Classic Audiobook Collection - Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins ~ Full Audiobook [comedy]

Episode Date: January 26, 2023

Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins audiobook. Genre: comedy In early 20th-century London, Joseph Bindle is a mild-mannered, endlessly helpful little man whose greatest talent is turning everyday errands into unexpected escapades. A working-class clerk with a gift for friendly chatter and an instinct to do the 'right thing' (even when no one asked), Bindle drifts through streets, shops, pubs, and parlors with the cheerful certainty that everything will work out - and the stubborn determination to make it so. At home, his capable wife, Mrs. Bindle, tries to keep order and dignity intact while her husband collects odd jobs, acquaintances, and misunderstandings like souvenirs. When a series of small obligations, favors, and chance encounters pulls Bindle into other people's private troubles, he finds himself juggling loyalty, reputation, and the unwritten rules of his neighborhood. Warmly observant and sharply funny, Adventures of Bindle follows one ordinary man as he navigates social class, respectability, and community ties, proving that heroism can look a lot like persistence, kindness, and a well-timed cup of tea - even when chaos is never far behind. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:27:59) Chapter 02 (01:01:56) Chapter 03 (01:17:01) Chapter 04 (01:38:34) Chapter 05 (02:01:18) Chapter 06 (02:19:24) Chapter 07 (02:43:33) Chapter 08 (03:19:41) Chapter 09 (03:43:21) Chapter 10 (04:09:05) Chapter 11 (04:23:13) Chapter 12 (04:52:26) Chapter 13 (05:09:02) Chapter 14 (05:25:09) Chapter 15 (05:53:35) Chapter 16 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

adventures of bindle by herbert jenkins 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 anything wrong he inquired solicitously gazing at mrs bindle over the top of the evening paper wrong she cried is there anything wrong fight well there's beer and beady and the boys what's fighting 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 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 vindall 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 chattie you say oh your tongue. If I ain't, chatty, you ask why I ain't a-making love to you." After a moment's silence, he continued meditatively. I kept rabbits, silkworms, and a special kind to perform and flee, and I seem to get to understand them 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 inquire what course was to follow. I answered an advertisement today, 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. About time, I should think, with food getting 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 forefinger. Vindle 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, care of, 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 om rought enough plenty of soap and water and an ember two thrown in so as you won't notice the smell cookin's good likewise and as for om comforts if we ain't got em who has

there's sweeping and scrubbing and mats everywhere mustn't smoke in the parlor unless you happen 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 home comforts to start a colony i'm always tripping 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 wondering said bindle what about i was just wondering continued bindle why we want a lodger us like two lovebirds a singin an a cooing all day long what about the housekeeping demanded mrs bindle aggressively the house-keeping inquired 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 ill suggested bindle helpfully how am i to make both ends meet she demanded i suppose they must meet he inquired tentatively don't be a fool bindle was the response i'm i to make both ends meet she demanded i suppose they must meet he inquired tentatively don't be a fool bindle was the response i ain't goin to be a fool with that there lodger hanging about retorted bindle if he starts a playin with my own comfort he'll find his jaw closed for alterations i'm a desperate feller where my art's concerned there was poor old orus only the other day just back from the front he was bindle paused and shook his head mournfully horace who demanded mrs bindle oris gays replied bindle nice cove too he is hullo oris i calls out when i see him just a-comin from the station with all his kit cheerio says he

the missus'll be glad to see you i says she don't know i'm here yet he says didn't you send her a telegram i asks telegram says he not arf why not lord ain't you a mug joe says he you don't catch me a trustin women i got my own way i have says he mysterious like what is it i asks him well i goes home says e er thinking me at the front rattles me key in the front door, then I nips round to the back and catches the blighter every time. I won't listen to your disgusting stories, said Mrs. Bindle angrily. Disgusting, said Bindle incredulously. You've a lewd mind, Bindle. Well, well, remarked Bindle, it's something to have 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 expect them to pinch your money-box, or if they goes with your misses, and if you're open it'll be your missus 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 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 getting. 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 bie replied bindall good-humouredly i ain't worth aft the love what woman have had 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 bie agreed bindle and what is more i probably always shall be as long as you go on cooking it what i shall do when you go o'erf 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 he he continued i wonder what he plays the jew's arp or a drum seems a rare sport he does chapel-goer temperance quiet musical fond of own comforts good cookin and don't want to pay much regular blood i shall call him 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 how 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 going to give up tobacco said bindle with decision holy angels me with a wife and a lodger and 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 smoking 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 bendell's face the wrinkles and twitches returned and he breathed the sigh of elaborate relief mrs bie he said admiringly you ain't lived for nineteen years with your awful wedded husband loving honourin and obeying him i don't think without learning a thing or two he winked knowingly yes he continued apparently addressing a fly upon the ceiling we'll catch our lodger first and smoke him afterwards all of which is good business funny how 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 placed it swiftly in the dresser drawer gave a hasty glance in the looking-glass over the mantelpiece to assure her herself that all was well with her personal appearance and finally slipped into the parlor 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 her feet is mrs bays muttered bindle and bireingly as he listened intently to the murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps in the passage Presently the parlor door closed and then silence. Bindle fidgeted about the kitchen. He was curious as to what was taking place in the parlor, and above all what manner of man

the prospective lodger would turn out to be. He picked up the evening paper, endeavoring 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 he 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. How the injur-rubber ostrich can a cove raid when he ain't smoking? He muttered discontentedly as he paused to listen. He had detected a movement in the parlor. 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 her hands on her supper, as Bindle had once expressed it. "'He's coming Monday,' she proclaimed with an air of one announcing an event of grave national importance. Does he smoke? inquired Vindel 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 something, admitted Bindle as he proceeded to light his long-neglected pipe. There was poor old Alf Garley, what beer made sick. but he 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. What's disgusting? demanded Bindle. Him watching men make beasts of themselves, retorted Mrs. Bindle. Them making beasts of themselves, Bindle exclaimed. If you'd ever seen Alph after a half a pint,

a beer you wouldn't have said it was them what was making beasts uh mr harty will like him interrupted mrs bendell unable longer to keep off the subject of the lodger mr harty had married mrs bindell's sister and had become a prosperous greengrocer orty like alf old me oros cried mindle i mean mr gupper duck said mrs bindle with dignity mr water duck bindle cried his interest too evident for concealment mr josiah gupparduck repeated mrs bindle with unction that is his name bindle whistled the long low sound of joy and wonder well i'm damned he exclaimed don't you swear before me joseph bindle cried mrs bendell angrily for i won't stand it gupper duck 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 gupparduck is it the jews or for the drum what he plays inquired bindle presently it's neither replied mrs bindle it's the accordion bindle groaned mentally he visualised mr hardy's hymn-singing sunday evenings plus mr gupparduck and his accordion. Well, well, he remarked philosophically.

I suppose we're none of us perfect. He's a very good man and he's going to join our chapel, announced Mrs. Bindle with satisfaction. Bindle groaned again. Artie and Mrs. Bee and old buttercup, he muttered. Joe Bindle, you'll be on the save 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 bedtime.

To Bendel, 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 humor flowed. His red-nose, umbrella, and bloater were ageless. He was a sore of discord in other men's houses, waxing fat on the produce of a stranger's labor. He would as cheerfully go off with his landlord's wife forever 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, forever in the slew 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 deathbedside of wealth. He was unthinkable, unforgettable, unejectable, living on all men for all time. Nations rose and declined. Kings came and went, Emperor soared and fell, but the lodger stayed on. Bindle looked forward to the coming of Mr. Gupparduck with keen interest. Since the evening of his call, Mrs. Bindle had become uncommunicative.

What's he do? Bindle had inquired. 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 nothing wrong with my conversation once i gets goin what 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 miss Mrs. Bindle with unction. Well, I hope he 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, half inside and half 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. "'Place to see you, Mr. Gutter,' he paused.

