upon +the stove. + +"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. + +"He's temperance," replied Mrs. Bindle with unction. + +"Well, I 'ope 'e looks it," was Bindle's comment as he went out. + +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. + +When he returned to Fenton Street, Mr. Gupperduck had arrived. +Depositing the jug upon the table with deliberation, Bindle turned to +welcome the guest. + +"Pleased to see you, Mr. Gutter----" He paused, the name had +momentarily escaped him. + +"Gupperduck, Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," volunteered the lodger. + +"It ain't easy, is it?" said Bindle cheerfully. "Must 'ave caused you +a rare lot o' trouble, a name like that." + +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. + +"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." + +"Been a pleasant day," remarked Bindle conversationally, quite +forgetful that it had rained continuously since early morning. + +"Pleasant!" interrogated Mr. Gupperduck. + +Bindle suddenly remembered. "For the ducks, I mean," he said; then +with inspiration added, "not for Gupperducks." + +"Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle. "You forget yourself." + +"Oh, don't mind me, Mr. G.," said Bindle; "there ain't no real 'arm in +me." + +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. + +"Can't get an 'ead like that on lemonade," he remarked cheerfully. + +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. + +"Well, 'ere's long legs to the baby!" cried Bindle, raising his glass +and drinking thirstily. + +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. + +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. + +After a time Mr. Gupperduck began to show signs that the first ardour +of his appetite had been appeased. + +"If it ain't a rude question, mister," began Bindle, "might I ask +wot's your job?" + +"I'm in the service of the Lord," replied Mr. Gupperduck in a harsh +tone. + +"Trade union wages?" queried Bindle with assumed innocence. + +"Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle, "behave yourself." + +"I am a sower of the seed," said Mr. Gupperduck pompously and with +evident self-satisfaction. + +"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." + +"I refer to the spiritual seed," said Mr. Gupperduck. "I preach the +word of God, the peace that passeth all understanding." + +Bindle groaned inwardly, and silence fell once more over the board. + +"Mrs. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck at length, "you have given me a +most excellent supper." + +Mrs. Bindle's lips became slightly visible. + +"The Lord shall feed his flock," remarked Mr. Gupperduck apropos of +nothing in particular, "and----" + +"'E keeps a few little pickin's for 'Is Gupperducks," flashed Bindle. + +"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. + +"And what are the tenets of your spiritual faith, Mr. Bindle?" Mr. +Gupperduck suddenly turned and addressed himself to Bindle. + +"Wot's my wot?" enquired Bindle with corrugated forehead. + +"He's a blasphemer, Mr. Gupperduck, I'm sorry to say," volunteered +Mrs. Bindle. + +Mr. Gupperduck regarded Bindle as if Mrs. Bindle had said he was the +"Missing Link." + +"Mr. Bindle," he said earnestly, "have you ever thought of the other +world?" + +"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." + +"I fear you speak lightly of serious things, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. +Gupperduck harshly. "Think of when the trumpet shall sound +incorruptible and----!" + +"Think o' when the all-clear bugle sounds in Fulham," responded +Bindle. + +Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs. Bindle in horror. + +"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." + +Mr. Gupperduck seemed to come to the conclusion that Bindle was +hopeless. For the next half-hour he devoted himself to conversing +with Mrs. Bindle about "the message" he was engaged in delivering. + +"You plays, don't you?" enquired Bindle, as Mr. Gupperduck rose. + +"I am very fond of my accordion," replied Mr. Gupperduck. + +"I suppose you couldn't give us a tune?" ventured Bindle. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Then the storm burst. + +"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. + +"Me?" enquired Bindle in obvious surprise. + +"What must he think of us?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. "You with your lewd +and blasphemous talk." + +"Wot 'ave I done now?" enquired Bindle in an injured tone. + +"Talkin' about babies' legs, and--and--oh! you make me ashamed, you +do." Mrs. Bindle proceeded to bang away the supper things. + +"Steady on," admonished Bindle, "or you'll 'ave the Duck out o' bed." + +"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. + +"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." + +Mrs. Bindle paused in the act of pouring water over the piled-up +dishes in the sink. + +"As soon as you sees another cove wot takes your fancy, you sort o' +loses your taste for your own 'usband." + +Bindle seated himself at the table and spread out the evening paper. + +"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!" + +"That's quite different," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily. "Mr. Gupperduck +is----" + +"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!" + +"Bindle, you're a dirty-minded beast," retorted Mrs. Bindle, snapping +her jaws viciously. + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DOWNING STREET SENSATION + + +"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?" + +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. + +The foreman explained in the idiom adopted by foreman that "orders is +orders." + +"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 told, an' bring back them ruddy 'orses +'ere, an' don't you forget it." + +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. + +"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. + +"On 'is tail," replied Tippitt laconically, his cigarette wagging up +and down as he spoke. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"A wot?" enquired Spotty dully. + +"A ladder," explained Bindle. "I got to mount this 'ere Derby winner." + +Spotty strolled leisurely across the yard towards Bindle, and for a +moment stood regarding the horse in a detached sort of way. + +"I'll give you a leg up, mate," he said accommodatingly. + +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. + +"Steady on, ole sport," he counselled Spotty. "Don't you chuck me +clean over the other side." + +With a dexterous heave, Spotty landed him well upon the animal's back. +Bindle calmly proceeded to throw one leg over, sitting astride. + +"Not that way," said Tippitt, "both legs on the near side." + +"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, "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." + +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. + +"'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!" + +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. + +"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." + +Tippitt stretched out his hand and brought both horses to a +standstill. Bindle slipped ungracefully over his animal's tail. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +When Tippitt reached the extreme end of Wimbledon Common, Bindle rose +from the grass by the roadside, where he had been leisurely smoking +and enjoying the warmth. + +"'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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Married, mate!" Tippitt vouchsafed the information without expression +or interest. + +Bindle stood still and looked at him. + +Tippitt unconcernedly continued on his way. + +"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." + +Just outside Merton they came upon a stranded pantechnicon. Drawn up +in front of it was a motor-car containing two ladies. + +"This the little lot?" enquired Bindle as they pulled up beside the +vehicle, which bore the name of John Smith & Company, Merton. + +"Are you from Empson & Daleys?" enquired the elder of the two ladies, +a sallow-faced, angular woman with pince-nez. + +"That's us, mum," responded Bindle. + +"I suppose those are the horses," remarked the same lady, indicating +the animals with an inclination of her head. + +"You ain't got much to learn in the way o' guessing, mum," was +Bindle's cheery response. + +The lady eyed him disapprovingly. Her companion at the wheel smiled. +She was younger. Bindle winked at her; but she froze instantly. + +"The horses that were in this van were taken ill," said the lady. + +"Wot, both together, mum!" exclaimed Bindle. + +"Yes," replied the lady, looking at him sharply. + +"Must 'ave been twins or conchies,"[1] 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." + + [1] Conscientious objectors to military service. + +Bindle walked up to the van and examined it, as if to assure himself +that it was in no way defective. + +"An' where are we to take it, mum?" he enquired. + +"To Mr. Llewellyn John, Number 110, Downing Street," was the reply. + +Bindle whistled. "'E ain't movin', is 'e, mum?" + +"The van contains a presentation of carved-oak dining-room furniture," +she added. + +"An' very nice too," was Bindle's comment. + +"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." + +"'Adn't we better take the key now, mum?" Bindle enquired. + +"You'll do as you're told, please," was the uncompromising rejoinder. + +"Right-o! mum," remarked Bindle cheerily. "Now then, Tippy, let's get +these 'ere 'orses in. Which end d'you begin on?" + +Tippitt and Bindle silently busied themselves in harnessing the horses +to the pantechnicon. + +"Now you won't make any mistake," said the lady when everything was +completed. "Number 110, Downing Street, Mr. Llewellyn John." + +"There ain't goin' to be no mistakes, mum, you may put your 'and on +your 'eart," Bindle assured her. + +"Cawfee money, mum?" enquired Tippitt. "It's 'ot." Tippitt never +wasted words. + +"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." + +The lady hesitated for a moment, then taking her purse from her bag, +handed Bindle a two-shilling piece. + +Tippitt eyed it greedily. + +With a final admonition not to forget, the lady drove off. + +Bindle looked at the coin, spat on it, and put it in his pocket. + +"Funny thing 'ow a woman'll give a couple o' bob, where a man'll make +it 'alf a dollar," he remarked. + +"Wot about me?" enquired Tippitt. + +"Wot about you, Tippy?" repeated Bindle. "Well, least said soonest +mended. You can't 'elp it." + +"But I asked 'er," persisted Tippitt. + +"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." + +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. + +"Good job they ain't all like me," he muttered. "I likes a day in the +country, now _and_ then; but always! Not me." He struck a match, +lighted his pipe and, with a sigh of contentment, composed himself to +bucolic meditation. + +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--_some_ life that." + +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. + +Bindle grinned back, although not quite understanding the cause of the +man's amusement. + +"'Ot little lot that, mate," remarked the man, stepping off the kerb +and walking beside the tailboard. + +Bindle looked at him, puzzled at the remark. + +"Wot exactly might you be meanin', ole son?" he enquired. + +"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. + +Bindle slipped off the tail-board and joined the man, who had returned +to the pavement. + +"You evidently seen a joke wot's caught me on the blind side," he +remarked casually. + +"A joke," remarked the man; "a whole van-load of jokes, if you was to +ask me." + +"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," he added. "You seem to be a +sort of joke-'og, you do." Bindle turned and regarded his companion +with interest. + +"You mean to say you don't know wot's inside that there van?" enquired +the man incredulously. + +"Carved-oak dinin'-room furniture, I been told," replied Bindle +indifferently. + +The man laughed loudly. Then turned to Bindle. "You mean to say you +don't know that van's full o' gals?" he demanded. + +"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. + +"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. + +Bindle gave vent to a low, prolonged whistle as he resumed his walk. + +"'Old me, 'Orace!" he cried happily. "Wot 'ud Mrs. B. say if she +knew." Suddenly he paused again, and slapped his knee. + +"Well, I'm damned!" he cried. "A raid, of course." + +The man looked anxiously up at the blue of the sky. + +"It's all right," said Bindle reassuringly. "My mistake; it was a +bird." + +A few minutes later the man turned off from the main road. + +"Hi! Tippy," Bindle hailed, "don't you forget that stone-ginger at the +next dairy." + +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! + +"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. + +When Bindle had drained to the last drop his second pewter, his mind +was made up. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Right-o! mate," replied Tippitt. + +Bindle walked along Wimbledon High Street and turned into an oil-shop. + +"D'you keep lamp black?" he enquired of the young woman behind the +counter. + +"Yes," she replied. "How much do you want, we sell it in packets?" + +"Let's 'ave a look at a packet," said Bindle. + +When he had examined it, he ordered two more. + +"Startin' a minstrel troupe," he confided to the young woman. + +"But you want burnt cork," she said practically; "lamp black's greasy. +You'll never get it off." + +"That's jest why I want it," remarked Bindle with a grin. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Now up you get, Tippy," admonished Bindle, "an' there's another drink +for you at The Green Lion." Bindle knew his London. + +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." + +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: + +"I knew we was goin' to 'ave a shower," and he proceeded to water the +top of the pantechnicon. "Now I must put this 'ere tarpaulin over, or +else the water'll get through them 'oles," he said. + +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. + +The barman of The Green Lion had been watching Bindle with +open-mouthed astonishment. + +"What the 'ell are you up to, mate?" he whispered. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +By the time they turned from the King's Road into Ebury Street, +Bindle's task was accomplished--the lamp-black was exhausted. + +"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." + +He had been conscious of suppressed coughing and sneezing from within, +which he detected by placing his ear near the holes in the roof. + +Opposite the Houses of Parliament, a lady came up to Bindle and handed +him a key. "This is the key of the pantechnicon," she said loudly. +"You are not to undo it until you reach Number 110, Downing Street. Do +you understand?" + +"Right-o!" remarked Bindle, "I got it." + +"Now don't forget!" said the lady, and she disappeared swiftly in the +direction of Victoria Street. + +"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." + +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. + +A few yards south of Downing Street, an inspector of police was +meditatively contemplating the flow of traffic north and south. + +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." + +The inspector was a man of quick decision and, looking keenly at +Bindle, decided that he was to be trusted. + +"Right!" he said, then extending an official arm, pointed out Downing +Street to Bindle. "Don't hurry," he added. + +"Right-o!" said Bindle. "Joseph Bindle's my name. I'm a special, +Fulham district." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Where are you going to?" called out the inspector to Tippitt, taking +no notice of Bindle. + +Tippitt jerked his thumb in the direction of Bindle, who came forward +at that moment. + +"Number 110, Downing Street, sir," responded Bindle. "Some furniture +for Mr. Llewellyn John." + +"Right!" said the inspector loudly; "but you'll have to wait a few +minutes until that motor-car has gone." + +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. + +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. + +After a wait of nearly ten minutes, the inspector re-appeared. "It's +all clear now," he remarked. "Draw up." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +Tippitt, who had climbed down, was standing close to the tail-board +facing the doors. + +With a quick movement Bindle released the padlock from the hasp and, +lifting the bar, stepped aside with an agility that was astonishing. + +"Votes for Women! Votes for Women!! Votes for Women!!!" + +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. + +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 entangled in its sleeves, sat +down with a suddenness that caused his teeth to rattle and his +cigarette to fall from his lower lip. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At the first-floor window Mr. Llewellyn John watched the scene with +keen enjoyment. + +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!" + +But there was no answering cry from the ranks. Slowly it dawned upon +each and every woman that in all probability she 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. + +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. + +"Christy Minstrels, ain't they?" enquired one youth of another with +ponderous humour. + +It was at the moment that one of them had raised a despairing cry of +"Votes for Women," and had received no support. + +"Votes for Women!" remarked one man shrewdly. "Soap for Women! is what +they want." + +"Fancy comin' out like that, even in wartime," commented another. + +"'Ow'd they get like that?" enquired a third. + +"Oh, you never know them suffragettes," remarked a fourth sagely; +"they're always out for doing something different from what's been +done before." + +"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. + +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: + +"You cannot stand about here, you must be moving on." + +"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 manoeuvre, and +had carefully closed, barred and padlocked the doors. + +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. + +"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. + +"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 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. + +Slowly amidst the jeers of the crowd the twenty women were shepherded +into Whitehall. + +"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." + +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. + +In Whitehall frantic appeals were made to drivers of taxicabs and +conductorettes of omnibuses. None would accept such fares. + +"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?" + +"Go 'ome and wash the baby," shouted another. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Was that your doing?" enquired the inspector. + +"Well," replied Bindle, "it was an' it wasn't," and he explained how +it had all come about. + +"And what am I goin' to do with this 'ere van?" he queried. + +"Better run it round to 'the Yard,' then you can take home the +horses," replied the inspector. + +"Right-o!" said Bindle. + +"By the way," added the inspector, "I'm coming round myself. I should +like you to see Chief-Inspector Gunny." + +Bindle nodded cheerily. "'Ullo, Tippy!" he cried, "knocked you down, +didn't they?" + +Tippitt grinned, he had thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment and bore +no malice. + +"That's why you got the watering-can, mate?" he remarked. + +Bindle surveyed him with mock admiration. + +"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. + +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. + +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." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE AIR-RAID + + +I + +"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." + +Mr. Hearty looked at Mr. Gupperduck and Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs. +Bindle. They required time in which to assimilate so profound an +utterance. + +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. + +"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.'" + +Mr. Hearty looked gratefully at his guest. It was pleasant to find +Bindle controverted. + +"You know, Alf, you never been so much at 'ome," wheezed Mrs. Hearty, +hitting her chest remorselessly. "You never go out on moonlight +nights." + +"You trust 'im," said Bindle. "'Earty an' the moon ain't never out +together." + +"We are told to take cover," said Mr. Hearty with dignity. + +"An' wot about us pore fellers wot 'as to be out in it all?" demanded +Bindle, looking down at his special constable's uniform. + +"You should commend yourself to God," said Mr. Gupperduck piously. "He +that putteth his trust in Him shall not be afraid." + +"Ain't you afraid then when there's a raid on?" demanded Bindle. + +"I have no fear of earthly things," replied Mr. Gupperduck, lifting +his eyes to the ceiling. + +"'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 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." + +"There is One above who watches over us all, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty, +emboldened to unaccustomed temerity by the presence of Mr. Gupperduck. + +"Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck, "our lives and our happiness are in +God's hands, wherefore should we feel afraid?" + +"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." + +"The hour of repentance should not be deferred," said Mr. Gupperduck. +"It is not too late even now." + +"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." + +"'Oh ye of little faith!'" murmured Mr. Gupperduck mournfully. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"It's my breath," responded Mrs. Hearty, patting her ample bosom. "It +gets me here." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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-singin' 'ymns about all sorts of +uncomfortable things wot you says you 'opes to find in 'eaven." + +"You have a jaundiced view of religion, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. +Gupperduck ponderously. "A jaundiced view," he repeated, pleased with +the phrase. + +"'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." + +"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." + +Instinctively each of the three looked at the other two. Mr. +Gupperduck shook his head hopelessly. + +"You don't understand, Joseph," murmured Mr. Hearty with mournful +resignation. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Do you think there'll be an air-raid to-night?" asked Mr. Gupperduck +with something more than casual interest in his voice. + +"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?" + +"Don't be disgusting, Bindle." There was anger in Mrs. Bindle's voice. + +"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'." + +Bindle paused to wink at Mr. Hearty. + +"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." + +"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!" + +Mr. Gupperduck started into an upright position with eyes dilated as a +loud report was heard. + +"What was that?" he cried. + +"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.'" + +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. + +"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." + +Bindle turned and left the room, his niece Millie following him out +into the passage. + +"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." + +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. + + +II + +Two hours later Bindle's ring at the Heartys' bell was answered by +Millie. + +"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. + +"You ain't been frightened, Millikins, 'ave you?" enquired Bindle +solicitously. + +"A soldier's wife isn't afraid, Uncle Joe," she replied bravely. +Millie's sweetheart, Charlie Dixon, was at the front. + +"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. + +"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----" + +"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." + +Bindle walked into the Heartys' parlour, where Mrs. Hearty was seated +on the sofa half asleep. + +"'Ullo, Martha!" he cried. + +"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. + +Bindle looked about him curiously. + +"'Ullo! wot's 'appened to them three little cherubs?" he enquired. + +Mrs. Hearty began to shake and wheeze with laughter, and Millie stood +looking at Bindle. + +"Wot's 'appened, Millikins?" he enquired. "Done a bunk, 'ave they?" + +"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. + +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!" + +"Don't laugh, Uncle Joe," began Millie, "I--I----" She broke off, +unable to express what was in her mind. + +"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." + +Mr. Hearty's potato-cellar was reached through a trap-door flush with +the floor of the shop. + +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. + +"Oh! Uncle Joe, what has happened?" she cried. "Are you hurt?" + +"It's all right, Millikins, knocked over these 'ere scales I did. +Ain't I clumsy? 'Ush!" + +Moans and cries could be distinctly heard from below. + +"'Ere, 'elp me gather 'em up, Millikins. I 'ope I 'aven't broken the +scales." + +Having replaced the scales and weights on the counter, Bindle +proceeded to pull up the trap-door. + +"All clear!" he shouted cheerily. + +There was no response, only a moaning from the extreme corner of the +cellar. + +"'Ere, come along, 'Earty. Wot d'you two mean by takin' my missis down +into a cellar like that?" + +"Is it gone?" quavered a voice that Bindle assumed must be that of Mr. +Gupperduck. + +"Is wot gone?" he enquired. + +"The bomb," whispered the voice. + +"Oh, come up, Gupperduck," said Bindle. "Don't play the giddy goat in +the potato-cellar. Wot about you puttin' your trust in Gawd?" + +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. + +"Wot 'ave you done with my missis?" demanded Bindle. + +"She--she--she's down there," stuttered Mr. Gupperduck. + +"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." + +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. + +For one moment a grin flitted across Bindle's features, then, seeing +Mrs. Bindle's pathetic plight, his manner changed. + +"'Ere, Millikins, get some water," he cried. "Your Aunt Lizzie's +fainted." + +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 forehead, and a piece of +brown paper burned under her nose by Mrs. Hearty. + +She had not lost consciousness; but stared about her in a vague, +half-dazed fashion. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"It was sweet of you not to laugh at them, Uncle Joe," said Millie, as +they stood at the door waiting for Mr. Gupperduck. + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DUPLICATION OF MR. HEARTY + + +I + +"You've never been a real husband to me," burst out Mrs. Bindle +stormily. + +Bindle did not even raise his eyes from his favourite dish of +stewed-steak-and-onions. + +"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." + +Bindle continued his meal in silent expectation. + +"Look at you!" continued Mrs. Bindle. "Look at you now!" + +Bindle still declined to be drawn into a discussion. + +"Look at Mr. Hearty." Mrs. Bindle uttered her challenge with the air +of one who plays the ace of trumps. + +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. + +"Personally, myself," he remarked calmly, "I'd rather not." + +"Rather not what?" snapped Mrs. Bindle. + +"Look at 'Earty," was the response. + +"You might look at worse men than him," flashed Mrs. Bindle with +rising wrath. + +"I might," replied Bindle, "and then again I might not." + +"Look how he's got on!" challenged Mrs. Bindle. + +After a few moments of silence Bindle remarked more to himself than to +Mrs. Bindle: + +"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." + +Mrs. Bindle proceeded to gather up the plates. + +"Thank you for that stoo," said Bindle as he tilted back his chair +contentedly. + +"You should thank God, not me," was the ungracious retort. + +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. + +"Don't start smoking," snapped Mrs. Bindle, rising from the chair and +going over to the stove. + +Bindle looked up with interested enquiry on his features. + +"There's an apple-pudding," continued Mrs. Bindle. + +Bindle pocketed his pipe with a happy expression on his features. +"Lizzie," he said, "'ow could you treat me like this?" + +"What's the matter now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. + +"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." + +Mrs. Bindle's sole response was a series of bangs, as she proceeded to +turn out the apple-pudding. + +Bindle ate and ate generously. When he had finished he pushed the +plate from him and once more produced his pipe from his pocket. + +"Mrs. B.," he said, "you may be a Christian; but you're a damn fine +cook." + +"Don't use such language to me," was the response, uttered a little +less ungraciously than her previous remarks. + +"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. + +"He's going to open another shop," said Mrs. Bindle. + +"Who, the devil?" enquired Bindle in surprise. + +"It's going to be in Putney High Street," continued Mrs. Bindle, +ignoring Bindle's remark. + +Bindle looked up at her with genuine puzzlement on his features. + +"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." + +"I said Mr. Hearty," retorted Mrs. Bindle angrily. + +"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?" + +"Why haven't you got on?" stormed Mrs. Bindle inconsequently. "Why +haven't you got three shops?" + +"Well!" continued Bindle, "I might 'ave done so, but wot should I sell +in 'em?" + +"You never got on, you lorst every job you ever got. You'd 'ave lorst +me long ago if----" + +"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." + +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 Fete 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. + +He found Dick Little at home and with him his brother Tom, and +"Guggers," now a captain in the Gordons. + +"Hullo! Here's J.B., gug-gug-good," cried Guggers, hurling his +fourteen stone towards the diminutive visitor. + +"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. + +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. + +Bindle had christened him Spit-and-Speak owing to Gugger's habit of +salivating his words. + +When the men were seated, and Bindle was puffing furiously at a big +cigar, he explained the cause of his visit. + +"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." + +"What's up, J.B.?" enquired Dick Little. + +"Well, if the truth's got to be told, sir, I got 'Earty in the +throat." + +"Got what?" enquired Tom Little, grinning. + +"'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." + +"What's he been up to now?" enquired Dick Little. + +"'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." + +"Gug-gug-gave you hell?" interrogated Guggers. + +"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'." + +"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." + +For a few minutes the four men continued to smoke, Dick Little +meditatively, Bindle furiously. It was Bindle who broke the silence. + +"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." + +With this enigmatical utterance, Bindle buried his face in the tankard +that was always kept for him at Dick Little's flat. + +"We might of course celebrate the occasion," murmured Dick Little +meditatively. + +"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!" + +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. + +"It'll cost an 'ell of a lot of money," said Bindle doubtfully as he +rose to go. + +"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----" + +"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." + +And Bindle left Dick Little's flat, rich in the knowledge he possessed +of coming events. + + +II + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"We're not here to be happy," snapped Mrs. Bindle. + +"It ain't always easy to see why some of us is 'ere at all," 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. + +"We're here to do the Lord's work," said Mrs. Bindle sententiously + +"But d'you mean to tell me that Gawd made 'Earty specially to sell +vegetables, 'im with a face like that?" questioned Bindle. + +Mrs. Bindle's reply was in bangs. Sometimes Bindle's literalness was +disconcerting. + +"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." + +"You're a child of Moloch, Joseph Bindle," said Mrs. Bindle. + +"A child o' what-lock?" enquired Bindle "Who's 'e?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Ten minutes later Bindle stood in front of Mr. Hearty's new shop, +aided in his scrutiny by two women and three boys. + +"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." + +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. + +"Cheer-o! 'Earty!" cried Bindle. + +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. + +"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 in the direction of +the bridge, followed by the grins and gazes of the errand boys. + +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. + +It was Mr. Hearty's hour. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'Ullo! 'Earty! Put me down for a cokernut an' an onion." + +Bindle, who had entered at that moment, dug the stranger in the ribs +from behind. He turned round upon his assailant, then 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. + +"Good afternoon, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty at length in his toneless +voice, that always seemed to come from somewhere in the woolly +distance. + +"Good afternoon, Joseph," said the stranger in a voice that was a very +clever imitation of that of Mr. Hearty. + +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. + +"Well, I'm damned!" he ejaculated. "Two 'Earty's." + +"I want a cauliflower, please." It was the stranger who spoke. + +Bindle once more proceeded to regard the stranger critically. + +"I s'pose you're what they call an alibi," he remarked. + +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. + +Bindle whistled, grinned, then he smacked his leg vigorously. + +"My cauliflower, please," said the first man. + +"Good afternoon, Joseph," said the new arrival. The voice was not so +good an imitation. + +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." + +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? + +"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. + +"Martha," he shouted, "Martha, you're wanted!" + +An indistinct sound was heard and a minute later Mrs. Hearty appeared, +enormously fat and wheezing painfully. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +Suddenly Mr. Hearty became galvanised into action. + +"How--how dare you!" he fumed. "Get out of my shop, confound you!" + +"'Earty, 'Earty!" protested Bindle, "fancy you a-usin' language like +that. I'm surprised at you." + +Mr. Hearty looked about him like a caged animal, then suddenly he +turned to Bindle. + +"Joseph," he cried, "I give these men in charge." + +The men regarded Mr. Hearty with melancholy unconcern. + +"Give 'em in charge!" repeated Bindle in surprise. "Wot for?" + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +The six figures themselves settled Bindle's problem by marching +solemnly out of the shop, each with a "Good afternoon, Joseph." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"Me?" queried Bindle innocently; "me at the bottom of wot?" + +"You know something about these men. It's a shame, and this Mr. +Hearty's first day. Look how it's upset him." + +"Now 'ow d'you think I could make six alibis like them----" Bindle's +defence was interrupted by the sound of music. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed, "if it ain't them alibis." + +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." + +A crowd was already gathering. + +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." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GATHERING OF THE BANDS + + +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. 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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +"That's 'im," cried one, "that's Napoleon." + +"No, it ain't," said another, "that's Caesar." + +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. + +"Look! guv'nor, there they are," shouted one of the boys. + +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. + +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: + + ALFRED HEARTY + THE NAPOLEON OF GREENGROCERS + + ALFRED HEARTY + THE CAESAR OF FRUITERERS + + ALFRED HEARTY + THE PRINCE OF POTATO MERCHANTS + + HEARTY'S TWO-SHILLING PINEAPPLE + TRY IT IN YOUR BATH + + HEARTY'S JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES + GENERAL ALLENBY EATS THEM + + THE GERMANS FIGHT FOR + HEARTY'S BRUSSELS SPROUTS + +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: + + EAT HEARTY'S FILBERTS, OH! GILBERT, + THE NUT + NUT-CRACKERS WITH EVERY BAG + + HEARTY'S FRENCH BEANS + SAVED VERDUN + + TRY HEARTY'S JUICY CABBAGES + THEY CURE BALDNESS + + THE FOOD CONTROLLER RECOMMENDS CARROTS + TRY HEARTY'S--I HAVE + + ALFRED HEARTY + KNOWN AS PINEAPPLE ALF + + IF YOU DON'T BUY YOUR VEGETABLES + FROM ALFRED HEARTY + YOU WILL BE WHAT I AM + +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. + +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 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. + +Suddenly a new sensation dwarfed that of the donkeys. + +"Here's another! here's another!" yelled a shrill voice. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + I'VE GOT THE HUMP + THROUGH NOT BUYING HEARTY'S VEGETABLES + +As the beast swung round, the other motto presented itself: + + EAT HEARTY'S LEEKS + THEY DEFY THE PLUMBER + +Cheers, cat-calls, loud whistlings and the talk of an eager, excited +Saturday-afternoon crowd formed a background to the picture. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" muttered Bindle, who had read the notices with +keen relish. "Well, I'm blowed! They done it in style." + +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. + +Bindle recognised the tune the band was playing as that of Mr. +Hearty's favourite hymn, "Pull for the Shore, Sailor." As the band +entered the High Street, another was heard in the opposite direction. + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Hearty gazed at Bindle with unseeing eyes. + +"These bands yours, too, 'Earty?" Bindle enquired. + +Mr. Hearty shook his head in hopeless negation. Nothing was his, not +even the power to move and rout this scandalous, zoological-botanical +exhibition. + +"Well, wot are they a-playin' 'ymns for?" demanded Bindle. + +"Hymns?" enquired Mr. Hearty in a toneless voice. + +"Yes, can't you 'ear 'em?" Bindle gazed at his brother-in-law +curiously. "Enough to blow your 'ead orf." + +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: + + HEARTY FOR CABBAGES + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The "Onward, Christian Soldiers" band was the first to reach 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 confreres. + +For a moment Mr. Hearty stared, then he retreated backwards before the +avalanche of musicians. + +"What do you want?" he demanded feebly. + +"This the way upstairs, guv'nor?" enquired the tall man. + +"Upstairs?" interrogated Mr. Hearty. + +"Yus, upstairs, like me to say it again?" queried the man who was +tired and short-tempered. + +"But, what----?" began Mr. Hearty. + +"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. + +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. + +"Hi, Charlie!" he yelled. + +"'Ullo! That you, Ted?" came the reply from above. + +"Ruddy drum's stuck," yelled the drummer, equally hot and exasperated. + +"Woooot?" bawled Charlie. + +"Ruddy drum won't go up," cried Ted. + +"All right, you stay down there, you can 'ear us and keep time," was +the response. + +The drummer subsided on to a sack of potatoes. Mr. Hearty approached +him. + +"What are you doing here? You're not my band," he said, eyeing the man +apprehensively. + +The drummer looked up with the insolence of a man who sees before him +indecision. + +"Who the blinkin' buttercups said we was?" he demanded. + +"But what are you doing here?" persisted Mr. Hearty. + +"Oh!" responded the man with elaborate civility, "we come to play +forfeits, wot jer think?" + +At that moment from the room above the shop the band broke into full +blast with "Shall We Gather at the River." The drummer made a grab at +his sticks, but was late, and for the rest of the piece, was a beat +behind in all his bangs. + +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. + +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. + +The inspector eyed Mr. Hearty with official disapproval. + +"You must send these men away, sir," he said with decision. + +"But--but," said Mr. Hearty, "I can't." + +"But you must," said the inspector. "There will be a summons, of +course," he added warningly. + +"But--why?" protested Mr. Hearty. + +The inspector looked at Mr. Hearty, and then gazed up and down Putney +High Street. He was annoyed. + +"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. + +"Stop that confounded row there!" + +The man did not hear. + +"Stop it, I say!" shouted the inspector. + +The drummer stopped. + +"Wot's the matter?" he enquired. + +"You're causing an obstruction," said the inspector warningly. + +"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?" + +"It's the pleece," yelled back Ted informatively. + +"The cheese?" bawled back Charlie. "Shouldn't eat it; it always makes +you ill. Go ahead and bang that ruddy drum." + +"Can't," yelled Ted. "They'll run me in." + +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 to the bottom of the stairs. Arrived in the +shop he stopped suddenly at the sight of the inspector. + +"Tell them to stop that infernal row," ordered the officer. + +He, who had been addressed as Charlie, looked from Mr. Hearty to the +inspector. + +"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. + +The inspector bit his lip. Turning to Mr. Hearty he said, "You will be +charged with causing obstruction with all this tomfoolery." + +"But--but--it isn't mine," protested Mr. Hearty weakly. "I know +nothing about it." + +"Nonsense!" said the inspector. "Look at those animals out there." + +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. + +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. + +"I--I don't know what it means," he stammered, feeling that something +was required of him; but no one heard him. + +Bindle, who had hitherto been quiet in the presence of his superior +officer, now took a hand in matters. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'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. + +"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. + +Suddenly the little man saw the first drummer banging away vigorously. + +"'Ullo, got another little lot inside! You don't 'alf know 'ow to +advertise, mister," he said admiringly. + +This reminded Mr. Hearty that he possessed a voice. + +"There is some mistake. I have not ordered any band," he shouted in +the little man's ear. + +"Wot?" shouted the little man. + +Mr. Hearty repeated his assurance. + +"Not ordered any band. Seem to 'ave ordered all the bands in London, +as far as I can see," he remarked, looking at the rival concerns. +"Sort of Crystal Palace affair. You ordered us, any'ow," he added. + +"But I didn't," persisted Mr. Hearty. "This is all a mistake." + +"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. + +"You can't get through," shouted Ted to the second drummer, a +mournful-looking man with black whiskers. + +"Wot?" he bawled dully. + +"Can't get through," yelled Ted. + +"Why?" roared the whiskered man. + +"Ruddy drum won't go up," shouted Ted. + +"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. + +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. + +"Where's Striker?" came the cry. + +"Strikeeeeeeeer!" yelled several voices. + +"'Ullo!" howled Striker in a muffled voice. + +"We're all ready. Wot the 'ell are you doin', Striker?" came the +response. + +"Drum won't come up," bawled Striker. + +"Wot?" + +"Drum won't come up, too big." + +"Right-o! you can pick us up," came the leader's reply. + +A moment later "Onward, Christian Soldiers," broke out in brassy +rivalry to "Shall We Gather at the River." + +Mrs. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle fled into the parlour. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +"Oh, my Gawd! they'll bring the 'ole bloomin' 'ouse down," he +muttered. "I 'ope they don't play 'ymns in 'eaven--them drums!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +In the kitchen behind the parlour sat Mrs. Hearty wheezing painfully. +Opposite to her stood Mrs. Bindle, tight-lipped and grim. + +"That Bindle's done this," she muttered to herself. "It'll kill Mr. +Hearty." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MR. GUPPERDUCK'S MISHAP + + +"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." + +"An' which are we goin' to 'ave for breakfast to-morrow?" enquired +Bindle cheerfully. + +"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. + +"Wot jer want to take a lodger for," demanded Bindle, "if you can't +get food enough for you an' me?" + +"Doesn't his money help us pay our way?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. + +"But wot's the good of 'avin' more money, Mrs. B., if you can't get +enough food to go round?" + +"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." + +Bindle scratched his head in perplexity, but forbore to retort; +instead he hummed Mrs. Bindle's favourite hymn "Gospel Bells." + +"Look what you done to Mr. Hearty, that Saturday," cried Mrs. Bindle. + +"Me!" said Bindle, cursing himself for reminding her by humming the +hymn. + +"Yes, you!" was the reply. "He had to go to the police-court." + +"Well, it's made 'is fortune, an' 'e got orf," replied Bindle. + +"Yes, but it might have ruined him. You wouldn't have cared, and in +war-time too," Mrs. Bindle added. + +"Well, well! the war'll be over some day," said Bindle cheerfully. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I hope nothing has happened to him," remarked Mrs. Bindle a little +anxiously. + +"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. + +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. + +"I wonder what could have happened?" she said as the clock indicated a +quarter past ten and she rose to clear away. + +"P'raps 'e's been took up to 'eaven like that cove wot 'Earty was +talkin' about the other night," suggested Bindle. + +Mrs. Bindle's sniff intimated that she considered such a remark +unworthy of her attention. + +"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. + +Mrs. Bindle busied herself in putting Mr. Gupperduck's supper in the +oven to keep warm. + +"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." + +"Oh! you think so, do you!" snapped Mrs. Bindle. + +"I was listenin' to 'em one afternoon in Regent's Park," remarked +Bindle. "Silly sort o' lot they seemed to me." + +"You're nothing but a heathen yourself," accused Mrs. Bindle. + +"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." + +"Don't be disgusing, Bindle," snapped Mrs. Bindle. + +"Disgustin'! what's disgustin'?" + +"Talking of what you talked of," replied Mrs. Bindle with asperity. + +"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. + +"What do they say in the park?" questioned Mrs. Bindle curiously. + +"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." + +"What did you say?" enquired Mrs. Bindle. + +"I asks 'im if 'e was quite sure 'e 'ad any intelligence to insult, +an' that made 'em laugh." + +Mrs. Bindle nodded her head in approval. + +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. + +"Did he say anything else?" queried Mrs. Bindle. + +"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." + +"And what did he say?" asked Mrs. Bindle with interest. + +"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." + +"They didn't ought to allow it," commented Mrs. Bindle indignantly. + +"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." + +"Did anybody hold up their hands?" asked Mrs. Bindle. + +"Yes, up went my little 'and like a whiz-bang," announced Bindle. + +Mrs. Bindle gave Bindle a look that she usually reserved for Mr. +Hearty. + +"'Well, sir!' says 'e, lookin' at me, 'wot is your question?' + +"'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." + +Mrs. Bindle had listened to Bindle with the nearest approach to +approval that she had ever shown. + +"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. + +"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." + +"We've got to save souls," remarked Mrs. Bindle with grim decision. + +"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. + +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." + +"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." + +Mrs. Bindle was silent, her manner was distraite, she was listening +for the sound of Mr. Gupperduck's return. + +"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." + +"We shall all have our occupations," remarked Mrs. Bindle oracularly. + +"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." + +For once Mrs. Bindle allowed a remark to pass without the inevitable +accusation of blasphemy! + +"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----" + +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. + +"'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. + +"Wot's 'e been doin'?" enquired Bindle of a weedy-looking man with +long hair, a sandy pointed beard, and a cloth cap, three sizes too +large for him, which rested on the tops of his ears. "Wot's 'e been up +to?" + +"He's been addressing a meeting," replied the man in a mournful voice. + +Bindle turned once more to Mr. Gupperduck and examined him closely. + +"Looks as if the meetin's been addressin' 'im, don't it?" he remarked. + +"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. + +"Well, I never seen a meetin' make such alterations in a man in all my +puff," remarked Bindle. + +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. + +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. + +"Took that down pretty clean," said Bindle, looking up at the man with +the sandy beard. + +"Don't do that!" cried Mrs. Bindle, turning suddenly, her nostrils +detecting the smell of alcohol. + +"Do what?" enquired Bindle from where he knelt beside the damaged Mr. +Gupperduck. + +"Give him that," said Mrs. Bindle, "he's temperance." + +"Well, 'e ain't now," remarked Bindle with calm conviction. + +"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. + +"Where am I?" he moaned. + +"You're all right," said Mrs. Bindle, taking Bindle's place by Mr. +Gupperduck's side. "You're safe now." + +Mr. Gupperduck closed his eyes again, and Mrs. Bindle proceeded to +wipe his face with a piece of flannel dipped in water. + +"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?" + +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. + +"It was a Peace meeting," replied the man mournfully. + +Bindle gave vent to a prolonged whistle of understanding. + +"Oh, Guppy, Guppy!" he cried. "Why couldn't you 'ave kept to the next +world, without getting mixed up with this?" + +"It was wounded soldiers," volunteered the man with the sandy beard. + +"Wounded soldiers!" exclaimed Bindle. + +"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----" + +"They passed their resolution on 'is face," suggested Bindle. + +The man nodded. "It was terrible," he said, "terrible; we were afraid +they would kill him." + +"And where was you while all this was 'appenin'?" + +"Oh!" said the man, "I was fortunate enough to find a tree." + +Bindle looked him up and down with elaborate intentness, then having +satisfied himself as to every detail of his appearance and apparel, he +remarked: + +"Ain't it wonderful wot luck some coves do 'ave!" + +"I regard it as the direct interposition of Providence," said the man. + +"And I suppose you shinned up that tree like giddy-o?" suggested +Bindle. + +"Yes," said the man, "I was brought up in the country." + +"Was you now?" said Bindle. "Well, it was lucky for you, wasn't it?" + +"The hand of God," was the reply; "clearly the hand of God." + +"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. + +"That is exactly what happened, my friend," replied the man with the +sandy beard. + +"An' where did all this 'appen?" asked Bindle. + +"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. + +Bindle looked at the man curiously to see if he were really serious; +but there was no vestige of a smile upon his face. + +"It's wonderful wot a man can do with a crowd," remarked Bindle +oracularly; "but," turning to the inert figure of Mr. Gupperduck, +"it's still more wonderful wot a crowd can do with a man." + +"Bindle!" Mrs. Bindle's voice rang out authoritatively. + +"'Ere am I," replied Bindle obediently. + +"Help us lift Mr. Gupperduck on a chair." + +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. + +"'The Lord hath given me rest from mine enemies,'" he quoted. + +Mrs. Bindle and the two friends regarded Mr. Gupperduck admiringly. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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 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----" + +"Because you haven't got a soul," interrupted Mrs. Bindle with +conviction. + +"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." + +And Bindle rose, yawned and made towards the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE COURTING OF THE REV. ANDREW MACFIE + + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"You know, Uncle Joe," she said bravely on one occasion, "we women +have to give up those we love." + +Bindle had not seen the plaintive humour of her remark; but had +suddenly become noisily engrossed in the use of his handkerchief. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But the fates were playing for Mr. Hearty. + +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 Fete +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. + +The Barton Bridge Temperance Fete fiasco had proved the greatest +sensation that the county had ever known. The mixing of crude alcohol +and distilled mead with the lemonade, whereby the participants in the +rustic fete 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. + +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. + +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 Fete" in Barton Bridge, than to charge across "No +Man's Land" in France. + +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 +fete by the Rev. Andrew MacFie. + +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." + +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 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. + +"Oh, don't stand there playing the fool, Bindle!" she snapped. "I +haven't time to----" + +The door opened slowly and admitted the tall, lanky form of the Rev. +Andrew MacFie. + +"It's me, Mrs. Beendle," he said, as he entered the room. "The outer +door was open, so I joost cam in." + +"Oh! I'm sorry, sir," said Mrs. Bindle, "I thought it was Bindle." + +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. + +"Won't you come into the parlour, sir?" she said. "It's very kind of +you to call." + +"Na, na, Mrs. Beendle," replied Mr. MacFie. "I joost cam in +to--to----" He hesitated. + +"But won't you sit down, sir?" Mrs. Bindle indicated a chair by the +side of the table. + +Mr. MacFie drew the chair towards him, sitting bolt upright, holding +his soft felt hat upon his knees. + +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. + +Mr. MacFie was obviously ill at ease. + +"Ye'll be comin' to the sairvice, the nicht, Mrs. Beendle?" he began. + +"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." + +"Aye!" said Mr. MacFie, gazing into vacancy as if in search of +inspiration. Finding none, he repeated "Aye!" + +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. + +"I'm sair consairned, Mrs. Beendle----" He stopped, wordless. + +"Yes, sir," responded Mrs. Bindle encouragingly. + +"I'm sair consairned no to see the wee lassie more at the kirk." + +"Who, sir, Millie?" queried Mrs. Bindle in surprise. + +"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----" + +"I'll speak to Mr. Hearty, sir," said Mrs. Bindle, compressing her +lips. "It's very good of you, sir, I'm sure, to----" + +"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----" + +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. + +"'Ullo, caught you," said Bindle jocosely. + +"Bindle!" There was horror and anger in Mrs. Bindle's voice. Mr. +MacFie merely looked uncomfortable. He rose hastily. + +"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." + +"Don't you fret about that, sir," said Bindle genially. "She wouldn't +miss a chance to pray." + +"And--and may we expect you, Mr. Beendle?" enquired Mr. MacFie by way +of making conversation and preventing an embarrassing silence. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +When Mrs. Bindle returned to the kitchen it was obvious that she was +seriously displeased. The bangs that punctuated the process of +"dishing-up" were good fortissimo bangs. + +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. + +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. + +"Wot did Sandy want?" enquired Bindle as he got to work upon his +supper. + +"Don't talk to me," snapped Mrs. Bindle. "You'd try a saint, you +would, insulting the minister in that way." + +"Insultin'! Me!" cried Bindle in surprise. "Why, I only cheer-o'd +'im." + +"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." + +Bindle was wearing his best clothes, for some reason known only to +himself. + +"Anyone would think you was goin' to a weddin'," continued Mrs. +Bindle. + +"Not again," said Bindle cheerfully. "Wot was ole Scotch-an'-Soda +after?" he enquired. + +"When you ask me a proper question, I'll give you a proper answer," +announced Mrs. Bindle. + +"Oh, Lord!" said Bindle with mock resignation. "Well, wot did the +Reverend MacAndrew want?" + +"He came to enquire why Millie was so often absent from chapel. I +shall have to speak to Mr. Hearty," said Mrs. Bindle. + +Bindle's reply was a prolonged whistle. "'E's after Millikins, is 'e?" +he muttered. + +That is how both Bindle and Mrs. Bindle first learned that the Rev. +Andrew MacFie was interested in their pretty niece, Millie Hearty. + +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. + +The angular piety of Mr. MacFie rendered him an awkward, not to say a +clumsy, lover. + +"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." + +"Heathen!" was Mrs. Bindle's sole comment. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Uncle Joe!" There was reproach in Millie's voice as she withdrew her +arm from Bindle's. + +"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." + +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. + +"I _hate_ him, Uncle Joe. He's always--always----" She paused, +blushing. + +"A-givin' of you the glad-eye," suggested Bindle. "I seen 'im." + +"Oh, he's horrible, Uncle Joe. I'm sure he's a wicked man." + +"'Course 'e is," replied Bindle with conviction, "or 'e wouldn't be a +parson." + +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. + +Mr. Hearty had regarded his brother-in-law with what he conceived to +be reproving dignity. + +"I do not understand, Joseph," he remarked in hollow, woolly tones. + +"Well, there's ole Mac, always a-givin' the glad-eye to Millikins," +explained Bindle. + +"If you wish to speak of our minister, Joseph, you must do so +respectfully, and I cannot listen to such vulgar suggestions." + +"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 you're up against the +biggest thing in your life, an' don't you forget it." + +Bindle was angry. + +"Of late, Joseph," Mr. Hearty replied, "you have shown too much desire +to interfere in my private affairs, and I cannot permit it." + +"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." + +Mr. Hearty paled and fumbled with the right lapel of his coat. + +"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. + +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. + +Mr. MacFie had formed the habit of supping with the Heartys after +evening service, and frequently Mrs. Bindle was of the party. + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Gupperduck was seated on a chair, endeavouring to discipline his +accordion into not sounding E sharp continuously through each hymn. +The others were awaiting with keen interest the outcome of the +struggle. + +"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. + +"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. + +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." + +Millie Hearty entered the room at this moment and ran up to her uncle, +greeting him affectionately. + +"Oh, Uncle Joe, I'm so glad you've come," she cried. "You never come +to see us now." + +"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. + +"'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. + +Millie laughed. "You mustn't tell such wicked fibs on Sunday, Uncle +Joe," she cried. "It's very naughty of you." + +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." + +Bindle ran up a dubious scale to prove his words. + +"Oh! do be quiet, Uncle Joe," laughed Millie. "You'll frighten Mr. +MacFie away." + +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. + +"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. + +Mr. MacFie regarded Bindle as if he were talking in a foreign tongue. + +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. + +"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?" + +Mr. MacFie shook a mournful head in negation. + +"'E's goin' to marry Millikins, ain't 'e, Millikins?" + +Millie cast her eyes down and, with heightened colour, bowed her head +in affirmation of Bindle's statement. + +"Pretty pair they'll make too," said Bindle with conviction. "I 'ope +you'll be marryin' 'em, sir." + +Mr. MacFie looked uncomfortable. + +"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. + +"It was about a cove called Urrier an' a king named David." + +"Uriah the Hittite," murmured Mr. Hearty. + +"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. + +"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 done a thing like that, I'd 'a +raised a pretty big blister on 'is nose." + +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. + +"Bindle!" cried Mrs. Bindle at last; "Bindle, you forget yourself." + +"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?" + +"Meester Beendle," said Mr. MacFie at last, "we must leave to +Proveedence the things that belong to Proveedence." + +"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. + +"If I had been her," said Millie, "I should have killed David." + +"Millie!" gasped Mr. Hearty. "How--how dare you say such a thing." + +"I should, father," replied Millie quietly. + +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." + +"'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. + +Millie went down to the door to see him out. "Uncle Joe," she +whispered, as she bade him good night, "I understood." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE CHAPEL CONVERSAZIONE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 "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. + +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. + +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. + +Millie Hearty had striven to mitigate the uncompromising gloom of the +texts by placing evergreens above the frames; but with no very +pronounced success. + +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. + +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. His trousers still +concertinaed mournfully down his legs until they despairedly met his +large and shapeless boots. + +Millie Hearty was also an early arrival. In her white frock she looked +strangely out of place associated with her father and aunt. + +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. + +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. + +"Is Joseph coming?" he enquired of Mrs. Bindle. + +"Yes," she replied, "but I've warned him." There was a grimness in her +voice that carried conviction to Mr. Hearty. + +"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. + +"Mr. Gupperduck can't come," said Mrs. Bindle as she rearranged the +fish-paste sandwiches. "He's got a meeting at Hoxton." + +Mr. Hearty made some murmur of response as he dashed across the room +to adjust three chairs that lacked symmetry. + +"I wish they'd come, Alf," wheezed Mrs. Hearty, hitting the front of a +bright green bodice. Sartorially Mrs. Hearty always ran to brilliancy. + +"I hope Mr. MacFie will not be late," said Mr. Hearty in a tone of +gloomy foreboding. + +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. + +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. + +Alice sidled up to Mrs. Bindle and, in a whisper audible to all, +enquired: + +"Am I to call out the names, mum?" + +"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." + +"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. + +Mrs. Hearty from time to time beat her chest. + +"It's me breath," she confided to Mr. Sopley, then subsided into +wheezing. + +"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. + +Suddenly Alice threw open the outer door. + +"Mr. Pain and 'is wife, mum," she announced. + +Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty became instantly galvanised into activity. + +"Not his wife," corrected Mrs. Bindle in a whisper. + +"But she is 'is wife," protested Alice indignantly. "Ain't you, mum?" +she enquired of Mrs. Pain. + +Mrs. Pain simpered her acquiescence as she turned to Mr. MacFie and +Mr. Hearty, who had raced towards her. + +"You should say 'Mr. and Mrs. Pain,' Alice," said Mrs. Bindle with +quiet forbearance. + +"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." + +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-elaborated 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. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Withers," bawled Alice. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Mr. Muddenham and Mr. Tuskett." + +"Tuddenham, girl, Tuddenham!" shrieked Mr. Tuddenham. + +"Muskett, I said, Muskett!" boomed Mr. Muskett. + +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. + +The guests now began to arrive thick and fast. + +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 derniere crie. + +Mrs. Bindle had taken up her position near the door, so that she might +correct Alice, should occasion arise. + +"The butcher and 'is missus," announced Alice. + +"Alice, Alice!" protested Mrs. Bindle in a loud whisper. "You mustn't +announce people like that. You should say Mr. and Mrs. Gash." + +"I asked 'im, mum," protested Alice, "and that's wot 'e said." + +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. + +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." + +Presently her voice was heard without raised in angry reproaches. + +"What's your name?" she was heard to demand. "I got to call it out." + +"No, you don't, Ruthie dear," was the reply. + +Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle exchanged glances. They recognised that +voice. + +"You leggo, I ain't one of them sort," said the voice of Bindle. + +"You ain't goin' in till you give me your name, so there!" was Alice's +retort. + +The guests focused their attention upon the door. Suddenly it opened a +foot and then crashed to again. + +"Ah! thought you'd got through, didn't you?" they heard Alice cry +triumphantly. + +Suddenly the door opened again and Bindle entered with Alice striving +to restrain him. + +"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!" + +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. + +"'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. + +Mrs. Bindle motioned to Alice to free Bindle, which she did +reluctantly. + +Bindle looked round the room with interest. + +"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." + +Bindle regarded Mr. MacFie intently, then turning to Mr. Muskett, who +happened to be standing near him, he remarked: + +"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. + +"Sir!" boomed Mr. Muskett. + +Bindle started back, then recovering himself and, leaning forward +slightly, he said: + +"Do you mind doin' that again, sir, jest to see if I can stand it +without jumping." + +Mr. Muskett glared at him, swung round on his heel and joined Mr. +Tuddenham at the other end of the room. + +"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. + +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. + +"Ain't 'e a knock-out!" he remarked, nudging her with his elbow. + +"I beg your pardon!" said Miss Torkington, lifting her chin and +folding her hands before her. + +"'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." + +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. + +Bindle slowly turned and watched her. + +"Quaint old bird," he muttered. "I wonder wot I said to 'urt 'er +feelin's." + +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. + +"Hi, 'Earty!" Bindle called to Mr. Hearty as he left the leader of the +glee-party. "When's the Ole Bird comin'?" + +Mr. Hearty turned. "The old bird?" he interrogated with lifted +eyebrows. + +"Lady Knob-Kerrick," bawled Alice, throwing open the door with a +flourish. + +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. + +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. + +"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: + + There's the blue eye and the brown eye, the grave eye and the sad, + There's the pink eye and the green eye and the eye that's rolling + mad; + But of all the eyes that eye me, be they merciful or bad, + The eye that I would choose is what they call "The Glad." + THE GLAD EYE. + +The last line was rolled out sonorously by the bass. + +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. + +"We are all deeply honoured by your Leddyship's presence this +evening," said Mr. MacFie, throwing himself into the breach. "It +is----" + +"Get me a chair," demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick, still glaring in the +direction of the glee-singers. + +Bindle rushed at her with a frail-looking hemp-seated chair, which he +proceeded to flick with his red silk pocket-handkerchief. + +"One be enough, mum?" he enquired solicitously. + +Lady Knob-Kerrick regarded him through her lorgnettes. + +Mr. Sopley had been detached from his contemplation of the ceiling, +and was now led up to Lady Knob-Kerrick. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed, "we are indeed greatly honoured." + +"'Ere, 'ere!" broke in Bindle, attracting to himself the attention of +the whole assembly. + +"Will your Ladyship make the presentation now?" enquired Mr. Hearty, +"or----" + +"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." + +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 bag containing the +notes, and the silver-mounted hot-water bottle. + +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. + +"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.) + +"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.) + +"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 +fetes!" interpolated Bindle.) + +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 Fete +fiasco. Lady Knob-Kerrick resumed her seat suddenly. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'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. + +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. + +"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----" + +"You shan't keep me out, you baggage. Can't I hear his dear voice! My +Andrew! Oh, Andy! Andy! and they want to keep me away from you." + +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. + +Lady Knob-Kerrick turned and stared at the apparition through her +lorgnettes. + +Mr. MacFie's jaw dropped. + +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. + +"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. + +"What--what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick of Mr. +MacFie, as she rose from her chair, a veritable Rhadamanthus. + +The girl, who was now hanging on to Mr. MacFie's arm, turned and +regarded Lady Knob-Kerrick over her shoulder. + +"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. + +"Your what?" thundered Lady Knob-Kerrick. + +"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. + +"Mr. MacFie, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick. + +"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!" + +"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. + +"Do you know anything of this woman?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick of +Miss MacFie. + +Miss MacFie shook her head as if the question were an insult. + +"Then it was a secret marriage." Lady Knob-Kerrick remembered what she +had heard of Mr. MacFie's conduct at the temperance fete. "Mr. MacFie, +you have--you have disgraced----" + +"Your Leddyship, on ma honour, I sweear----!" + +"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. + +Mr. MacFie made a desperate effort to free himself from her clutches, +but succeeded only in bringing her to her knees. + +"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----" + +"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. + +"Go it, sir!" said Bindle. "Go it!" + +"Ye have come as the ravening wolf upon the sheep-fold at night to +destroy the lamb." Mr. MacFie waved his disengaged arm. + +"You bein' the lamb, sir, go it!" said Bindle. + +"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. + +Then with a sudden drop to earthly things he appealed to Lady +Knob-Kerrick. + +"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!!!!!" + +Lady Knob-Kerrick turned towards the door at the entrance of which +stood her footman. + +"John, blow your police-whistle," she ordered, practical in all +things. + +John disappeared. A moment later the raucous sound of a police-whistle +was heard in continuous blast. + +"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! You never was the +same man after you 'ad that drink in you down in the country at the +temperance fete. Don't you remember how you laughed with me about that +Old Bird being washed out of her carriage?" + +"It's a lee! It's a lee! A damnable lee!" shrieked Mr. MacFie. + +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. + +"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of no one in particular. + +"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. + +Lady Knob-Kerrick paled. "A raid!" she faltered. + +"Yes, mum, can't you 'ear the police-whistles?" + +"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: + +"It's all right, there ain't no raid. Don't be frightened. It's ole +Calves with that bloomin' police-whistle." + +"Tell that fool to stop," cried Lady Knob-Kerrick. A special constable +pushed his way through the crowd. + +"What is all this about, please?" he demanded. + +"There's a raid, sir," cried several voices. + +"I give this woman in charge," cried Mr. MacFie, dramatically pointing +at her who claimed to be his wife. + +With alacrity the special pulled his note-book out of his pocket. + +"The charge, sir?" he enquired. + +"She says she's ma wife." + +The special looked up from his note-book. "That is not an indictable +offence, sir, I'm afraid." + +"But she's na ma wife," protested Mr. MacFie. + +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. + +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 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. + +Bindle was one of the first to leave the School-room, and he made his +way over to Dick Little's flat at Chelsea. + +"Ah!" cried Dick Little as he opened the door, "Nancy's back. This +way," he added, walking towards his bedroom. + +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. + +"Well, that's that!" he remarked as he laid it on the table. "Hullo, +Bindle!" he cried. "All Clear?" + +"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. + +"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." + +"Good show, what?" queried Dick Little as he lazily pulled at his +pipe, tired after a long day's work in the hospital. + +"Seemed a bit cruel to me," said Dane as he struggled out of a pair of +hefty-looking corsets. + +"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. + +"Sorry!" said Dane, laboriously pulling off a stocking. + +"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, ole Mac won't go 'angin' round Millikins again for +many a long day. If 'e does I'll punch 'is bloomin' 'ead." + +<tb> + +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. + +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 L20 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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LETTING OF NUMBER SIX + + +I + +"An' what am I to do if there's an air-raid?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. + +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. + +"Well, there's always Gawd an' Mr. Gupperduck, Mrs. B.," he remarked, +with the air of a man suggesting an unfailing source of inspiration. + +"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. + +"A daughter o' the Lord didn't ought to be afraid of an 'Un; besides, +you can go round an' 'old 'Earty's 'and. 