The name had momentarily escaped him. "'Gupperduck! Mr. Josiah Gupperduck!' "'Volentered the lodger. "'It ain't easy, is it?' said Bindle cheerfully. "'Must have caused you a rare lot of trouble a name like that.' Mr. Gupperduck eyed him disapprovingly. He was a small, thin man, with a humorless 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-day's growth of bristles. "'Looks like an owl what's been on the drink,' was Bindle's mental comment. "'You can read his old history in the end of his nose.' "'Been a pleasant day,' remarked Bindle conversationalally, quite forgetful that it had rained continuously since early morning pleasant interrogated mr gupparduck bindle suddenly remembered for the ducks i mean he said then with inspiration added not for gupper ducks 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 ed on the beer this he did by pouring it into the

glass from a distance of fully a yard with astonishing accuracy. Catching Mr. Gupperduck's eye, he winked. Can't get an ed 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, here'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 hypnotized by Mr. Gupperduck's ears. They stood out from each side of his head like signboards as if determined

that nothing should escape them. After a time Mr. Gupperduck began to show signs that the first ardor of his appetite had been appeased. If it ain't a rude question, Mr., began Bindle, might i ask what's your job i'm in the service of the lord replied mr gupparduck 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 gupparduck 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 digging and gettin yourself in an ell of a mess and then somebody comes along and pinches your blooming vegetables i refer to the spiritual seed said mr gupparduck i preach the word-a-duck i preach the word 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, he keeps a few little pickings for his gupper ducks, flashed Bindle. Bindle, Mrs. Bindle glanced across at Mr. Gupparduck. 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. Gupparduck 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. himself to Bindle. What's my what? inquired Bindle with corrugated forehead. He's a blasphemer, Mr. Gupparduck, 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. Bindle, you wouldn't have much time for thinking of anything else. She's as doughty about Evan as an inn over a shop-ag, and as for Artie, that's my brother-in-law. Well, Artie gets my goat when he starts about Evan and 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 of 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 just nip back into their little beds again feeling how 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 inquired bindle as mr gupparduck rose i'm very fond of my accordion replied mr gupparduck i suppose you couldn't give us a tune ventured bindle not to-night mr bindle said mr gupparduck 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 gupparduck could not call to mind an appropriate passage from the scriptures he invented one i'm sorry remarked bindall as mr gupparduck moved towards the door

i wanted you to play a thing i picked up at the grandville the other night it was a rare good song if you squeeze me tight or jimmy i shall scream i can whistle it if but mr gupparduck 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 gupparduck's bedroom door was heard to close me inquired bindle in obvious surprise what must he think of us demanded mrs bindle you with your lewd and blasphemous talk what have i done now inquired bindle in an injured tone talking about baby's legs and-and-oh you make me ashamed you do mrs bindle proceeded to bang away way the supper things steady on admonished bindle or you'll have the duck out of bed what must he think of me with such an husband mrs bindle's aches were dropping from her under the stress of her pent-up feelings well speaking 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 what'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 what takes your fancy you sort of loses your taste for your own husband bendell seated himself at the table and-andedle seated himself at the table and and spread out the evening paper. First it's Artie, then it's Gupperduck.

Now I ask you, Mrs. B., what would you think of I was to say we must have a woman lodger? Now I ask you. That's quite different, cried Mrs. Bindle angrily. Mr. Gupperduck is. A sort of prayer-og in trousers judging from his talk, interrupted Bindle.

Me and him ain't going to fall out, though you did give him an extra dose of gravy. At the same time, we ain't going to fall in love with. with each other if he pays his rent and behaves quiet like then i haven't nothing to say for what's an ome without a lodger but it's got to be ann's arf my missus 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 and em start giving each other the glad

I, then I'm hurt in my private feelings. And when I'm hurt in my private feelings, I'm hot stuff. And he winked gravely at the text on the kitchen wall containing some home truths for the transgressor. End of Chapter 1 of Adventures of Bindle, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, shaggybark.blogspot.com. Chapter 2 of Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Liber Voxford recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 2. A Downing Street Sensation. Me, ride eight miles on an horse! exclaimed Bindle, looking up at the foreman in surprise.

And who's a common to hold me on? Bindle stood in the yard of Monsieur's impsum and Daly, cartage contractors, regarding a pair of burly cart horses, ready harness, with the traces thrown over their backs. The foreman explained in the idiom adopted by foreman that orders his orders. You can ride on top, run beside or hang on behind, but you got to be at Merton at 12 o'clock, he said. We just add a telephone message that a van stranded this side of Merton, horses broken down, and you and Tippett have got to take these ear and deliver the goods. Then take the van where you're told and bring back them ruddy horses here and 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. What part do you sit on, old son? he inquired of Tippett, a pale, weedy youth, with a thin, dark mustache that curled into the corners of his mouth. Tippett's main characteristic was that he always had a cigarette either stuck to his lip or behind his ear, sometimes both. "'On his tail!' replied Tippett, laconically, his cigarette wagging up and down as he spoke.

"'Sit on his what?' cried Bindle, walking round to the stern of his animal and examining the tail with great attention. "'Sit on his what?' "'On his tail,' repeated Tindle. Tippett without manifesting any interest in the conversation. Right back on his arches, he added by way of explanation. More comfortable. Oh, said Bindle relieved.

I see. Pity you can't say what you mean, Tippy, ain't it. Personally, myself, I'd sooner sit well up so as I could put me arms around his neck. Hi, Spuddy, he called to an unprepossessing stable hand. Bring a ladder. Uh what? inquired Spotty Dully. "'A ladder,' explained Bindle.

"'I got to mount this ear derby winner.' Spottie 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 realizing that there was nothing else to be done, he acquiesced. "'Lady on, old sport,' he counseled Spottie. "'Don't you chuck me clean over the other side?'

With a dexterous heave, Spottie landed him well upon the animal's back. Bindle calmly proceeded to throw one leg over, sitting astride. "'Not that way,' said Tippett. "'Both legs on the near side.' "'You can ride your nag what way you like, Tippy,' said Bindle. "'But as for me, I likes to have a leg on each side. "'How the hell am I going to hold on,

if i sit like a blooming lady my god he exclaimed passing his hand along the backbone of the animal if i don't have a cushion i shall wear through in two licks dear spotty give us a cloth of some sort then you can back me as a two to one chance tippet 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 brompton road an urchin gave bindle's horse a flick on the flank with a stick sending it into a ponderous trot amidst the jangling clatter of harness bindle clutched wildly at the collar here stop him somebody hold him he yelled i touched the wrong button whoa steady woe iron he shouted then turning his head to one side he called out "'Tippy, Tippy, where the hell is the break? "'For God's sake, stop him before he shakes me into a jelly.' "'Tippet's animal jangled up beside that on which Bindle was mounted, "'and both once more fell back into the ponderous slope at which they had started.

"'With great caution, Bindle raised himself into an upright position. "'I wonder what made him do a thing like that,' he said reproachfully. "'Brews me all over, he has. "'I shan't be able to sit down for a month. "'Ear! Stop him, Tippy! I'm getting orf!' Tippett stretched out his hand and brought both horses to a standstill. Vindle slipped ungracefully over his animal's tail. "'You can have him, Tippy, old sport. I'm going to walk,' he announced.

"'When I get tired of walking, I'll get on a bus. I'll meet you at Wimbledon Common.' And Tippett, 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 and learn,' mumbled Bindle to himself. "'I don't care what a jockey gets, but he earns it every penny. Pancy and orse being as ard as that.

"'Catch you up presently, Tippy,' he cried. "'Mind you don't fall off!' And Bindle turned into the dragon hounds. "'For something to take the bruises out,' as he expressed it to himself. "'Catch me a riding of an orse again without an air-cushing,' he muttered. as he came out of the public bar wiping his mouth he hailed a westbound bus and climbing on the top and lighting his pipe proceeded to enjoy the morning sunshine when tippet reached the extreme end of wimbledon common bindle rose from the grass by the roadside where he had been leisurely smoking and enjoying the warrant add quite a pleasant little snooze tippy he yawned as he stretched his arms behind his head wonder who first thought of riding on an orse's back he yawned as for me i'd just as soon ride on an and saw

they jogged along in the direction of merton bindle walking beside the horses tippet's silent and apathetic his cigarette still attached to his lower lip you ain't what i should call a chatty cove tippy remarked bindle conversationally but then, he added. That has its points. If you don't open your mouth, no woman can't say you ever asked her to marry you, can she? Married, mate, Tippett vouchsafed the information without expression or interest. Vindle stood still and looked at him. Tippet 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 and dumb and blind. Poor old Tippy, no wonder he looks like. Well, I'm damned. Remarked, wonder he looks like that just outside merton they came upon a stranded pantecnicon drawn up in front of it was a motor-car containing two ladies this the little lot inquired bindle as they pulled up beside the vehicle which bore the name of john smith and company merton are you from empson and dailies inquired the elder of the two ladies a sallow-faced angular woman with ponsnay that's us mum responded bindle i suppose those of the holly's at the hoarse at the hoarse at the hoarse

"'Houses,' remarked the same lady, indicating the animals with an inclination of her head. "'You ain't got much to learn in a way of guessing, Mum,' was Bindle's cheery response. The lady eyed him disapprovingly. Her companion at the wheel smiled. She was younger. Vindle winked at her, but she froze instantly. "'The horses that were in this van were taken ill,' said the lady. "'What, both together, Mum?' exclaimed Bindle. "'Yes,' replied the lady, looking at him sharply. been twins or quenches footnote conscientious objectors to military service end of footnote was bindle's exclamation of the phenomenon

if one of ginger's twins as the measles shore as eggs the other'll get em on the next day that's what makes ginger so ratty bindle walked up to the van and examined it as if to assure himself that it was in no way defective and where are we to take it mum he inquired to mr luell and john a number one ten downing street wasda's reply bindle whistled he ain't moving is he mum the van contains a presentation of carved oak dining-room furniture she added and very nice too was bindall'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 hadn't we better take the key now mum bindle inquired 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 horses in which end do you begin on tippet and bindle silently busied themselves in harnessing the horses to the pantecnicon now you won't make any mistakes said the lady when everything was completed number one ten downy street mr lowell and john there ain't going to be no mistakes mum you may put your end on your art bindle assured her coffee money mum inquired tippet it's aught tippet never wasted words tippy tippy i'm surprised at you bendell turned upon his colleague reproachfully only twice of you spoke to-day and the second time's to beg i'm sorry to-you i'm sorry to-you i'm sorry to-you and-repped you-a-law's and the second time's to beg. Oh, I'm sorry, Mum, he said, turning to the lady.

It ain't his fault, it's just abbot. The lady hesitated for a moment. Then taking her purse from her bag, handed Bindle a two-shilling piece. Tippett 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 how a woman'll give a couple a bob, where a man'll make it a half a dollar, he remarked.

"'What about me?' inquired Tippett. "'What about you, Tippy?' repeated Bindle. "'Well, least said soon as nended, you can't help it.' "'But I asked her,' persisted Tibbitt. "'Ah, Tippy,' remarked Vindle, "'it ain't in what asks but in what gets. "'However, you shall have a stone ginger at the next stop in place. "'Your old pal ain't going back on you, Tippy.'

"'Without a word, Tippet climbed up into the driver's seat, "'wilts Bindle clambered on to the tailboard, 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 like 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. and slack it like a cuthbert, he would say.

All you got to do is sit on the tail of a van and 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 Pantecnacon, 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. up little lot that mate remarked the man stepping off the curb and walking beside the tail-board bindle looked at him puzzled at the remark what actually might to be meaning old son he inquired oh come orfit said the man i won't tell your missus 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 what's caught me on the blind side he remarked casually a joke remarked the man a whole van load of jokes a few was to ask me well perhaps you're right remarked bindle philosophically but if there's as many as all that i should have thought there'd have been enough for two but as i say perhaps you're right these ain't the times for giving anything away although he added meditatively i adn't e'ert of their having rationed jokes as well as meat and sugar we shall be a v'n jockews soon he added you seem to be a sort o jocog you do bindle turned and regarded his companion with interest you mean to say that you don't know what's inside that there van inquired the man incredulously car dote dine-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 of gals he demanded full o what 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 and 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 orus!' he cried happily. "'What did Mrs. B say if she knew?' Suddenly he paused again and slapped his knee. "'Well, I'm damned!' he cried. "'Araid, of course!'

The man looked anxiously up at the blue of the sky. "'It's all right,' said Bindle reassuringly. "'Maw mistake, it was a bird.' A few minutes later the man turned off from the main road. "'Oi, Tippy!' Bindle hailed. "'Don't you forget that stone-bris! ginger at the next dairy. A muttered reply came from Tippett. Five minutes later he drew up outside a public house on the outskirts of Wimbledon. Vindle 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-rolls!' he muttered, with keen satisfaction. "'Aerole's is I'm a miserable sinner!' And he clambered down and entered the public bar where he convinced Tippett that his mate should be trusted with money. When Bindle had drained the last drop of his second pewter, his mind was made up. Number one, ten Downing Street, he muttered, white dresses and colored sashes. That's it. Well, Joe Bindle, you can't save the Blooming British Empire from destruction, but you can save the prime minister from having his afternoon nap spoilt, leastwise you can try. I'm going for a little stroll, Tippy, he remarked as he walked

towards the door back in ten minutes if you get lonely order another point and put it down to me what oh mate replied tippet bindle walked along wimbledon high street and turned into an oil shop do you keep lamp black he inquired of the young woman behind the counter yes she replied how much do you want we sell it in packets let's have a look at a packet said bendell when he had examined it he ordered two more dark'n a minstrel troop he confided to the young woman but you want burnt cork she said practically lamb-black's greasy you'll never get it off that's just 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-crowned he tendered by ringing it on the counter shouldn't be surprised if we was to have an evy shower of rain in a few minutes remarked bindle loudly a few minutes later as he rejoined tippet who was engaged in watering the horses tippet looked at bendell his cigarette wagging then turning his eyes up to the cloudless sky in surprise he finally reached the same conclusion as the young woman in the oil shop now up you get tippy admonished bindle and there's another drink for you at the green lion bindle knew his london as the panteknon crumpled heavily along by the side of wimbledon common bindle whistled softly to himself the refrain of the end of a happy day whilst tippet was enjoying his fourth pint that morning at the green lion bindle borrowed a large watering-gam which was handed up to him on the roof of the pan tecicon by a surprised barman bindle emptied the contents of one of the packets of lamp-blank

into the can and started to stir it vigorously with a piece of twig he had picked up from the side of the carman when the water had reluctantly absorbed the lamp-black to bindle's entire satisfaction he called out loudly oh i knew he was going to have a shower and he proceeded to water the top of the pantecna con now i must put this ere tarpaulin over or else the water'll get through them olds 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 center. The barman of the Green Lion had been watching Bindle with open-mouthed astonishment. What hell 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 Tippett's tankered, reaffirmed. filled 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 what I was a-doing on the top of that their van, and again he winked. The barman looked from Bindle to tip it, 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 in the packet, then inserted 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 King's Road into Ebery Street, Vindle's task was accomplished. The lamp-black was exhausted. "'Victoria Station!' he called out loudly to tip it.

"'Shant be long now, mate. Another shower a-comin. Better cover up these bloomin'-olds.' And he drew the tarpaulin over the rest of the roof. "'Let him stew a bit now,' he mumbled to himself. "'That'll make them aught.' 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 Mendel and handed him a key.

"'This is the key of the Pentechnicon,' she said loudly. "'You are not to undo it until you reach No. 110 Downing Street. Do you understand?' "'What, oh,' remarked Vindle. "'I got it.' "'Now don't forget,' said the lady, and she disappeared swiftly in the direction of Victoria Street. "'No, I ain't going to forget,' murmured Ben, mindle to himself and i shouldn't be surprised if there was others what ain't going 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 asking the way sir i'm most likely being watched

i got a van what's supposed to contain carved oak furniture for mr llewellyn john one-ten downing street i think it's full of suffragettes goin to raid him 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'all 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 strove leisurely through the archway leading to the foreign office that's downing street on the left shouted bindle to tippet as he came up much to tippet surprised he was at a loss to account for many things that bindle had done and said that day as they turned into downing street Street, Bindle was a little disappointed at finding only two constables, but he was relieved, 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 Tippet, taking no notice of Bindle.

Tippet jerked his thumb in the direction of Bindle, who came forward at that moment. Number one ten Downing Street, sir, responded Bindle. Some furniture from Mr. Llewell and John. "'Right,' said the inspector loudly. "'But you'll off to wait a few minutes until the motor-car is gone.' Bindle winked as a sign of his acceptance of the mythical motor-car, and drawing the key of the Pentechicon from his pocket, showed it to the inspector, who by closing his eyes and slightly bending his head indicated that he understood. Tippett had decided that everybody was mad this morning.