'E's a rare ole 'ero when +there's guns goin' off." + +"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. + +"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." + +"You lorst your last job a-purpose," snapped Mrs. Bindle. + +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. + +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." + +"Well, you see," Bindle explained, "I couldn't disappoint ole +Charlie----" + +"And what about me?" demanded Mrs. Bindle, looking round from a fierce +attack upon the kitchen stove with the poker. + +"Well," said Bindle slowly, "you're a disappointed woman as it is, +Mrs. B., so you ain't 'urt." + +Mrs. Bindle resumed her attack upon the fire with increased vigour. + +"You always was a selfish beast, Bindle," she retorted. "You'll be +sorry when I'm dead." + +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. + +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. + +"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.'" + +"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. + +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. + +"Cheer-o, uncle!" The remark came from a brazen-faced girl waiting for +a bus. + +Bindle frowned as he looked her up and down, from the low-cut +transparent blouse to the short skirt, reaching little below her +knees. + +"If I _was_ your uncle, young woman," he remarked, "I'd slap you into +becomin' decent." + +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. + +"So long, old dear!" she cried. + +"Got enough powder on 'er face to whitewash 'er feet," remarked a +workman to Bindle as he resumed his walk. + +"Women is funny things," responded Bindle. "They never seems to be +wearin' so little, but wot they can't leave orf a bit more." + +"You're right, mate," replied the man when he had digested the remark. +"If I was the police I'd run 'em in." + +"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. + +"'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." + +Charlie Hart was a big man with a heavy moustache, a brow whereon the +creases of worry had a perpetual abiding-place, and an indeterminate +chin. "Charlie ought to wear a beard," was Bindle's verdict. + +"Glad you come, Joe. I'll 'ave time to go over things again. Train +don't go till four." + +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. + +Mrs. Sedge, Mrs. Hart's mother, would look after those tenants who did +not possess servants. + +"She's all right when she ain't after 'Royal Richard,'" explained +Charlie Hart. + +"An' who's Royal Richard?" enquired Bindle with interest. + +"Gin!" was Charlie Hart's laconic response. + +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. + +Mrs. Sedge was a stolid matron, whose outlook on life had reached the +dregs of pessimism. + +"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. + +"Cheery little thing," was Bindle's summing up of the gloomy Mrs. +Sedge. + +Bindle had not been in charge an hour before Number Seven began to get +troublesome. He was a choleric ex-Indian civil servant. + +"Where's that damned fellow Hart?" he roared, thrusting his head into +the porter's lodge. + +"'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. + +Number Seven gasped. + +"And who the devil are you?" he demanded. + +"Well," replied Bindle with a grin, "on the 'Alls I'm Little Tich; but +'ere I calls myself Joe Bindle, known as ''Oly Joe.'" + +For a moment Number Seven, his customary redness of face transformed +to purple, stood regarding Bindle fiercely. + +"Then be damned to you!" he burst out, and turning on his heel, dashed +upstairs. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, here he is!" said someone. Bindle smiled happily. + +"Where the devil have you been?" demanded Number Seven angrily. + +Bindle looked at him steadily. Having apparently established Number +Seven's identity to his entire satisfaction, he spoke. + +"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." + +"You damned insolent fellow!" thundered Number Seven, "I'll report +you, I'll----" + +"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'?" + +This master-stroke of strategy turned public opinion dead against +Number Seven, who retired amidst a murmur of disapproving voices. + +"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. + +Number One was expecting a parcel. Had it arrived? + +No, it had not, but Bindle would not rest until it did. + +Number Twelve, a tall, melancholy-visaged man, had lost Fluffles. +Where did Bindle think she was? + +"P'raps she's taken up with another cove, sir," suggested Bindle +sympathetically. "You never knows where you are with women." + +The maid from Number Fifteen giggled. + +Number Twelve explained in a weary tone that Fluffles was a Pekinese +spaniel. + +"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." + +"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. + +"But we must have some, we can't go to bed without coal," snapped the +girl, an undersized, shrewish little creature. + +"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?" + +"My name's not 'Queenie,'" snapped the girl. + +"Ain't it now," remarked Bindle; "shows your father and mother 'adn't +an eye for the right thing, don't it?" + +"I tell you we must have coal," persisted the girl. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"Funny where they learns it all," remarked Bindle to Number Eleven, a +quiet little old lady who wanted a postage stamp. + +The little lady smiled. + +"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. + +"Her mistress has a weak heart," ventured Number Eleven, "and during +the raids she shivers so----" + +"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." + +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. + +"'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." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Queenie," he remarked one evening to the maid at Number Eight, +"I'm orf to catch the robbers wot might carry you away." + +"I can see you catchin' a man," snorted the girl scornfully. + +"Sorry I can't return the compliment, little love-bird," retorted +Bindle. "S'long!" + +"Queenie" had found her match. + + +II + +"You--er--have a furnished--er--flat to let." + +Bindle looked up from the paper he was reading. + +A timid, mouse-like little man with side-whiskers and a deprecating +manner stood on the threshold. + +"Come in, sir," said Bindle heartily; "but I'm afraid it's let." + +"But the board's up," replied the applicant. + +Bindle rose, walked to the outer door, and there saw the notice-board +announcing that a furnished-flat was to let. + +"Funny me not noticin' that," he murmured to himself, as he returned +to the porter's lodge. + +"Was you wantin' it for long, sir?" he enquired. + +"A month, I think," was the reply; "but three weeks----" + +"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. + +"Now isn't that jest like me!" cried Bindle, his face wreathed in +smiles. + +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. + +"I was thinkin' of the other one," said Bindle. "Yes; there's Number +Six to let from next Monday." + +"What is the rent?" enquired the caller. + +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?" + +"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." + +"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'." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +He persuaded Mrs. Sedge to get both rooms ready, "in case of +accidents," as he expressed it. Bindle foresaw that there might be +some difficulty in the matter of catering for Mr. Jabez Stiffson; but +he left that to the inspiration of the moment. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"You go hon, with a nose like that," retorted Mrs. Sedge, in no way +displeased. + +"Well, don't be late in the morning," grinned Bindle. + +At six-thirty, Mr. Jabez Stiffson arrived with a bewildering +collection of impedimenta, ranging from a canary in a cage to a +thermos flask. + +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. + +"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?" + +Mr. Stiffson shook his head in mournful foreboding. + +"'E come to a sparrow, 'e did really, sir." + +That settled the canary, who slept with Mr. Stiffson. + +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. + +"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. + +Just as Bindle was leaving him for the night, Mr. Stiffson called him +back. + +"Porter, I'm worried about Oscar." Bindle noticed that Mr. Stiffson's +hands were moving nervously. + +"Are you really, sir?" enquired Bindle, wondering who Oscar might be. + +"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?" + +"Sure of it, sir," replied Bindle, entirely at a loss as to Mr. +Stiffson's meaning. + +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." + +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. + +Bindle returned to his room to await the arrival of Miss Cissie Boye. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, can you help with my luggage?" she cried. + +"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. + +Miss Boye was sitting before the fire, her coat thrown open and her +veil thrown back. Between her dainty fingers she held a cigarette. + +"So that's that!" she cried. "I'm so tired, Mr. Porter." + +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. + +"I'm afraid we can't get that little picnic 'amper of yours upstairs +to-night, miss," he remarked. + +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." + +"You must 'ave a rare lot o' duds, miss," remarked Bindle. + +"Duds?" interrogated Miss Boye. + +"Clothes, miss," explained Bindle. + +Miss Boye laughed lightly. Miss Boye laughed at everything. + +"Now I must go to bed. I've got a 'call' to-morrow at eleven." + +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. + +"You'll be very quiet, miss, in the flat, won't you?" he whispered. + +"Sure," replied Miss Boye. + +"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'." + +Miss Boye laughed. + +"'Ush! miss, please," whispered Bindle as he switched on the electric +light in the hall of Number Six. + +Bindle showed the new tenant the sitting-room, bathroom, kitchen, and +finally her own bedroom. + +"You will be quiet, miss, won't you?" Bindle interrogated anxiously, +"or you may wake Oscar?" + +"Who's Oscar?" queried Miss Boye. + +"You'll see 'im in the mornin', miss," replied Bindle with a grin. +"Good night, miss." + +"Good night, Mr. Porter," smiled Miss Boye, and she closed the door. + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DOWNFALL OF MR. JABEZ STIFFSON + + +I + +The next morning Bindle let Mrs. Sedge in at her usual time, seven +o'clock. + +"Now mind, mother," he said, "four eggs and plenty o' bacon an' +coffee, Number Six 'as got a appetite; 'ad no supper, pore gal." + +Mrs. Sedge grunted. Kilburn Cemetery had a depressing effect upon her. + +"I'll take it up myself," remarked Bindle casually. + +Mrs. Sedge eyed him deliberately. + +"She's pretty, then," she said. "Ain't you men jest all alike!" She +proceeded to shake her head in hopeless despair. + +Bindle stood watching her as she descended to the Harts' kitchen. + +"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." + +Having prepared and eaten his own breakfast, Bindle sat down and +waited. At five minutes past nine he rose. + +"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." + +At the head of the stairs of the second floor Bindle stopped as if he +had been shot. + +"'Old me, 'Orace!" he muttered. "If it ain't 'er!" + +Running towards him was Miss Boye in a white silk wrapper, a white +lace matinee cap, her stockingless feet thrust into dainty slippers. + +Bindle eyed her appreciatively. + +"Oh, Mr. Porter!" she cried breathlessly, "there's a man in my bath." + +"A wot, miss?" enquired Bindle in astonishment. + +"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?" + +"Well, personally myself, I shouldn't call 'im lovely," muttered +Bindle. "I s'pose it's only a matter o' taste." + +"But where did he come from?" persisted Cissie Boye excitedly. + +"'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." + +"Why! Don't I look nice?" asked Miss Boye archly, looking down at +herself. + +"That's jest it, miss," said Bindle. "If Number Seven or Number +Eighteen was to see you like that, well, anythink might 'appen. Now +we'll find out about this man wot you think 'as got into your bath." + +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. + +"Isn't he a scream!" gurgled Miss Boye. "Oh, what would Bobbie say?" + +Like a decree of fate Bindle marched up to the bathroom door and +knocked imperiously. + +"What is it?" inquired Mr. Stiffson in a trembling voice. + +"It's me," responded Bindle sternly. "Open the door, sir, _if_ you +please. I can't 'ave you a-frightening this young lady." + +"Tell her to go away, and then I'll come out," was the response. + +Miss Boye giggled. + +"You'd better come out, sir." There was decision in Bindle's voice. + +"I'll go into my room," she whispered, "and then I'll come out again, +see?" + +Bindle did see, and nodded his head vigorously. Miss Boye disappeared. + +"She ain't 'ere now, sir," he said, "so you'd better come out." + +The bathroom door was cautiously opened, and Mr. Stiffson looked out +with terror-dilated eyes. + +"Is she really----?" + +"Of course she is," said Bindle reassuringly. "Fancy you bein' afraid +of a pretty little bit o' fluff like that." + +"But--but--she was in her----" + +"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." + +With affected indifference Bindle strolled over to the bathroom, +looked in and then stood before the door. + +"Look! there she is again!" almost shrieked Mr. Stiffson, dashing for +Bindle and endeavouring to get past him into the bathroom. + +"There, there, sir," said Bindle soothingly, "you're a very lucky +cove, only you don't seem to know it." + +"But--but--Mrs. Stiffson----" + +There was terror in Mr. Stiffson's voice. On his forehead beads of +perspiration glistened. + +"What the wife don't see the 'usband don't 'ave to explain," remarked +Bindle oracularly. + +"But she's in my flat," persisted Mr. Stiffson. + +"Oh! you naughty old thing!" cried Cissie Boye. "It's you who are in +my flat." + +"But I came in last night," quavered Mr. Stiffson. + +"So did I--didn't I, Mr. Porter?" She turned to Bindle for +corroboration. + +"Take my dyin' oath on it, miss," said Bindle. + +"But----" began Mr. Stiffson, then stopped, at loss how to proceed. + +"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." + +Cissie Boye slowly approached Mr. Stiffson. "You're surely not afraid +of little me, Mr. Man?" she enquired, looking deliciously impudent. + +That was exactly what Mr. Stiffson was afraid of, and he edged nearer +to Bindle. + +"But Mrs. Stiffson----" he stammered, regarding Cissie Boye like one +hypnotised. + +"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. + +"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. + +"But I can't----" began Mr. Stiffson. + +"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. + +"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." + +"I'm so hungry," wailed Cissie Boye. + +"Of course you are, miss," said Bindle sympathetically. "I'll get a +move on." + +"Oh! isn't he delicious," gurgled Cissie Boye. "Isn't he a perfect +scream; but how did he get here, Mr. Porter?" + +"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'----" + +"A rinse, what's that?" enquired Cissie. + +"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." + +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. + +"Oscar's got to wait," muttered Bindle as he hurried downstairs. + +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. + +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 matinee cap with the blue ribbons, and +Bindle frankly envied Mr. Stiffson. + +"Now, sir," he cried, banging at the laggard's door, "the coffee and +the lady's waitin', an' I want to feed Oscar." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Stiffson coughed nervously behind his hand. + +"Now," continued Bindle, "you got a good hour, then we must see wot's +to be done. I'll keep the Ole Bird away." + +"The Old Bird?" questioned Mr. Stiffson in a thin voice as he opened +the door; "but Oscar is only----" + +"I mean your missis, sir," explained Bindle. "You leave 'er to me." + +"Come on, Mr. Man," cried Cissie Boye, "don't be afraid, I never eat +men when there's eggs and bacon." + +Mr. Stiffson motioned Bindle to accompany him into the sitting-room. + +"I got to see to Oscar," said Bindle reassuringly. + +"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. + +Suddenly Oscar burst into full song. Mr. Stiffson sighed his relief. +Oscar had had his breakfast. + +"Now, Mr. Man, eat," commanded Cissie Boye, "and," handing him a cup +of coffee, "drink." + +"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." + +Mr. Stiffson looked as if the passage of centuries would never permit +him to forget. + +"An' now I'll leave you little love-birds," said Bindle with the +cheerful assurance of a cupid, "an' go an' keep watch." + +"But----" protested Mr. Stiffson, half rising from his chair. + +"Oh! do sit down, old thing!" cried Cissie; "you're spoiling my +breakfast." + +Mr. Stiffson subsided. Destiny had clearly taken a hand in the affair. + +"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." + + +II + +"I'm not aware that I speak indistinctly." The voice was +uncompromising, the deportment aggressive. "I said 'Mr. Jabez +Stiffson.'" + +"You did, mum," agreed Bindle tactfully; "I 'eard you myself quite +plainly." + +"Then where is he? I'm Mrs. Stiffson." + +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. + +"Well?" she interrogated. + +"'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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +Had he possessed the intuition of a mongoose, Mr. Stiffson would have +known that there was a snake in his grass. + +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. + +From under Mrs. Stiffson's right arm Bindle saw the tableau. Mr. +Stiffson, who was facing the door, was in the act of raising his +coffee-cup to smiling lips. Cissie Boye, sitting at right angles on +his left, was leaning back in her chair clapping her hands. + +"Oh, you naughty old thing!" she was crying. + +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. + +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. + +"Jabez!" It was like the uninflected accents of doom. + +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. + +"Jabez!" repeated Mrs. Stiffson. "I thought I told you to wear your +tweed mixture to-day." + +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. + +Cissie Boye laughed, Bindle grinned. + +"Won't you sit down?" It was Cissie Boye who spoke. + +"Silence, hussy!" There was no anger in Mrs. Stiffson's voice; it was +just a command and an expression of opinion. + +Cissie Boye rose, the light of battle in her eyes. Bindle pushed past +Mrs. Stiffson and stood between the two women. + +"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." + +"Hold your tongue, fool!" the deep voice thundered. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +Mrs. Stiffson's efforts of self-control were proving unequal to the +occasion, her breathing became laboured and her voice husky. + +"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. + +"Well, mum," responded Bindle, "'e was eatin' bacon an' eggs an' +drinking coffee." + +"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. + +"Here, easy on, old thing!" said Cissie Boye, seeing Mrs. Stiffson's +rising temper, and entirely regaining her own good humour. + +"I repeat," said Mrs. Stiffson, "what is my husband doing in your +company?" + +"Ask him what he's doing in my flat," countered Cissie Boye +triumphantly. + +"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." + +Mrs. Stiffson turned upon Bindle a look that was meant to annihilate. + +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. + +"Because your 'usband gets into the wrong duds," continued Bindle, +"ain't no reason why you should get into an 'owling temper, is it?" + +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. + +"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. + +Bindle sniffed the air like a hound. + +"That's Royal Richard wot you can smell, mum," he explained. + +Cissie Boye laughed. + +Ignoring the interruption, Mrs. Stiffson returned to the attack. + +"I demand an explanation!" Her voice shook with suppressed fury. + +"Listen!" cried Cissie Boye, "if your boy will come and sleep in my +flat----" + +"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!" + +"But--but, my dear," protested Mr. Stiffson, becoming articulate, +"Oscar was here all the time." + +Cissie Boye giggled. + +"So that is why you have put on your best clothes, you deceiver, you +viper, you scum!" + +"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." + +"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. + +"Where did you meet her?" repeated his wife. + +"In--in the bath-room," responded Mr. Stiffson weakly. + +Mrs. Stiffson gasped and stood speechless with amazement. + +"I heard a splashing," broke in Cissie Boye, "and I peeped in,--I only +just peeped in, really and really." + +"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." + +"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?" + +Mr. Stiffson paused in the process of endeavouring to extract coffee +from his exterior. + +"Er--er----" he began. + +"Answer me!" shouted Mrs. Stiffson. "Were you or were you not in this +person's bath-room?" + +"Yes--er--but----" began Mr. Stiffson. + +Mrs. Stiffson cast a frenzied glance round the room. Action 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bindle listened to Mrs. Stiffson's tirade with frank admiration; +language always appealed to him. + +"Ain't she a corker!" he whispered to Cissie Boye. + +"Cork's out now, any old how," was the whispered reply. + +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. + +Cissie Boye made a movement towards her. Bindle laid an arresting hand +upon her arm. + +"You jest leave 'er be, miss," he said. "I know all about them little +games. She'll come to all right." + +"Where the hell is that damn porter?" the voice of Number Seven burst +in upon them from the outer corridor. + +"'Ere I am, sir," sang out Bindle. + +"Then why the corruption aren't you in your room?" bawled Number +Seven. + +Bindle slipped quickly out into the corridor to find Number Seven +bristling with rage. + +"Because Ole Damn an' 'Op it, I can't be in two places at once," he +said. + +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. + +"Hi! stop 'er, stop 'er!" shouted Bindle, bolting after Mrs. Stiffson, +followed by Number Seven. + +"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. + +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. + +"Damned old tiger-cat!" cried Number Seven. "Leave her where she is." + +Bindle turned upon him a face radiating smiles. + +"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. + +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. + +And Mrs. Stiffson departed in search of her husband. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CAMOUFLAGING OF MR. GUPPERDUCK + + +I + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +Ginger murmured something that might have been taken either as an +interrogation or a protest. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Wot was 'e doin'?" gasped Wilkes between two paroxysms. + +"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. + +"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." + +"We all want peace." Ginger stuck out his chin aggressively. + +"Ginger!" there was reproach in Bindle's voice, "an' you a soldier +too, I'm surprised at you!" + +"I want this ruddy war to end," growled Ginger. "I don't 'old wiv +war," he added as an after-thought. + +"Now wot does it matter to you, Ging, whether you're a-carrin' a pack +or a piano on your back?" + +"Why don't they make peace?" burst out Ginger irrelevantly. + +"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?" + +"But they're willing to make peace," growled Ginger. "I don't 'old wiv +'angin' back." + +"Now you jest listen to me. Why didn't you make peace last week with +Pincher Nobbs instead o' fightin' 'im?" + +"'E's a ruddy tyke, 'e is," snarled Ginger. + +"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." + +"They could make peace if they liked," persisted Ginger. + +"You won't get Llewellyn John to give in, Ging," said Bindle +confidently. "'E's 'ot stuff, 'e is." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Wot!" Ginger's incredulity gave expression to his features. "No +dinner-hour?" + +"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." + +Ginger banged down his pewter on the counter and ordered another. + +"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." + +Ginger continued to gaze at Bindle with surprise stamped on his +freckled face. + +"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." + +Ginger spat, indecision marking the act. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Funny cove you are, Ging," said Bindle pleasantly. + +Ginger spat viciously, missing the spittoon by inches. + +"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." + +"Wot's the use o' twins?" demanded Ginger savagely. "Now if they'd +been goats----" + +"Goats!" queried Bindle. + +"Sell the milk," was Ginger's laconic explanation. + +"They might 'ave been billy-goats," suggested Bindle. + +Ginger swore. + +"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!" + +And he went out whistling "I'd Never Kissed a Soldier Till the War." + + +II + +"Where's Mr. Gupperduck?" + +There was anxious alarm in Mrs. Bindle's interrogation. + +"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. + +"She's with her Aunt Rose," wheezed Mrs. Hearty. + +"What has happened, Joseph?" faltered Mr. Hearty. + +"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." + +Bindle paused and proceeded to refill his pipe, determined to keep Mr. +Hearty and Mrs. Bindle on tenter-hooks. + +"Where is he now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. + +"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." + +"Did they kill 'im, Joe?" wheezed Mrs. Hearty. + +"You can't kill coves like Guppy, Martha," was Bindle's response. +"'E's got more lives than a rate-collector." + +"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. + +"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." + +"The cowards!" Mrs. Bindle snapped out the words venomously. + +"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." + +"What did you do?" demanded Mrs. Bindle aggressively. + +"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. + +"But it's a free country, Joseph," protested Mr. Hearty rather weakly. + +"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." + +"But weren't any of his friends there?" enquired Mrs. Bindle. + +"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." + +"Peter!" muttered Mrs. Bindle. + +"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." + +"Serve him right!" cried Mrs. Bindle. + +Bindle looked at her curiously. "Thought you was sort o' pals with +'im," he remarked. + +"He was a traitor, a Peter betraying his master." Bindle looked +puzzled, Mr. Hearty nodded his head in approval. + +"Was Mr. Wayskin there?" asked Mrs. Bindle. + +"The little chap with the glasses an' a beard too big for 'im, wot +goes about with Ole Cap-an'-Whiskers?" + +Mrs. Bindle nodded. + +"Well, 'e got orf, trousers an' all," said Bindle with a grin. "Nippy +little cove 'e was," he added. + +"Oh, the brutes!" exclaimed Mrs. Bindle. "The cowards!" + +"Well," remarked Bindle, "it all come about through 'im tryin' to give +'em treacle when they wanted curry." + +"Perhaps he's gone home!" Mrs. Bindle half rose as the thought struck +her. + +"Who, Guppy?" interrogated Bindle. + +"Yes, Mr. Gupperduck," said Mrs. Bindle eagerly. + +"Guppy ain't never comin' back to my place," Bindle announced with +decision. + +"Where's he to sleep then?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. + +"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. + +"I'll nurse him!" announced Mrs. Bindle with the air of a Martha. + +"You won't do no such thing, Mrs. B." + +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." + +"You're a brute, Bindle!" was Mrs. Bindle's comment. + +"That may be; but you jest get 'is duds packed up, _includin'_ 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. + +"No, I'm not. I want to talk to Mr. Hearty," said Mrs. Bindle angrily. + +"Well, s'long, all!" and Bindle went out, leaving Mrs. Bindle and Mr. +Hearty to mourn over the fallen Hector. + +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. + +"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'.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE TRAGEDY OF GIUSEPPI ANTONIO TOLMENICINO + + +"'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'?" + +Bindle was engaged in fetching the Sunday dinner-beer according to the +time-honoured custom. + +Scratcher looked moodily at the barman, ordered a glass of beer and +turned to Bindle. + +"I changed my job," he remarked mysteriously. + +"Wot jer doin'?" enquired Bindle, intimating to the barman by a nod +that his pewter was to be refilled. + +"Waiter," responded Scratcher. + +"Waiter!" cried Bindle, regarding him with astonishment. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Wot d'you do?" enquired Bindle. + +"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. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bindle. + +"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." + +"An' didn't it cost 'im anything?" enquired Ginger, who had been an +interested listener. + +"Not a copper," said Scratcher impressively, "not a brass farden." + +"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'." + +"Then," continued Scratcher, "you can always get a bellyful. +There's----" + +"'Old 'ard, Scratcher," interrupted Bindle. "Wot place is it you're +talkin' about?" + +"Napolini's," replied Scratcher, looking at Bindle reproachfully. + +"Go on, ole sport; it's all right," said Bindle resignedly. "I thought +you might 'ave got mixed up with 'eaven." + +"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." + +Scratcher's tone implied that Napolini's was literally running with +soup and potatoes. + +"Don't go on, Scratcher," said Bindle mournfully; "see wot you're +a-doin' to pore Ole Ging." + +"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." + +"I suppose ole Nap ain't wantin' anyone to 'elp mop up all them +things?" enquired Bindle wistfully. + +Scratcher looked at Bindle interrogatingly. + +"D'you think you could find your ole pal a job at Nap's?" enquired +Bindle. + +"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'." + +"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. + +"Nice time you've kept me waiting!" snapped Mrs. Bindle, as Bindle +entered the kitchen. + +"Sorry!" was Bindle's reply as he hung up his hat behind the +kitchen-door. + +"Another time I shan't wait," remarked Mrs. Bindle, as she banged a +vegetable dish on the table. + +Bindle became busily engaged upon roast shoulder of mutton, greens and +potatoes. + +After some time he remarked, "I been after a job." + +"You lorst your job again, then?" cried Mrs. Bindle in accusing tones. +"Somethin' told me you had." + +"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." + +Bindle declined further to satisfy Mrs. Bindle's curiosity. + +"You wait an' see, Mrs. B., you jest wait an' see." + + +II + +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. + +"Wot's your name, ole son?" he enquired. "Mine's Bindle--Joseph +Bindle." + +"Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino," replied the Italian with astonishing +rapidity. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Wot did you call 'im, Joe?" enquired Scratcher, pushing his way +through the crowd. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Call who?" enquired Scratcher, his mouth full of something. + +Bindle looked about warily. "Ole Kayser," he whispered. "'E's that +sensitive. Explodes if you looks at 'im, 'e does." + +Scratcher worked hard to reduce the contents of his mouth to +conversational proportions. + +"I can't never remember 'is name," continued Bindle. "Went off like a +rattle it did." + +"Don't know 'is name myself," said Scratcher after a gigantic swallow. +"'E's new." + +"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." + +"'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. + +"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?" + +"Call me sair," replied Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino with dignity. + +"Call you wot?" cried Bindle indignantly. "Call you wot?" + +"Call me sair," repeated the Italian. + +"Me call a foreigner 'sir!'" cried Bindle. "Now ain't you the funniest +ole 'Uggins." + +Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino cast upon Bindle a look of consuming +hatred. + +"Look 'ere," remarked Bindle cheerfully, "if you goes about a-lookin' +like that, you'll spoil the good impression them whiskers make." + +Murder flashed in the eyes of the Italian, as he ground out a +paralysing oath in his own tongue. + +"There's a-goin' to be trouble between me an' ole 'Okey-Pokey. +Pleasant sort o' cove to 'ave about the 'ouse." + +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. + +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." + +"Wot's 'e done?" enquired Scratcher. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Bouillabaisse de Marseilles, pommes sautees," called out one +customer. Bindle, who was hurrying past, came to a dead stop and +regarded him with interest. + +"D'you mind sayin' that again, sir," he remarked. + +"Bouillabaisse de Marseilles, pommes sautees," repeated the customer. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" was Bindle's comment. + +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. + +"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. + +"Bullybase de Marsales pumsortay is things to eat, Joe," he explained; +"you got to learn the mane-yu." + +"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. + +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. + +"New to this job?" he enquired. + +"You've 'it it, sir," was Bindle's reply. "New _as_ 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." + +"Hokey-Pokey!" interrogated the guest. + +"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." + +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. + +"You shall 'ave 'alf, ole son," said Bindle magnanimously, "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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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 creme caramel from the inside of his waistcoat. + +Suddenly his eyes lighted on Bindle. + +In an instant he was on his feet and, with head down and arms waving +like flails, he rushed at his enemy. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"Berlice!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At first he endeavoured to emulate his confreres. 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. + +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. + +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 his +grip on the Welsh rarebit, which slid off the plate on to his lap. + +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. + +With great care Bindle returned it to the plate, with the exception of +such portions as clung affectionately to the customer's person. + +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. + +"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. + +The man looked up in surprise. + +"You'd better take that away," he said. "That bird's a bit too +enterprising for me." + +"A bit too wot, sir?" interrogated Bindle, lifting the plate to his +nose. "I don't smell it, sir," he added seriously. + +"I ordered 'caille en casserole,'" responded the man. "You bring me +'caille en cocotte.'" + +"D'you mind saying that in English, sir?" asked Bindle, wholly at sea. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Placing the wine-cooler on a service-table, he left it for a few +minutes, whilst he laid covers for the new arrivals. + +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. + +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 monocle began searching about in a short-sighted +manner for his lost property. + +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. + +"You damn fool!" yelled the man to Bindle. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +The inspector took a note-book from his pocket. + +"What is your name and address?" he asked of Bindle. + +Bindle gave the necessary details, adding, "I'm a special, Fulham +District. Wot's up?" + +"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. + +"Wot's 'e goin' to be charged with, assault an' battery?" enquired +Bindle curiously. + +"Under the Defence of the Realm Act," replied the inspector. +"Documents were found on him." + +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. + +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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RETURN OF CHARLIE DIXON + + +"Oh, Uncle Joe! Charlie's back, and he's going to take us out +to-night, and I'm so happy." + +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. + +"I thought I should catch you as you were going home," she cried. +"Uncle Joe, I--I think I want to cry." + +"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." + +"Because I'm so happy," cried Millie, dancing along beside him, her +hands still clasping his arm. + +"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. + +"You will come, Uncle Joe, won't you?" There was eager entreaty in her +voice. "We shall be at Putney Bridge at seven." + +"I'm afraid I can't to-night, Millikins," replied Bindle. "I got a job +on." + +"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 _must_ come;" and Bindle saw a hint of tears +in the moisture that gathered in her eyes. + +He coughed and blew his nose vigorously before replying. + +"You young love-birds won't miss me," he remarked rather lamely. + +"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 _meeee_?" + +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'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." + +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 Cafe, +and they've got a band, and, oh! it will be lovely just having you +two." + +"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." + +"But don't you want to come, Uncle Joe?" asked Millie, anxiety in her +voice. + +"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. + +"Oh, Uncle Joe!" cried Millie, "how could you think anything so +dreadful. Why, wasn't it you who gave me Charlie?" + +Bindle looked curiously at her. He was always discovering in his niece +naive little touches that betokened the dawn of womanhood. + +"Ain't we becomin' a woman, Millikins!" he cried, whereat Millie +blushed. + +"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. + +Bindle watched her neat little figure as she tripped away. At the +corner she turned and waved her hand to him, then disappeared. + +"Now I don't remember promisin' nothink," he muttered. "Ain't that +jest Millikins all over, a-twistin' 'er pore ole uncle 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." + +At five minutes to seven Bindle was at Putney Bridge Station. + +"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. + +"'Ere, steady now, young feller," cautioned Bindle as he hesitatingly +extended his hand. "No pinchin'!" + +Charlie Dixon laughed. The heartiness of his grip was notorious among +his friends. + +"I'm far too glad to see you to want to hurt you, Uncle Joe," he said. + +"Uncle Joe!" exclaimed Bindle in surprise, "Uncle Joe!" + +"I told him to, Uncle Joe," explained Millie. "You see," she added +with a wise air of possession, "you belong to us both now." + +"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. + +"Oh, Uncle Joe!" cried Millie in awe, "you've booked first-class." + +"We're a first-class party to-night, ain't we, Charlie?" was Bindle's +only comment. + +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. + +"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. + +"Well, Millikins!" he cried, as they stood waiting for the train, "an' +wot d'you think of 'is Nibs?" + +"I think he's lovely, Uncle Joe!" said Millie, blushing and nestling +closer to her lover. + +"Not much chance for your ole uncle now, eh?" There was a note of +simulated regret in Bindle's voice. + +"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, +_reeeeeally_!" + +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. + +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. + +"My! ain't we a little mouse!" cried Bindle as they passed down the +moving-stairway at Earl's Court. + +"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." + +"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'." + +As they entered the Universal Cafe, 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. + +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. + +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 