The police inspector's reference to a motor-car outside No. 1.10, 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 band to a given spot. There his responsibility ended. After a wait of nearly ten minutes, the inspector reappeared. It's all clear now, he remarked. Draw up! As the Pantecicon pulled up in front of number one ten, 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 clothesmen loitering about. Now then, Tippy, get ready to lend me an hand, with this. ear furniture called out Bindle as he proceeded to insert the key in the padlock that fastened the doors of the van. Tippet, who had climbed down, was standing close to the tailboard, 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 Pantecnacon 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, Tippett, 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 the sleeves, sat down with a suddenness that caused his teeth to rattle and his cigarette to fall from his lower lip. Synchronizing with the opening of the doors of the Pantecicon 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 White Hall 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 Tippett. All eyes were fixed upon the human avalanche that was pouring from the inside of the Pantecnacon. 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, 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 a 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 Pantecnacon had produced the necessary moisture upon the fair faces, and with this the lamp black had formed an unhastrales. Holy Alliance. Hats were awry, hair was disheveled, 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. Woltz Tippett, 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 Vindle'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. Llewell and 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,

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 handbag. 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. "'Christty minstrels, ain't they?' inquired one youth of another with ponderous humor. It was at that 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. "'Sope for women is what they want. "'Fancy coming out like that, even in wartime,' commented another. how'd they get like that inquired a third 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 god himself 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 town. 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 maneuver 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 con. 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 was 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 his hysterics. She sat down suddenly giving vent to shriek after shriek and beating a tattoo at 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 taxi cabs and conductorettes of omnibuses. None would accept such fares. It'd take a month to clean my blooming cab after you've been in it, shouted one

mandorissively. What you want to get yourself in such a dirty mess for? Go 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 wartime, 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 wiltz 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 wimbled

were astonished to see entering the train forlorn and disheveled 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 one ten with a jerk of his thumb was that your doing inquired the inspector inspector. Well, replied Bindle, it was and it wasn't, and he explained how it had all come about. And what am I going to do with this here van, he queried? Better run it round to the yard, then you can take home the horses, replied the inspector. Right how, 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. Hello, Tippy, he cried, knocked you down, didn't they? Tippett grinned. He had thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment and bore no malice. "'That's why you got the watch-in-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 Tippet 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, Ben, you've done us a great service. If at any time I can help you, let me know. Now I wonder what he meant by that, murmured Bindle to himself. Does it mean that I can have a little flutter at bigamy, or that I can break Ardy's Blumen Ed and not get pinched for it? Still, he remarked cheerfully, it's been an happy day, a very happy day, and he turned in at the feathers and ordered something to wet this,

ear cigar. End of chapter two, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, shaggybark.blogspot.com. Chapter 3 of The Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 3. The Air Raid. 1. There wasn't no omelife in England until the Kaiser started a-dropping bombs in people's backyards, remarked Bindle oracularly. Funny thing, he continued, how everybody seemed to find out how fond they was of

setting at home because they was afraid of going out. Mr. Hardy 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. Hardy and the leaders of the Alton Road Chapel. He was a constant visitor at the Harties, especially at meal times, and at the chapel he prayed with great fervor, beating all records as far as endurance was concerned. I don't agree with you, remarked Mr. Gupper Duck at length. I do not agree with you. The scriptures say, every man to his family. Mr. Hardy looked gratefully at his guest. It was pleasant to find Vindle controverted.

You know, Alf, you know. ever been so much at home weezed mrs hardy hitting her chest remorselessly you never do go out on moonlight nights you trust him said bendell orty and the moon ain't never out together we're told to take cover said mr hardy with dignity and what about us poor fellers what has to be out in it all demanded bendell looking down at his special constables uniform you should commend yourself to god said mr gupper piously. He that puteth his trust in him shall not be afraid. Ain't you afraid when there's a radon? demanded Bindle. I have no fear of earthly things, replied Mr. Gupperduck, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He's all gupper duck and camouflage, ain't he, 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 what say they ain't afraid. You ask the boys back from France. You don't hear them a saying they ain't afraid. They knows too much for that. There's one above who watches over us all, Joseph, said Mr. Harty, 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 shall we feel afraid? Well, well, remarked Bindle with resignation, you an ordy beat me when it comes to pluck when i'm out with all them guns a-going and bombs a-dropping about i'd sooner be somewhere else and i ain't a-goin to say different perhaps it's because i'm an eathen the hour of repentance should not be deferred said mr gupparduck it is not too late even now it's no good said bendell decisively i should never be able to feel as brave as what you are when there's a radon oh ye of little faith murmured mr guppard

her duck mournfully think of daniel in the lion's den said mrs bindle and jona in the interior of the whale added mr hardy with great delicacy now remarked binbill 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 milly hardy loyally she had been a silent listener and mother isn't either are you mums she turned to mrs hardy it's my breath responded mrs hardy patting her ample bosom it gets me here that's because you don't go to chapel martha said bindle if you ought to turn up there three times on sundays you'd be as brave as what mr gupparduck is ain't that so he inquired 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 just where you're wrong mrs b'i remarked bindle settling himself down for a controversy i ain't got nothing to say against the chapel if they only let you set quiet but it's such an up-and-down sort o life when you ain't kneeling down asking to be saved from what you know you deserves or kept from doing what you're nuts on doin you're standing up a singing hymns about all sorts of uncomfortable things what you says you hopes to find in heaven you have a jaundiced view of religion mr bindle said mr gupper duck ponderously a jaundiced view he repeated pleased with the phrase ev i really remarked vindle anxiously i hope it ain't catching no he continued meditatively i wasn't meant for chapels i seem to be able to think best about ev'n when i'm set in smoking after supper with mrs b banging at the stove to remind me that i ain't there yet what does me he continued is that i never yet say any of your chapel coves appier for all your singing and praying why is it look at you three now if you was going to be plucked and trust to-morrow you couldn't look more fidgety

instinctively each of the three looked at the other two mr gupparduck shook his head hopelessly you don't understand joseph murmured mr hardy with mournful resignation i can understand ruddy bill gettin drunk bendell continued because e do look appy when he's got a skinful but i can't understand you a wantin to pray arty i really can't i only once see a lot of religious people appy and that was when they got drunk by mistake lord didn't they teach me an old ugly things he blushes like a gal when i mentions it uggles is a nice mind he has well i must be goin artie in case demmonds come over to-night you ought to be a special arty there's some rare fine gals in putneyil do you think there'll be an air-raid to-night asked mr gupperduck with something more than casual interest in his voice maybe said vendel casually maybe not funny things air-rays they've changed a rare lot of things he remarked meditatively. Once we used to want the moon to come out, sort of made us think of gals and setting on styles. Mrs. B. was a rare one for moons and styles, 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 and set on a style of a girl's hand, not

him. When his job's done, he starts arp for home like giddyo, and you don't see his nose again until the next morning. Bindle paused to wink at Mr. Hardy. If there's any gal now, he continued, what wants her and eld on moonlight nights, she'll have to hold it herself 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 dryly as he rose and picked up his peaked cap, is the signal for you and Ordy to put your trust in God. In other words, he added, It's a gun in what Fulham calls the Barker. Bindle looked from Mr. Harty, leaden-hued with fright, to Mr. Gupperduck, whose teeth were chattering, on to Mrs. Bindle, who was white to the lips. Will I must be orf, he said, adjusting his cap upon his head at a rakish angle. If I don't come back mrs bie you'll be a widow and widows are wonderful things cheer o all bindle turned and left the room his niece milly 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 wilted over all brooded the great queen of the heavens, bathing in her white piece the red war of pygmies. Two. Two hours later, Bindle's ring at the hearty's 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, have you? inquired Bindle solicitously. A soldier's wife isn't afraid, Uncle Joe, she replied bravely. Millie's sweetheart. Millie's sweetheart. Charlie Dixon was at the front. "'Moy, ain't we getting a woman, Millikins?' cried Bindle, putting his arm affectionately around her shoulders and kissing her cheek loudly. "'Everybody all right?' he inquired. "'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 wondered—' "'Well, well,' interrupted Bindle. "'We ain't going to be down-hearted, are we? It's over now. You'll hear the all-clear in a few minutes. Bindle walked into the Hardy's parlor where Mrs. Hardy was seated on the sofa half asleep. "'Allo, Martha!' he cried. "'A-jo!' 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. "'Allo, what's happened to them three little cherubs?' he inquired.

Mrs. Hardy began to shake and wheeze with laughter, and Millie stood looking at Bindle. "'What's happened, Millikins?' he inquired. "'Don a bunk have they?' "'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. Vindle slapped his leg with keen enjoyment.

"'Well, I'm blowed,' he cried. "'If that ain't rich. Three people what was talking about putting their trust in God are going into that little funk-o. Well, I'm blowed. Don't laugh, Uncle Joe, began Millie. I, she broke off, unable to express what was in her mind. Don't you worry, Melicans, he replied as he moved towards the door.

I'd better go and tell him that it's all right. Mr. Hardy's potato cellar was reached through a trap-door flush with the door 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 seven pounds. 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 onto the top of the box.

Suddenly he let the scales and weights fall with a tremendous crash full in the center of the trap-door, at the same time giving vent to a shout. Millie came running in from the parlor. "'Oh, Uncle Joe, what has happened?' she cried. "'Are you hurt?' "'It's all right, Milliken's. "'Knocked over these ear scales, I did.

"'Ain't I clumsy. "'Ush!' "'Mones and cries could be distinctly heard from below. "'Ear helped me gather them up, Millicons. "'I hope I haven'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. "'Ear come along, Artie. "'What do you two mean by taking my missus down into a a cellar like that." "'Is it gone?' quavered a voice that Bindle assumed must be that of Mr. Gupperduck. "'Is what gone?' he inquired.

"'The bomb!' whispered the voice. "'Oh, come up, Gupperduck,' said Bindle. "'Don't play the giddy goat in the potato cellar. What about you putting your trust in God?' 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. Harty, literally yellow with terror. "'What have you done with my missus?' demanded Bindle. "'She, she's down there,' stuttered Mr. Gupperduck. "'Then you two jolly well go down and fetch her up or I'll kick you down,' cried Bindle angrily. "'Nice sort of sports you are, leaving a woman alone in an old like that after taking her down there.' Mr. Hardy 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. Hardy 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. "'Eer Milliken's 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 hardy her hands were chafed water dabbed upon her forehead and a piece of brown paper burned under her nose by mrs hardy she had not lost consciousness but stared about her in a vague half-dazed fashion mr hardy and mr gupparduck who had retrieved his false teeth seemed thoroughly ashamed of themselves yet was mr harty 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 gupparduck straightened himself mr hardy seemed to revive and from mrs bindle's eyes fled the expression of fear well i must be orf said bindle look after my missus arty you come along mr g he inquired of mr gupparduck as followed by milly he left the room it was sweet of you not to laugh at them uncle joe said milly as they stood at the door waiting for mr gupper duck nobody didn't aught to mind saying they're afraid millikins said bindle looking at the serious face before

him but i don't like a cove what says he's brave and then turns out to have about as much art as a shilling rabbit come along mr g good night millikins my dear are we down-hearted no and bindle went out into the night followed by a meek and chastened mr gupperduck end of chapter three read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark dot blogspot dot com chapter four of the adventures of bindle by herbert jenkins this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins chapter four the duplication of mr harty 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'n ain't able to see me enjoying myself but what she thinks i'm being rude to god 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 artie 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 god made me and god made arty but in one of us he made a bloomer if i'm right arty's wrong if arty's right i'm wrong if they avee and evin they won't want arty and if arty gets in well they won't look at me mrs bindle proceeded to gather up the plates thank you for that stew 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 somehow he said at length i don't think i should like to thank god for stewed steak and 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 to the stove. Bindle looked up with interested inquiry on his features. "'There's an apple pudding,' continued Mrs. Bindle. Bindle pocketed his pipe with a happy expression on his features.

"'Lizzy?' he said. "'Oh, could you treat me like this?' "'What's the matter now?' demanded Mrs. Bindle. "'An apple pudding are waiting to be eaten, and you let me waste time of talking about Arty'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-going to charge that their damn up against you. You're too nervous about the devil you are. Vindle struck a match and sucked at his pipe. He's going to open another shop, said Mrs. Bindle. Oh, the devil? inquired Bindle in surprise. It's going to be in Putney High Street, continued Mrs. Bindle, ignoring Bindle's remark. Vindle looked up at her with genuine puzzlement on his features. Boughtney High Street used to be a pretty odd place at night.

before the war, he remarked. It ain't exactly cool now, but I never thought of the devil opening a shop there. I said Mr. Hartie, retorted Mrs. Bindle angrily. Oh, Artie, said Bindle contemptuously. Artie'd open anything except his art or a barrel of apples he's selling known him to be rotten. What's he want to open another shop for? He's got two already, ain't he? Why haven't you got on? Stormed Mrs. Bindle, inconsequently. Why haven't you got three shops well continued bindle i might have done so but what should i sell in em you never got on you lorced every job you ever got you'd have lorced 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 what's lorced mrs b you're one of them what's found like the little lamb that old woe and whiskers talked about when i went to chapel with you that night so long the news about mr harty's third venture in the green grocery trade occupied bindle's mind to the exclusion of all else as he walked in the direction of chelsey to call upon dr richard little whom he had met in connection with the temperance fate 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 a dick little at home and with him his brother tom and guggers now a captain in the gordon's hullo here's j b gug gug good cried guggers hurling his fourteen stone towards the diminutive visitor lest of it ain't old spittin speaking 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 gee without a preliminary guggg had taken a prominent part in the oxford rag when bindle posed as the million-year to pronounce a g g greg had taken a prominent part in the oxford rag when bindle posed as the million their uncle of an unpopular undergraduate. Bindle had christened him spit and speak, owing to Gutter'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 happy, sir,' he said to Dick Little. "'And although the M says ere we suffer grief and woe, I don't say we got to suffer grief and

woe and orty altogether.' "'What's up, J.B?' inquired Dick Little. Well, if the truce got to be told, sir, I got Artie in the throat. That what? inquired Tom Little, grinning. Artie, my brother-in-law, Artie, I had him thrust down my throat tonight with stewed steak and onions and apple pudding. The stewed steak and the pudding slipped down all right, but Artie stuck. What's he been up to now? inquired Dick Little. He's going to open another shop in Putney Eye Street. That's number three. Artie, with two shops, give me L. But with three shops,

it'll be ellen blazes. Gugggave you hell, interrogated Guggers. Mrs. Bessie, explained Bindle iconically. Then after a pause, he added, No matter what's wrong at home, if the pipes burst through frost or the butcher's late with the meat,

or if it's a six-penny milkman instead of a five-penny-milk-man, Mrs. B always seems to think it's through me not being like Artie, as if any man would be like Artie what could be like something else, even if it was a conchie. No, continued Ben-Mill. some thing's got to be done that's why i come round this evening can't we gugg g g greg get up a rag inquired guggers if i g g g g g 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 meditativelybill furiously it was bindle who broke the silence you may think i got a down on artie sir he said addressing dick little well perhaps i have but evan sometimes a little late

and punishing people, and I ain't above Linden and And. Artie's afraid of me, because he's afraid of what I might say, knowing what 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, good, great Scott, cried Guggers, we will. 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 om in the west the success of mr harty's third shop was assured that is its advertisement was assured it'll cost an hell of a lot of money said bindle doubtfully as he rose to go g g gugger's cried guggers whose income was an affair of five figures for a rag like that i g g g g g g g giv my my not your trousers sir interrupted Bindle, gazing down at Gugger's brawny knees.

Remember, you going into short clothes. Wouldn't do for me to go about like that, he added. Me with my various veins. And Bindle left Dick Littles flat, rich in the knowledge he possessed of coming events. Two, Anyhow, 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. Anyhow, Artie'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 shining, people coming out, wanting to buy vegetables, yet I'll bet my whistle to his old stock that already ain't happy. We're not here to be happy, snapped Mrs. Bindle. It ain't always easy to see why some of us is here,

all, remarked Vindel, as he gave his cap a further twist over to the right in an endeavor 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 do you mean to tell me that God made artis specially to sell vegetables in with a face like that?' questioned Bindle. Mrs. Bindle's reply was in bangs. Sometimes Bindle's literalness was disconcerting. "'Did God make me to move furniture?' he persisted. "'No, Mrs. B,' he continued, "'it's more than likely that God just puts us down here

and lets us sort ourselves out. "'Eem up there a-watching to see how we does it.' "'You're a child of Mollick, Joseph Bindle,' said Mrs. Bindle. "'A child of what luck?' inquired Bindle. "'Who's E?' "'Oh, go along with you. Don't bother me. I'm busy,' cried Mrs. Bindle. "'I promised Mr. Hartie I'd be round at two o'clock.' "'Now, ain't that just like a woman?' complained Bindle to a fly

catcher hanging from the gas bracket. Ain't that just like a woman? If you're too busy to tell me why I'm a child of old what o'clock, why ain't you too busy to tell me that I'm a child of old what o'clock? And with this profound inquiry, 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 here don't pinch Artie's veges! Ten minutes later, Bindle stood in front of Mr. Hardy'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 Orty do do the thing in style. If only his art wasn't what it is, and if his face was

what it might be, he'd make a damn fine brother-in-law. At that moment Mr. Harty 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. cheerio artie cried bindle mr harty started and looked around the three errand boys and the two women looked round also and fixed their gaze on bindle mr harty devoted himself more assiduously to his customer pretending not to have heard i'll run in about six artie and have a look round continued bindle i'm on duty 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 hardy's new shop was without doubt the best of the three a study in green paint and brasswork 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 veg vegetables. Everything was ticketed in plain figures, figures that were the envy and despair of other Putney Greengrocers. It was Mr. Harty'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. Hardy's new shop. He, according to her a salute that would have warmed the heart of a chief commissioner of the police. Meanwhile, Mr. Harty was gazing lovingly at the curved double brass rail that adorned his window, looking like a harvest festival decoration. Mr. Hardy believed in appearances. He would buy persimmons, leachies, breadfruit, 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 persimines and leachies

were impressed because Mr. Hardy 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. Harty was a damn good greengrocer. Mr. Hardy was interrupted in his contemplation of the fruity splendor 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 turned-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. Harty gazed at the man, his eyes dilated in astonishment. He stared at the stranger's sunken, sallow cheek, at his heavy moustache, at his mutton-chop whiskers. The man was his double, features, expression, clothes. All were the same. "'Allo, Artie! Put me down for a cockernut and an onion!' Bindle, who had entered at the moment, dug the stranger in the ribs from behind. He