demanded the wine-list and +ordered a bottle of "Number 68," the pinnacle broke into a thousand +scintillating flashes of light. + +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. + +"I've ordered the dinner; I suppose that'll do," he remarked with a +man-of-the-world air. + +Millie smiled her acquiescence. Bindle, not to be outdone in +savoir-faire, picked up the menu and regarded it with wrinkled brow. + +"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." + +"Asparagus," cried Millie, proud of her knowledge, "I love it." + +"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." + +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. + +"Oh! what is it?" cried Millie, clasping her hands in excitement. + +"Champagne!" said Charlie Dixon. + +"Oh, Charlie!" cried Millie, gazing at her lover in proud wonder. +"Isn't it--isn't it most awfully expensive?" + +Charlie Dixon laughed. Bindle looked at him quizzically. + +"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." + +"But ought I to drink it, Uncle Joe?" questioned Millie doubtfully, +looking at the bubbles rising through the amber liquid. + +"If you wants to be temperance you didn't ought to----" + +"I don't, Uncle Joe," interrupted Millie eagerly; "but father----" + +"That ain't nothink to do with it," replied Bindle. "You're grown up +now, Millikins, an' you got to decide things for yourself." + +And Millie Hearty drank champagne for the first time. + +When coffee arrived, Charlie Dixon, who had been singularly quiet +during the meal, exploded his mine. It came about as the result of +Bindle's enquiry as to how long his leave would last. + +"Ten days," he replied, "and--and I want----" He paused hesitatingly. + +"Out with it, young feller," demanded Bindle. "Wot is it that you +wants?" + +"I want Millie to marry me before I go back." The words came out with +a rush. + +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. + +"Oh! but I couldn't, Charlie. Father wouldn't let me, and--and----" + +Bindle looked at Charlie Dixon. + +"Millie, you will, won't you, dear?" said Charlie Dixon. "I've got to +go back in ten days, and--and----" + +"Oh, Charlie, I--I----" began Millie, then her voice broke. + +"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?" + +Millie's wide-open eyes contracted into a smile. + +"Yes, Uncle Joe, please," she answered demurely. + +"Now, Charlie, do you want to marry Millikins?" demanded Bindle. + +"Ra_ther_," responded Charlie Dixon with alacrity. + +"Then wot d'you want to make all this bloomin' fuss about?" demanded +Bindle. + +"But--but it's so little time," protested Millie, blushing. + +"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." + +The lovers exchanged glances and meaning smiles. + +"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?" + +"Oh, Uncle Joe!" quavered Millie. + +"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?" + +"It will be rotten," said Charlie Dixon with conviction. + +"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?" + +They both laughed. Bindle was irresistible to them. + +"It's a question of patriotism. If you can't buy War Bonds, marry +Charlie Dixon, and do the ole Kayser in." + +"But father, Uncle Joe?" protested Millie. "What will he say?" + +"'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." + +There was a grim note in his voice, which caused Charlie Dixon to look +at him curiously. + +"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." + +"Oh! but I can't, Uncle Joe," Millie protested; "I simply can't. +Father can be----" She broke off. + +"Very well then," remarked Bindle resignedly, "the Germans'll beat +us." + +Millie smiled in spite of herself. + +"I'll--I'll try, Uncle Joe," she conceded. + +"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!" + +Millie and Charlie Dixon looked at Bindle admiringly. + +"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?" + +Charlie Dixon shook his head. The question was beyond him. + +"We shall never be able to thank you, Uncle Joe," said Millie. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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." + +"And you will, Millie?" enquired Charlie Dixon eagerly. + +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. + +As she entered the carriage Bindle stepped back to Charlie Dixon. + +"You jest make all your plans, young feller," he said. "Let me know +the day an' she'll be there." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +MR. HEARTY YIELDS + + +"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." + +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 degree of heat. +There was a note of contemptuous disgust in Bindle's voice that was +new to her. + +"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. + +"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. + +"Well, what is it?" enquired Mrs. Bindle at length, too curious longer +to remain quiet. + +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. + +"Well, what's he done now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle again with asperity. + +"'E says Millikins ain't goin' to marry Charlie Dixon." There was +anger in Bindle's voice. + +"You're a nice one," commented Mrs. Bindle, "Always sneerin' at +marriage, an' now you're blaming Mr. Hearty because he won't----" + +"Well, I'm blowed!" Bindle wheeled round, his good-humour re-asserting +itself, "I 'adn't thought o' that." + +Having cleared away her ironing, Mrs. Bindle threw the white +tablecloth over the table with an angry flourish. + +"Now ain't that funny!" continued Bindle, as if highly amused at Mrs. +Bindle's discovery. "Now ain't that funny!" he repeated. + +"Seems to amuse you," she retorted acidly. + +"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. + +"Supper'll be ready in five minutes," said Mrs. Bindle with indrawn +lips. + +"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 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. + +When Bindle returned in his uniform, supper was ready. For some time +the meal proceeded in silence. + +"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." + +"You're jealous, that's what you are," remarked Mrs. Bindle with +conviction. + +"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." + +"What are you goin' to say to Mr. Hearty?" enquired Mrs. Bindle +suspiciously. + +"Well," remarked Bindle, "that depends rather on wot 'Earty's goin' to +say to me." + +"You've no right to interfere in his affairs." + +"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." + +"You didn't ought to go round upsetting him," said Mrs. Bindle +aggressively. "He's got enough troubles." + +"'E's goin' to 'ave another to-night, Mrs. B.; an' if 'e ain't +careful, 'e'll probably 'ave another to-morrow night." + +Mrs. Bindle banged the lid on a dish. + +"You ain't against them kids a-gettin' married, are you?" Bindle +demanded. "You used to be sort of fond of Millikins." + +"No! I'm not against it; but I'm not goin' to interfere in Mr. +Hearty's affairs," said Mrs. Bindle virtuously. + +"Well, I _am_," said Bindle grimly, as he rose and reached for his +cap. A moment later he left the room, whistling cheerily. + +At the Heartys' house Millie opened the door. + +"Oh, Uncle Joe!" she cried, "I wondered whether you would come." + +"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 in the +drawing-room, then you'll turn on the light an' be'ave as if I was a +real lemonade-swell." + +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. + +Five minutes later Mr. Hearty entered. From the movement of his +fingers, it was obvious that he was ill at ease. + +"'Ullo, 'Earty!" said Bindle genially. + +"Good evening, Joseph," responded Mr. Hearty. + +"Trade good?" enquired Bindle conversationally. + +"Quite good, thank you, Joseph," was the response. + +"Goin' to open any more shops?" was the next question. + +Mr. Hearty shook his head. + +Bindle sucked contentedly at his pipe. + +"Won't you sit down, 'Earty?" he asked solicitously. + +Mr. Hearty sat down mechanically, then, a moment later, rose to his +feet. + +"Now, 'Earty," said Bindle, "you and me are goin' to 'ave a little +talk about Millikins." + +Mr. Hearty stiffened visibly. + +"I--I don't understand," he said. + +"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?" + +"Most emphatically not," said Mr. Hearty with decision. "Millie is too +young; she's not twenty yet." + +"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." + +"But Millie only asked me this morning," protested Mr. Hearty, whose +literalness always placed him at a disadvantage with Bindle. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Quite right, 'Earty," agreed Bindle genially, "quite right, you said +it in them very words." Bindle's imperturbability caused Mr. Hearty to +look at him anxiously. + +"Then why do you come here to-night and--and----?" He broke off +nervously. + +"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?" + +"I have just told you, Joseph," remarked Mr. Hearty angrily, "that +they are not going to be married." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"I tell you, Joseph, that I shall not allow Millie to marry this young +man on Tuesday. I am very busy and I must----" + +"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." + +"I have been very patient with you for some years past, Joseph," began +Mr. Hearty, "and I must confess----" + +"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?" + +"I refuse to discuss such matters, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty with +dignity. + +"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. + +"I thought I had made that clear." Mr. Hearty's hands shook with +nervousness. + +"You 'ave, 'Earty, you 'ave," said Bindle mournfully. + +"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." + +Bindle looked at Mr. Hearty in surprise. He had never known him so +determined. + +"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. + +"Look 'ere, 'Earty!" said Bindle calmly, "if you goes on like that, +you'll be ill." + +"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----" + +"Brothers in the Lord," suggested Bindle. + +"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. + +"Spit it out, 'Earty," said Bindle encouragingly. "There ain't no +ladies present." + +"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. + +"'Ave you really!" was Bindle's sole comment. + +"I have a clue!" There was woolly triumph in Mr. Hearty's voice. + +"You don't say so!" said Bindle with unruffled calm. "You better see +the panel doctor, an' 'ave it taken out." + +Mr. Hearty was disappointed at the effect of what he had hoped would +prove a bombshell. + +"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. + +"So Millikins ain't goin' to be allowed to marry Charlie Dixon?" said +Bindle with gloomy resignation as he rose. + +"Certainly not," said Mr. Hearty. "My mind is made up." + +"Nothink wouldn't make you change it, I suppose?" enquired Bindle. + +"Nothing, Joseph." There was no trace of indecision in Mr. Hearty's +voice now. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"I have consulted my solicitor." Mr. Hearty looked swiftly at Bindle, +at a loss to understand the reason for the question. + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" There was ill-disguised alarm in Mr. Hearty's +voice. + +"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. + +"Joseph," called out Mr. Hearty, "I want to speak to you." + +Bindle re-entered. Mr. Hearty walked round him and shut the door +stealthily. + +"What do you mean, Joseph?" There was fear in Mr. Hearty's voice and +eyes. + +Bindle walked up to him and whispered something in his ear. + +"I--I----" Mr. Hearty stuttered and paled. "My God!" + +"You see, 'Earty, she told me all about it at the time," said Bindle +calmly. + +"It's a lie, a damned lie!" shouted Mr. Hearty. + +"'Ush, 'Earty, 'ush!" said Bindle gently. "Such language from you! Oh, +naughty! 'Earty, naughty!" + +"It's a lie, I tell you." Mr. Hearty's voice was almost tearful. "It's +a wicked endeavour to ruin me." + +"All you got to do, 'Earty," said Bindle, "is to go to ole +Six-an'-Eightpence an' 'ave 'er up." + +"It's a lie, I tell you," said Mr. Hearty weakly as he sank down upon +the couch. + +"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 '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. + +"Joseph, you must stop her!" Mr. Hearty sprang up, his eyes dilated +with fear. + +"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----" + +"But--but you must, Joseph," pleaded Mr. Hearty. "If this was to get +about, it would ruin me." + +"Now ain't you funny, 'Earty," said Bindle. "'Ere are you a-wantin' me +to do wot you said 'urt your feelin's." + +"If you do this, Joseph, I'll--I'll----" + +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." + +"You will see----" began Mr. Hearty. + +"Right-o!" replied Bindle cheerfully. "You leave it to me." + +Mr. Hearty turned meekly and walked downstairs to the parlour, where +Mrs. Hearty and Millie were seated. + +"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." + +Millie jumped up and ran to Bindle. + +"Oh, Uncle Joe, you darling!" she cried. + +"Yes, ain't I? that's wot all the ladies tell me, Millikins. Makes +your Aunt Lizzie so cross, it does." + +"'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. + +"Oh, Uncle Joe, you're absolutely wonderful! I think you could do +anything in the world," she said. + +"I wonder," muttered Bindle, as he walked off, "if they'll charge me +up with that little fairy tale I told 'Earty." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A BILLETING ADVENTURE + + +"Some'ow or other, Ginger, I feel I'm goin' to 'ave quite an 'appy +day." + +Bindle proceeded to light his pipe with the care of a man to whom +tobacco means both mother and wife. + +"I don't 'old wiv playin' the fool like you do, Joe," grumbled Ginger. +"It only gets you the sack." + +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. + +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. + +For the wounded soldiers taking their morning constitutional he had +always a pleasant word. + +"'Ullo, matey, 'ow goes it?" he would cry. + +"Cheerio!" would come back the reply. + +"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." + +From the top of the pantechnicon could be heard Wilkes's persistent +cough, whilst Huggles was in charge of the "ribbons." + +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." + +"I don't 'old wiv' walkin' to save 'orses," grumbled Ginger. "I'm +tired o' bein' on my feet." + +"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!" + +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. + +On Bindle's head was the inevitable cricket cap of alternate triangles +of blue and white, which exposure to all sorts of weather 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 anaesthetic which enabled him to undergo the +operation of life. + +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." + +"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'." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"'E can't 'elp it," was Ginger's reply. + +"No more can't women 'elp twins," Bindle responded. + +"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. + +"It's a good job Gawd don't ask you for advice, Ginger, or 'E'd be up +a tree in about two ticks." + +Ginger grumbled some sort of reply. + +"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?" + +Ginger shook his head mechanically. + +"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?" + +Wilkes stopped coughing to gasp "Twelve." + +"Well, well, 'alf a dozen more or less don't much matter, Wilkie, old +sport. You lined up to your duty, any'ow." + +"Look out for The Poplars, 'Uggles," Bindle called out. "Don't go +passin' of it, an' comin' all the way back." + +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. + +Bindle pulled vigorously at both the visitors' and the servants' +bells. + +"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." + +Ginger grumbled about not "'oldin'" with something or other, and +Huggles clambered stiffly down from the driver's seat. + +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. + +"Mornin', Eustace," said Bindle civilly, "we've come." + +John regarded Bindle with a blank expression, but made no response. + +"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." + +"You've made a mistake, my man," was the footman's response. "We've +not ordered any beds for soldiers." + +"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 '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.'" + +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?" + +"This is her ladyship's residence," replied John. + +"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." + +The footman looked irresolute. + +"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. + +A minute later, the butler, Mr. Wilton, approached. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he enquired. + +"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. + +"There must be some mistake," replied the butler pompously, taking the +document. + +"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. + +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. + +"John, ask Mrs. Marlings to step here," he ordered the footman. John +disappeared swiftly. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"Her ladyship hasn't said anythink to me about the matter," she said +in an aggrieved tone. + +"Nor me either," said Mr. Wilton. + +Mrs. Marlings sniffed, as if there was nothing in her mistress not +having taken Mr. Wilton into her confidence. + +"'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." + +This remark seemed to galvanise Mr. Wilton into action. + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +"Not there, my man," he said. + +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. + +"'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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +At the sound of the van being backed against the house, Bindle went to +the window. + +"'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!" + +Bindle returned to the work of making room for the bedsteads. Suddenly +he paused in front of John. + +"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." + +Suddenly Huggles' voice was heard from without. + +"Hi, Joe!" he cried. + +"'Ullo!" responded Bindle, going to the window. + +"Where's the ladder?" came Huggles' question. + +"Where d'you s'pose it is, 'Uggles? Why, in Wilkie's waistcoat pocket +o' course;" and Bindle left it at that. + +Just as Huggles' head appeared above the window, Mr. Wilton +re-entered. + +"I have telephoned to Harridges," he said. "Her ladyship's +instructions are quite clear, there seems to be no mistake." + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"I don't 'old with ruddy waiters, like 'im," he remarked. + +"All right, Ging, never you mind about Dicky Bird, you get on with +your work." + +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. + +"'E's on the bust now all right!" grinned Bindle as he regarded his +handiwork. + +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. + +Throughout the proceedings Wilkes's cough could be heard as a sort of +accompaniment from without. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +When Bindle entered a minute later he sniffed at the air in +astonishment. + +"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. + +Huggles muttered something about it being his dinner hour. + +"I don't 'old wiv wastin' food," began Ginger. + +"I don't care wot you 'old with, Ging, you got to chuck that sojer on +the fire." + +"It's only an 'erring," began Ginger. + +"Yes; but it's got the stink of a whale," cried Bindle. + +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. + +"Oh!" she cried, starting back, "whathever 'as 'appened? What a +dreadful smell! Where can it----" + +"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." + +"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. + +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 have viewed the +reverses of the Greeks. "Oh! Mr. Wilton! take hit away, please, hit +will poison us." + +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. + +Ginger's eyes were glued to the blackened shape. + +"It ain't every red 'errin' wot 'as a funeral like that," remarked +Bindle to Ginger. + +Mr. Wilton threw open the door. Suddenly John started back and +retreated, the herring still held before him, all smell and blue +smoke. + +"'Old me, 'Orace!" murmured Bindle, who was in a direct line with the +door, "if it ain't the Ole Bird!" + +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. + +"Wilton, what is that John is holding?" Lady Knob-Kerrick prided +herself on her self-control. + +All eyes were immediately turned upon John, who shivered slightly. + +"It is what they call a herring, a red-herring, my lady," responded +Wilton. "Poor people eat them, I believe." + +"And what is it doing in my drawing-room?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick +with ominous calm. + +"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----" + +"Hold your tongue!" said Lady Knob-Kerrick, turning to Bindle and +withering him through her lorgnettes. + +She turned once more to her major-domo. + +"Wilton," she demanded, "what is the meaning of this outrage?" + +"It's the billets, my lady." + +"The what?" + +"The billets, my lady." + +"I haven't ordered any billets. What are billets?" + +Suddenly her eye caught sight of the bust of the late Sir Benjamin +Biggs. + +"Who did that?" Rage had triumphed over self-control. + +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. + +"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. + +"One of the workmen!" stormed Lady Knob-Kerrick. "Is everybody mad? +What is being done with my drawing-room?" + +Bindle stepped forward. + +"We come from 'Arridges, mum, with the beds an' things for the +soldiers." + +"For the what?" demanded her ladyship. + +"For the soldiers' billets, mum," explained Bindle. "You're goin' to +billet sixteen soldiers 'ere." + +"Billet sixteen soldiers!" almost screamed her ladyship, red in the +face. + +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?" + +Lady Knob-Kerrick continued to stare at him stonily. + +"'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." + +"But I tell you there is a mistake," cried Lady Knob-Kerrick angrily. +"I have no intention of billeting soldiers _in my drawing-room_." + +"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. + +"Forgotten what?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick. + +"Forgotten that you want sixteen soldiers, mum." + +"Halt!" + +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: + +"'Ere's the sixteen soldiers, mum, so there ain't no mistake." + +"The what?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick looking about her helplessly. + +"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. + +"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. + +"The soldiers, my lady," he announced. + +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. + +The men gazed about them curiously. + +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. + +"I hope we haven't come too soon, your ladyship?" + +Lady Knob-Kerrick continued to stare at him through her lorgnettes. +Wilton stepped forward. + +"There has been a mistake. Her Ladyship cannot billet soldiers." + +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.'" + +"Cater for them!" almost shrieked Lady Knob-Kerrick. "Cater for +sixteen soldiers! I haven't ordered sixteen soldiers." + +"I'm very sorry," said the sergeant, "but it's--it's----" The man +looked at the paper he held in his hand. + +"I don't care what you've got there," said Lady Knob-Kerrick rudely. +"Strint!" + +Lady Knob-Kerrick had suddenly caught sight of Miss Strint. + +"Yes, my lady?" responded Miss Strint. + +"Did I order sixteen soldiers?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick in a tone +she always adopted with servants when she wanted confirmation. + +"No, my lady, not as far as I know." + +Lady Knob-Kerrick turned triumphantly to the sergeant, and stared at +him through her lorgnettes. + +"You hear?" she demanded. + +"Yes, my lady, I hear," said the sergeant, respectful, but puzzled. + +"Don't you think, mum, you could let 'em stay," insinuated Bindle, +"seein' that all the stuff's 'ere." + +"Let them stay!" Lady Knob-Kerrick regarded Bindle in amazement. "Let +them stay _in my drawing-room_!" She pronounced the last four words as +if Bindle's remark had outraged her sense of delicacy. + +"They wouldn't be doin' no 'arm, mum, if----" + +"No harm!" cried Lady Knob-Kerrick, gazing indignantly at Bindle +through her lorgnettes. "Soldiers in my drawing-room!" + +"If it wasn't for them, mum," said Bindle dryly, "you'd be 'avin' +soldiers in your bedroom--'Uns," he added significantly. + +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. + +"Why are _you_ not in the army?" she demanded, with the air of a +cross-examining counsel about to draw from a witness a damning +admission. + +Bindle scratched his head through his cricket-cap. He was conscious +that all eyes were turned upon him. + +"Answer me!" commanded Lady Knob-Kerrick triumphantly. "Why are you +not in the army?" + +Bindle looked up innocently at his antagonist. + +"You got 'various' veins in your legs, mum?" He lowered his eyes to +Lady Knob-Kerrick's boots. + +"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. + +"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." + +"I seen 'im!" + +The remark came from Ginger, who, finding that he had centred upon +himself everybody's attention, looked extremly ill-at-ease. Bindle +looked across at him in surprise. Impulse with Ginger was rare. + +With flaming face and murderous eyes Lady Knob-Kerrick turned to the +sergeant. + +"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. + +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. + +"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: + +"Noooooooo!" + +"My! ain't them boys jest 'It,'" muttered Bindle as he withdrew his +head and proceeded with the work of reloading the van. + +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. + +"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'." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MILLIE'S WEDDING + + +"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'!" + +Bindle readjusted the crush-hat that had come to him as part 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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mrs. Bindle sniffed and continued patting her hair with the palm of +her hand. Bindle still stood regarding his crush-hat regretfully. + +"You can't wear a hat like that at a wedding," snapped Mrs. Bindle; +"that's for a dress-suit." + +Bindle heaved a sigh. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"Personally myself," he remarked, "I don't see that Charlie'll 'ave a +sportin' chance to-day. Lord! I pays for dressin'," he 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. + +"Ah! Mrs. B.," Bindle said reprovingly, "late again, late again!" He +proceeded to bite off the end of a cigar which he lit. + +"Don't smoke that cigar," snapped Mrs. Bindle. + +"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." + +"Don't you use those words at me," retorted Mrs. Bindle. "If you smoke +you'll smell of smoke in the chapel." + +"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." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind," cried Mrs. Bindle with decision. "You +mustn't see a bride before she appears at the chapel." + +Bindle stopped dead on his way to the door and, turning round, +exclaimed, "Mustn't wot?" + +"You mustn't see a bride before she appears at the chapel or church. +It isn't proper." + +"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'?" + +"Certainly not," said Mrs. Bindle. + +"But why?" persisted Bindle. + +"Because it's not proper; it's not the right thing to do," replied +Mrs. Bindle, as she struggled into her bodice. + +"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." + +"Thought you didn't believe in marriage," said Mrs. Bindle acidly. + +"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 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." + +There was a grimness in Bindle's voice that caused Mrs. Bindle to +pause in the process of pinning a brooch in her bodice. + +"Yes, Mrs. B.," continued Bindle, "that little gal means an 'ell of a +lot to me, I----" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'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!" + +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. + +"Well, well, s'long, all of you!" said Bindle. "It ain't my weddin', +that's one thing." + +There were cheery responses to Bindle's remarks, and sotto voce +references to Mrs. Bindle as "a stuck-up cat." + +"Mind you throw that cigar away before we get to the chapel," said +Mrs. Bindle, still working at her gloves. + +"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. + +"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Mrs. Bindle snappishly. + +"Wouldn't do wot?" enquired Bindle innocently. + +"Recognising common people when you're with me," was the response. + +"But that was 'Arry Sales," said Bindle, puzzled at Mrs. Bindle's +attitude. "'E ain't common, 'e drives a motor-bus." + +"What will people think?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. + +"Oh! they're used to 'Arry drivin' a bus," replied Bindle. "They might +think it funny if he was to drive an 'earse." + +"You know what I mean," said Mrs. Bindle. "Why can't you remember that +you're goin' to a wedding." + +"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." + +"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. + +There was a small collection of women and children outside the chapel +doors. + +"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Bindle suddenly. + +"Where?" enquired Bindle, looking first to the right and left, then on +the ground and finally up at the sky. + +"I knew we should be late," said Mrs. Bindle. "There's the carriage." + +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. + +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. + +"It's like a game of 'ockey," said Bindle who had come up at this +moment. "Go it, 'Earty, you got it!" + +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. + +"Excuse me, sir!" said the stranger. + +"But it's my hat," said Mr. Hearty, endeavouring to restore something +of its lost glossiness. + +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. + +"It's a good omen, Uncle Joe," whispered Millie as she clung to +Bindle's arm. + +"Wot's a good omen, Millikins?" enquired Bindle. + +"That you should take me in instead of father," she whispered just as +Mr. Hearty bustled up and relieved Bindle. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"'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. + +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. + +Millie, clinging to her soldier-husband, stood with downcast eyes. +Bindle looked at her with interest, as she stood a meek and charming +figure in a coat and skirt of puritan grey, with a toque of the same +shade. + +Mr. Sopley shook hands mechanically with everybody, casting his eyes +up to heaven as if mournfully presaging the worst. + +"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. + +It was Bindle who broke up the proceedings. + +"Now then, Charlie, 'op it, I'm 'ungry!" he said; and Charlie Dixon, +who had seemed paralysed, moved towards the vestry door. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Is that so?" remarked Mr. Sopley, not in the least understanding what +Bindle was saying. + +"It is," said Bindle solemnly; "you see, they goes back into stock." + +"Ah-h-h-h!" remarked Mr. Sopley, gazing at the roof of the carriage. + +"Clever ole bird this," muttered Bindle. "About as brainy as a +cock-sparrow wot's 'ad the wind knocked out of 'im." + +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. + +"'Ullo, 'ullo!" cried Bindle as he entered with Mr. Sopley. "Ain't +this a jolly little crowd!" + +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. + +Mr. Sopley stepped back and struck his head against the edge of the +door. + +"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. + +"Couldn't we 'ave an 'ymn?" suggested Bindle. + +Mr. Hearty looked round from abjectly apologising to Mr. Sopley. He +hesitated a moment and glanced towards the harmonium. + +"Uncle Joe is only joking, father," said Millie. + +Mr. Hearty looked at Bindle reproachfully. + +"Now then, let's set down," said Bindle. + +After much effort and a considerable expenditure of physical force, he +managed to get the guests seated at the table. + +At a sign from Mr. Hearty, Mr. Sopley rose to say grace. + +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. + +"Ole 'Earty playing 'ockey with 'is top 'at under----" Then Bindle +stopped, looking about him with a grin. + +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. + +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. + +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 opposite, 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. + +Alice, the maid-servant, reinforced by her sister Bertha, heavy of +face and flat of foot, attended to the wants of the guests. + +The meal began in constrained silence. The first episode resulted from +Alice's whispered enquiry if Mr. Dixon would have lime-juice or +lemonade. + +"Beer!" cried Mr. Dixon in a loud voice. + +Alice looked across at Mr. Hearty, who, being quite unequal to the +situation, looked at Alice, and then directed his gaze towards Mr. +Sopley. + +"I beg pardon, sir?" said Alice. + +"Beer!" roared Mr. Dixon. + +Everybody began to feel uncomfortable except Bindle, who was watching +the little comedy with keen enjoyment. + +"We--we----" began Mr. Hearty--"we don't drink beer, Mr. Dixon." + +"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?" + +Mr. Hearty shook his head miserably, as if fully conscious of his +shortcomings. + +"Extraordinary!" said Mr. Dixon, "most extraordinary!" + +"Well, I'll have a whisky-and-soda," he conceded magnanimously. + +Mr. Hearty rolled his eyes and cast a languishing glance in the +direction of Mrs. Bindle. + +"We are temperance," said Mr. Hearty. + +"What!" roared Mr. Dixon incredulously. "Temperance! temperance at a +wedding!" + +"Always," said Mr. Hearty. + +"Hmmmm!" snorted Mr. Dixon. He glared down the length of the table as +if the guests comprised a new species. + +Alice repeated her question about the lemonade and lime-juice. + +"I should be sick if I drank it," said Mr. Dixon crossly. "I'll have a +cup of tea." + +"'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." + +Mrs. Dixon smiled understandingly. + +The meal continued, gloomily silent, or with whispered conversations, +as if the guests were afraid of hearing their own voices. + +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." + +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. + +"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 _The Pink 'Un_." + +Bindle looked round to assure himself that he had attracted the +attention of the whole table. + +"Now this is it. 'The Lord said unto Moses come forth, and 'e come +fifth an' lorst the cup.'" + +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. + +"You've lost your money, Mr. Bindle, you've lost your money; it's _The +Pink 'Un_, I'll bet my life on it," choked Mr. Dixon. "Best thing I've +heard for years, 'pon my soul it is!" he cried. + +"Mr. Bindle, I'm afraid you are a very naughty man," said Mrs. Dixon +gently. + +"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." + +"Bindle, remember there are ladies present!" cried the outraged Mrs. +Bindle from the other side of the table. + +"It's all right, Mrs. B.," said Bindle reassuringly. "These was +gentlemen twins." + +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. + +"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." + +When everyone had eaten to repletion, Mr. Hearty cast a 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. + +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. + +"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: + +"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. + +"'Ere, I say, sir," broke in Bindle. "Cheer up, this ain't a funeral." + +There were murmurs of "Husssssssssh!" Mrs. Hearty began to cry +quietly. Mr. Hearty appeared portentously solemn, Mrs. Bindle looked +almost cheerful. + +"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. + +"Marriages," continued Mr. Sopley, "marriages are made in heaven----" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +Interpreting the glance to mean that Bindle contemplated replying, +Mrs. Bindle kicked him beneath the table. + +"'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." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dixon laughed loudly; into Mrs. Bindle's cheeks there stole a +flush of anger. + +"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. 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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Mrs. Dixon smiled. Mr. Dixon guffawed. Mr. Hearty looked anxiously +from Mrs. Bindle to Mr. Sopley. + +"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. + +"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. + +"'Right-o, ole sport!' they'll say, ''op in.' + +"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." + +Again Mr. Dixon's hearty laugh rang out. "Splendid!" he cried. +"Splendid!" + +"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?" + +Everybody turned to regard Mrs. Bindle. + +"Then," continued Bindle, "there's 'Earty. Look at 'im. One of the +jolliest coves I know." + +Mechanically all eyes were directed towards Mr. Hearty. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Bravo!" he cried. "Bravo! one of the best speeches I've ever heard. +Excellent! Splendid!" + +Everybody looked at everybody else, as if wondering what would happen +next, and obviously deploring Mr. Dixon's misguided enthusiasm. + +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. + +Charlie Dixon walked across to Bindle. + +"Get us off quickly, Uncle Joe, will you," he whispered. "Millie +doesn't think she can stand much more." + +"Right-o, Charlie!" replied Bindle. "Leave it to me." + +"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." + +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: + +"Ain't I an ole fool, mum?" he said. + +"Mr. Bindle," she said in a voice that was none too well under +control, "I think you have been their fairy-godmother." + +"Well I am a bit of an ole woman at times," remarked Bindle, +swallowing elaborately. "Now I must run after my little bit of +'eaven, or else she'll be off with Ole Woe-and-Whiskers. It's +wonderful 'ow misery seems to attract some women." + +He took two steps towards the door, then turning to Mrs. Dixon said: + +"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." + +Mrs. Dixon's tears were now raining fast down her cheeks. + +"Mr. Bindle," she said, "you must be a very good man." + +Bindle stared at her for a moment in astonishment, and then turned and +walked through the Heartys' private door. + +"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. + + + THE END + + + + + +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.txt or 32285.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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