turned round upon his assailant. Then Bindle saw Mr. Harty 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 harty 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 harty Bindle fumbled in the breast pocket of his tunic and produced a box of matches. Going up to Mr. Hardy, he struck a match. Mr. Hardy started back as of doubtful of his intentions. Vindle proceeded to examine Mr. Hardy'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 Artis!' "'I want the cauliflower, please.' It was the stranger who spoke. bindle once more proceeded to regard the stranger critically i suppose 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 in appearance he was a replica of the first mr hardy looked as a manmite 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 hardy's right-hand man thrust his head through the flap in the door 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 harty entered he was followed almost immediately by a fourth and fifth each greeted bindle with a good afternoon joseph just as the sixth mr harty 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 him up cruel 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 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 wanted an indistinct sound was heard and a minute later mrs hardy 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 hardy in the alibis seven of em you're a bigamust sure as eggs martha and milly ain't never going to be an orphan as she became accustomed to the the glare of the sunlight, Mrs. Hardy 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. Hardy laugh, sometimes nothing at all. Now she sat down suddenly on a sack of potatoes and heaved and shook with silent laughter. Suddenly Mr. Hardy became galvanized into action. "'How dare you?' he fumed. Get out of my shop, confound you.' "'Rty, artie,' protested Vindle. Fancy you a-usin-language. like that. I'm surprised at you." Mr. Hardy looked about him like a caged animal, and suddenly he turned to Bindle. "'Joseph,' he cried, "'I give these men in charge.' The men regarded Mr. Hardy with melancholy unconcern.

"'Give him in charge,' repeated Bindle in surprise. "'What for?' "'They're like me,' stammered Mr. Hardy 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 coven for being like you artie although he added as an afterthought he ought to be in quad it's a scandal stuttered mr hardy it's a uh 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 ere sonny's remarked bindle turning to the passive six op it although he added meditatively as he added meditatively as he added meditatively as he said eyed the six duplicates.

What I'm to do with you if you won't go? Only Evan knows, and Evan 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. Hardy, turning into Bindle as the last black-coated figure left the shop.

What is the meaning of this? You may search me, Artie, replied Bindle. I should have called them twins, if there hadn't been so many. Sort of litter, wasn't it? "'Oh, they're all respectable, or they'll be trouble for you, Artie. You'd better wear a bit of ribbon round your arm, so as we shall know you.' "'Bindle, you're at the bottom of this.' Mrs. Bindle had come out of the back parlor, 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 what? "'You know something about these men? It's a shame. And this Mr. Harty's first day. Look how it's upset him. now how do you think i could make six alibis like them vindal'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 harty'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 harlick a crowd was all

gathering. Mr. Hardy 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. End of Chapter 4, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, shaggybark.orgspot.com. Chapter 5 of the Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins

Chapter 5 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. Hardy 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. Hardy 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 him.

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 he 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. Harty 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. Hardy's shop. "'That's him,' cried one. "'That's Napoleon.' "'No, d'Int,' said another. "'That's Caesar.'

Mechanically, Mr. Hardy waved the boys away. They repeated words that to him were meaningless, and then pointed to the approaching crowd. Mr. Hardy was puzzled and alarmed. "'Look, Governor, there they are!' shouted one of the boys. Instinctively Mr. Harty looked. At first he beheld only the donkeys, the animated fruit, and the approaching crowd. Then he suddenly saw his own name. A motor-obnibus intervened. A moment later the donkeys and their boards came into full view. Mr. Hardy gasped. On their boards were ingenious exhortations to the public to support the enterprise of Alfred Hardy, greengrocer of Putney, Fulham and Wandsworth. Mr. Hardy read as one in a dream.

Alfred Hardy, the Napoleon of Greengrocers. Alfred Hardy, the Caesar of fruiterers. Alfred Hardy, the Prince of Potato Merchants. Harty's two-shilling pineapple, try it in your bath. Harty's Jerusalem artichokes. General Allenby eats them. The Germans fight for Hardy's Brussels sprouts. As the six animals filed past, Mr. Hardy was conscious that hundreds of eyes were gazing in his direction. He read one sign after another

as if hypnotized. Then he read them again. Scarcely had the donkeys past 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. Hardy, 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 housewise of Putney ran. Eat Hardie's Philberts, O Gilbert, the nut, Nut crackers with every bag.

Hardy's French beans, saved Verdun. Try Hardy's juicy cabbages. They cure baldness. The food controller recommends carrots. Try Hartys. I have. Alfred Hardy, known as Pineapple Alf. If you don't buy your vegetables from Alfred Hardy, you will be what I am.

The last named was particularly appreciated. everybody being able to see the joke in thinking that no one else had been so clever each took infinite pains to point it out to his neighbour at first mr harty went very white then realizing 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 inquiring 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 the 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 watermelon, through which appeared the head of the driver, shaded by leaves, a double stock concealing his legs. From the shelter of the double brass rail, Mr. Hardy 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, Wilts from the gloom behind, Mrs. Harty 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 Hardy first saw read, "'I've got the hump through not buying Hardy's vegetables!' As the beast swung round the other motto presented itself. "'Eat Hardy's leaks! They defy the plumber!' Cheers, catcalls, loud whistling, 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'd 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. Hardy stood, a shadowy form behind his double brass rail. Bindle recognized the tune the band was playing as that of Mr. Hardy's favorite 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 here, Artie,' he said in his most official manner. "'This may be all very well in the way of business, "'but you're blocking the old Blooming Oye Street.' "'Mr. Hardy gazed at Bindle with unseeing eyes. "'These bands yours, too, Artie?' Bindle inquired. "'Mr. Hardy shook his head in hopeless negation. "'Nothing was his, not even the power to move and route "'this scandalous zoological botanical exhibition.'

"'Well, what are they a-playing-ims for?' demanded Bindle. "'Hims,' inquired Mr. Harty in a toneless voice. "'Yes, can't you hear him?' Bindle gazed at his brother-in-law curiously. "'Enough to blow your red 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, "'Harty 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 mustache. 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. Harty he entered, a moment followed by his eleven confrers. For a moment Mr. Hardy stared, then he retreated backwards before the avalanche of musicians. "'What do you want?' he demanded feebly. "'This way upstairs,

governor?' inquired the tall man. "'Upstairs?' interrogated Mr. Hardy. "'Yes, upstairs, like me to say it again?' queried the man who was tired and short-tempered. "'But what?' began Mr. Hardy. "'Oh, go and roast yourself,' responded the man. come along boys and they tramped through the back parlor mr harty 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 recognized that he had met his waterloo yawai charlie he yelled hullo that you ted came the reply from above ruddy drum stuck yelled the drummer equally hot and exasperated what bawled charlie ruddy drum won't go up cried ted all right you stay down there you can hear us and keep time was the response the drummer subsided on to a sack of potatoes mr hardy 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 oh the blink and buttercups said we was he demanded but what are you doing here persisted mr hardy

oh responded the man with elaborate civility we come to play forfeits what you 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 hardy 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 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. Hardy. Bindle joined the inspector, saluting him elaborately. The inspector eyed Mr. Hardy with official disapproval. You must send these men away, sir, he said with decision. But, but, said Mr. Hardy. I can't. But you must, said the inspector. There will be a

summons, of course, he added warningly. But why, protested Mr. Hardy. The inspector looked at Mr. Hardy 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 confounder. row there the man did not hear stop it i say shouted the inspector the drummer stopped what's the matter he inquired 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 what the hell are you stopping for it's the police yelled back ted informatively the cheese bawled back charlie shouldn't eat it it always makes you will go ahead and bang that ruddy drum 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. Hardy 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 her!' And resuming his cornet, Charlie picked up the tune and raced up the stairs again, leaving Ted taking it out of her in a way that more than made up for the time he had lost.

The inspector bit his lip. Turning to Mr. Hardy, he said, "'You will be charged with causing obstruction with all this tomfoolery.' "'But, but it isn't mine,' protested Mr. Hardy weekly. "'I know nothing about it.' "'Nonsense,' said the inspector. "'Look at those animals out there.' Mr. Hardy looked and then looked back at the inspector, who said something,

but Mr. Hardy could only see the movement of his lips. The babble 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 suites 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. Harty to the inspector, and then back to Mr. Harty.

I don't know what it means, he stammered, feeling that something was required of him, but no one heard him. Vendell, who had hitherto been quiet in the presence of his superior officer, now took a hand in matters. Look here, Artie, he shouted, during a lull in the proceedings. Advertisement's advertisement, and very nice, too, but this here's obstruction. Ain't that right, sir? he said, addressing the inspector, but the inspector did not hear him. It was doubtful if Mr. Hardy heard, for,

that moment there had turned into the high street from Wandsworth Bridge Road a double-drumed 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 muster, 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 onto the pavement, and vainly strove to signal to two of his men whose helmets could be seen among the crowd. Mr. Hardy's eyes followed the officer, but soon he became absorbed in other things. From the Wimbledon end of 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 neighborhood 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. Hardy's shop. Glancing in the other direction, Mr. Hardy 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. Hardy he blinked his eyes several times.

"'That 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 onto Mr. Hardy, causing him to start back suddenly. "'Sorry, sir,' said the man apologetically. "'Praid I splashed you. I suppose we go right through and up. Come along, Razor!' he yelled the blast of his bandsman, a thin, weedy youth who was still vainly endeavoring to cut his way through the crowd.

suddenly the little man saw the first drummer banging away vigorously hullo got another little lot inside you don't know eff how to advertise mister he said admiringly this reminded mr hardy that he possessed the voice there is some mistake i have not ordered any band he shouted in the little man's ear what shouted the little man mr hardy repeated his assurance not ordered any band seemed to have 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 anyhow, he added. But I didn't, persisted Mr. Harty. 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 parlor door and was heard thumping upstairs.

You can't get through, shouted Ted to the second drummer, a mournful-looking man with black whiskers. "'What?' he bawled dully. "'Can't get through,' yelled Ted. "'Why!' roared the whiskered man. "'Rotty 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 in the volume of tone increased, showing that Charlie had found expression in his cornet. "'Where's Stryker?' came the cry. "'Stryker!' yelled several voices. "'Hello!' howled Stryker in a muffled voice. "'We're all ready. What the hell are you doing, Stryker?' came the response.

"'Rum won't come up,' bawled Stryker. "'What?' "'Rum won't come up. Too big.' "'Rido, 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. Harty and Mrs. Bindle fled into the parlor.

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 equaled 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 the 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. Vendal, 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. "'An't you better start here. There ain't no room upstairs.' The man gave a comprehensive look around, 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 God, they'll bring the old Bloominghouse down,' he muttered. "'I hope they don't play ems in Evan, them drums.' Mr. Hardy, 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 gibbering

lunatic. A wild cheer from the crowd attracted his attention. He looked out. Pushing their way toward 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. Hardy blinked his eyes. Here indeed was a dream, a nightmare. He saw Bindle with an inspector and a constable turned 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 Bandsman. He saw what looked like a never-ending procession of Bandsman streamed past him. He saw everything. 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. And Mr. Hardy'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 endeavors 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 harty 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 harty end of chapter five read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggy bart dot blogspot dot com chapter six of the adventures of bindle by herbert jenkins this libri-box recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins chapter six mr gupper duck's mishap i've been out all day waiting in queues remarked mrs bindle complainingly but all i got was two candles and a quarter of a pound of Margarine. And which are we going to have for breakfast tomorrow?

inquired 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. What do you want to take a lodger for? demanded Bindle, if you can't get food enough for you and me. Doesn't his money help us pay our way? demanded Mrs. Bindle. Well, what's the good of having more money, Mrs. Bindle?

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 favorite hymn,

Gospel Bells. Look what you done to Mr. Harty that Saturday, cried Mrs. Bindle. Me, said Bindle. cursing himself for reminding her by humming him. Yes, you, was the reply. He had to go to the police court. Well, it's made his fortune, and he got off, replied Bindle.

Yes, but it might have ruined him. You wouldn't have cared it in wartime, too, Mrs. Bindle added. Well, well, the war will 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 are the sole obstacle to the tranquilization of the world. Mrs. Bindle sat down with a decisiveness that characterized all of her movements. "'Sometimes I wish I was dead,' she remarked. "'There's nothing 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 cooking. You're a dab at that, and leave politics to them what understands them. You can't catch a mad dog by putting salt on his tail. I wonder where old guppy is,' he continued, glancing at the kitchen clock, which pointed to half-past nine. It ain't often he lets prey and get in the way of his meals. I hope nothing has happened to him, remarked Mrs. Bindle a little anxiously. No fear of that, replied Bindle regretfully. Things don't happen to men like gupparduck.

Still it's funny him missing a meal, he said. 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. Perhaps he's been took up to Evan like that cove what Artie was talking about the other night,' suggested Bindle. Mrs. Bindle's sniff intimated that she considered such a remark unworthy of her attention. King Richard is his self 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 what only laughs back. Oh, you think so, do you? snapped Mrs. Bindle. "'I was listening to him one afternoon in Regent's Park,' remarked Bindle. "'Silly sort of lot they seem to me.' "'You're nothing but a he than yourself,' accused Mrs. Bindle. "'As long as a cove keeps his religion to himself,

"'I don't see it matters to nobody what he thinks, "'any more than whether he wears blue or pink pants under his trousers.' "'Don't be disgusting, Bindle,' snapped Mrs. Bindle. "'Discustin? What's disgusting?' "'Talking of what you're, talked of replied mrs bindle with a sparity well i'm blowed said bindle there you angs em on the line and 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 of things replied bindle personally myself i think the atheists is the funniest there was one cove there what was very thin and very anxious-looking said he wouldn't insult his intelligence by believing the things what preachers said, so I put a question

to him. What did you say? inquired Mrs. Bindle. I asked him if he was quite sure he had any intelligence to insult, and that made him 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 approved word or action of his. Did he say anything else? queried Mrs. Bindle. Now he soon got down and 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. What God must have 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 home to blow off instead of going into Regents Park, a kicking up a row so as you can't ear the birds

sing. Makes you feel ashamed to being a man it does. One chap got up and said he was going to prove there wasn't no God." "'And what did he say?' asked Mrs. Bindle with interest. All he could say was that him and his friends had searched everywhere through what they called the whole physical world and they hadn't found him, therefore there wasn't no God. "'They didn't ought to allow it,' commented Mrs. Bindle indignantly. Then another coag got up and said he hoped that his friend, what had just got down,

had proved to the whole park that there wasn't no God, and if there was any thinking different, would they hold up their hands? 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. Harty. Well, sir, says he, looking at me, what is your question? Well, says I, will you and your pals come around with me tomorrow morning and try and enlist? There was a rare lot of cacky boys round there, and didn't they raise a yell?

that was the end of that meeting every time anyone tried to get up and speak them khaki boys started a-ooting and a-calling out and having a rare old time there was one cove what made us laugh fit to die every time one of the atheists started talking he said in an eye-pitched voice oh cuthber don't as if it was a gal what was being squeezed mrs bendell had listened to bendell 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 he was too all cap and overcoat talking about the judgment day awful things he promised us he did made out as if god was worse than an un he said he'd be standing beside god when all the people was judged and he'd tell em how he'd been in regent's park a warning people what was goin to happen and no one wouldn't take no notice then we was all goin to be sent into a sort of mixed grill and burnt forever "'Nice, comforting little cove he was. "'Pleasant to live with,' added Bindled Riley. "'Why, religion can't make you happy "'without you a-trying to make other people unhappy

"'as what does me. "'When I got a good cigar, "'I don't go waving it in the face of every cove I meet, "'saying, oh, 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 he'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 been a happier woman if you hadn't been. But, continued Bindle, do you think God wants to have a man in chapel what wants to be at the Empire, only doesn't go because he's afraid? I wouldn't if I was God, he added, shaking his head with decision. Look at Artie's Orse on Saturday night. can't arty drag itself to the stables it can't yet artie's as sure of evan as i am of you mrs bindle was silent her manner was distraight she was listening for the sound of mr gupperduck's return

i'd give my sugar ration to know what we're all a-goin to do in evan remarked bindle meditatively fancy arty there what will e do they won't let him sell vegetables and they'll soon stop him singing we shall all have our occupations remarked mrs bindle oracular "'Yes, but what?' demanded Bindle. "'There ain't no furniture to move and no vegetables to sell. All I can do is watch Artie and see he doesn't go round pinching angels' meat tickets.' For once Mrs. Bindle allowed a remark to pass without the inevitable accusation of blasphemy. "'No,' remarked Bindle. "'If I dies and they sends me up to Evan, I shall knock at the door and I shall say, "'Is Artie here? Artie the Fulham and Putney Greengrocer, you know?

If they says yes, then it's a smoker for me, and Bindle proceeded to recharge 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. "'Only angels!' cried Bindle, starting up. "'Only angels! Someone's been a-trying to alter him!'

He bent forward to get a better view. "'Don it pretty well, too!' he muttered as he gazed at the unprepossessing features of Mr. Gupper-duck, now accentuated by a black eye, a broken lip, a contusion on the right cheekbone, and one ear covered with blood. His collar had disappeared, also his hat and spectacles. His waistcoat was torn open and various portions were missing from his coat. What's he been doing? inquired 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.

What's he been up to? Who'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 meeting's been addressing him, don't it? he remarked. That was not a very successful meeting, remarked the other supporter of Mr. Gupperduck duck 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 meet and make such alterations in a man and 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 parlor and returned with a half-quarterned bottle "'Poring 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?' inquired Bindle, from where he knelt beside the damaged Mr. Gupperduck. "'Give him that,' said Mrs. Bindle. "'He's temperance.' "'Well he ain't now,' remarked Bid. 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. poor old guppy murmured bindle they'd done it in style anyhow i wonder what he's been up to must have been saying things what they didn't like what was he talking about old sport bindle turned to the man with a 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 have 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 his face suggested the man nodded it was terrible he said terrible we were afraid they would kill him and where was you while all this was apnin oh said the man i was fortunate enough to find a tree bindel looked him up and down with elaborate intent then having satisfied himself as to every detail of his appearance and apparel he remarked ain't it wonderful what luck some coves do ave i regarded as the direct interposition of providence said the man and i suppose you shined 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 of boosted you up the tree from behind, so as when they'd all gone you could come down and pick up what was left of him. That it? inquired Bindle. That's exactly what happened to my friend, replied the man, with the sandy beard. And where did all this happen? 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 what a man can do with a crowd,' remarked Bindle oracularly, "'but, turning to the inert figure of Mr. Gupperduck, "'it's still more wonderful what a crowd can do with a man.' "'Bindle!' Mrs. Bindle's voice rang out authoritatively. "'Here am I,' replied Bindle obediently. "'Help us lift Mr. Gupperduck on a chair.'

with elaborate care they raised the inert form of mr gupparduck 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 bimble and the two friends regarded mr gupparduck admiringly seeing that their friend and brother was now in safe hands mr gupparduck'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 just complaining that she could only get two candles and a quarter of a pound of margarine and yet she wants them two coves to stay to supper hungry-looking pair they was too i suppose it's what she calls hospitality he added seems to me damn silly like a hen fussing over a damaged chick mrs bindle ministered to the requirements of mr guppardup she fed him with a spoon crooned over and sympathized 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 gupparduck 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 gupparduck she attacked the coalition government for not providing a more effective police force "'But,' protested Vindle at length,

"'he was asking for it. "'Why can't he keep his opinions to himself "'and not go a-shoving him down other people's throats "'when they don't like the taste of him? "'If you go trying to shove tripe down the throat of a cold "'what don't like tripe, "'you're sure to get one in the eye. "'That is, if he's bigger in what you are,

"'if he's smaller, he'll just be sick. "'Yer are you a complaining because Guppy gets himself hurt? "'I don't understand.' "'Because you haven't got a soul,' interrupted Mrs. Bindle with conviction. "'Well,' remarked Bindle philosophically, "'I'd sooner have a flea than a soul. There is flea powder, but there ain't no soul powder what I've been able to find.' And Bindle rose, yawned, and made towards the door.

End of Chapter 6. Read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, Shaggybark.blogspot.com The Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins Chapter 7 The Courting of the Reverend Andrew McPhee Mr. Hardy 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 has, 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 apologized 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 VC. millikins bindle would cry owes his nibs and milly would blush and tell of the latest news she had received from her lover uncle joe she would say i can'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 old fool it's all right millicans bindle would say charlie's going to win the war and we're all going to be proud of him and milly would smile at her uncle with moist eyes and give that affectionate squeeze to his arm that Vindle would not have parted with for the rubies of India. You know, Uncle Joe, she said bravely on one occasion.

We women have to give up those we love. Vindle had not seen the plaintive humor of her remark, but had suddenly become noisily engrossed in the use of his handkerchief. Mr. Harty 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 favorably disposed toward young girls as wives, and Mr. Hardy 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 behoove a question such as mr harty to wish a fellow being dead but he could not disguise himself from the fact that our casualties on the western front were heavy particularly during the period of offensives since the occasion when milly had asserted her independence and had declined to order her affections in accordance with mr harty'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. Hardy, but by a strange freak of fate, to a certain extent, by Mrs. Bindle herself. Mr. Hardy 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. Hardy instinctively felt that she had ranged herself on the side of the enemy. But the fates were playing for Mr. Hardy. When the Reverend Mr. Soapley of the Alton Road Chapel had decided to retire on account of failing health, Lady Nob Carrick determined to bring up from Barton Ridge her country residence

the Reverend Andrew McPhee. She had forgiven him his participation in the temperance fate 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 Fate Fiasco had proved the greatest sin, sensation that the county had ever known. The mixing of crude alcohol and distilled mead with the lemonade, whereby the participants in the rustic fate had been intoxicated, thus causing it to develop into a wild orgy of violence, resulting in assaults upon Lady Nob Carrick and the police,

had been a nine-day-s-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. long time before Lady Nob Carrick could be persuaded to see in the Reverend Andrew McPhee 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 around. After Mr. McPhee's eloquent sermon upon the Gatareen swine, Lady Nob

Carrick had eventually come around, and appease. had been patched up between them. From that day it required more courage to whisper the words temperance fate in Barton Ridge than to charge across no man's land in France. And so it was that the Reverend Andrew McPhee transferred his activities from Barton Ridge to Fulham. He was grateful to Providence for this sign of beneficent approval of his labors and relieved to know that Barton Ridge would in the future be but a memory. There he had made history, for in the bars of the two-faced earl than the Blue Fox, the unbeliever drinks with gusto and a wink of superior knowledge a beverage known as lemon and a mac, a compound of lemonade and gin, which owes its origin to the part

played in the historic temperance fate by the Reverend Andrew McPhee. 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. 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 fetishes. As Bindle had once remarked, There's only one spot in my Mrs. Kitchen, and that's when I'm there. As she proceeded with her work,

she hummed her favorite hymn. It rose and fell sometimes dying away altogether. She banged the various articles on the table as if to emphasize her thoughts. Her task completed she went to the sink. As she was washing her hands there was a knock at the 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 reverend andrew mcphay it's me mrs bindle he said as he entered the room the outer door was open so i just came in oh i'm sorry sir said mrs bindle i thought it was her whole manner wonder when to 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 in to the parlour sir she said it's very kind of you to call nah now mrs bimdle replied mr mcfey i just come in to-to he hesitated but won't you sit down sir mrs bindle indicated a chair by the side of the table

mr mcfie 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 hand she waited for the minister to speak mr mcfie was obviously ill at ease he'll be coming to the service the necht mrs biendel he began oh yes sir responded mrs bendell moving her head back on her shoulders depressing her chin and drawing in her lips with a simper i wouldn't miss your address ay said mr mcfee gazing into the vacancy as if in search of inspiration finding none he repeated aye mr mcfey'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 s'n sart concerned mrs bindle he stopped wordless yes sir responded mrs bindle encouragingly i'm s'ard concerned not to see the wee lassie moor at the kirk who sir millie inquired mrs bindle in surprise ay responded mr mcfeye the call of mammon is like the blarest of a great trumpet and to the unbelieving it is as sweet music it is the call of satan mrs bingle the call of satan he repeated as if pleased with the phrase i'dna like the wee lassie to-to i'll speak to mr harty sir said mrs bindle compressing her lips it's very good of you sir i'm sure too nah nah interrupted mr mcfey hastily na na na mrs bingle my duty it is the blessed duty of the shepherd to be concerned 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 bendell and mr mcfey appeared self-conscious as they gazed obliquely at the interrupter.

Hello, caught you, said Bindle jocosely. Bindle! There was horror and anger in Mrs. Bindle's voice. Mr. McPhee merely looked uncomfortable. He rose hastily. I must be gang, Mrs. Bindle, he said, then turning to Bindle remarked. I just come to inquire if Mrs. Bindle was coming to chapel the nict. Don't you fret about that, sir, said Bindle genially. She wouldn't miss a chance to pray. and may we expect you mr bindle inquired mr mcfee by way of making conversation and preventing and 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 what i can be trusted with i don't touch neither

Then as Mr. McPhee moved towards the door, he added, Must you go, sir? You won't stay and have a bit of supper? Nah, no, replied Mr. McPhee hastily. I hey, the Lord's work to do, Mr. Bindle, 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 him 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 over spreading 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. What did Sandy want? inquired 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 insolting me cried bindle in surprise why i only cheer o'd him you'll never learn how to behave stormed mrs bindle losing her temper and her aches look at you now all dressed up and leaving me alone bindle was wearing his best clothes for some reason known only to himself and he would think he was going to a wedding continued mrs bindle not again said bindle cheerfully what was old scotch and soda after, he inquired. 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, what did the Reverend McAndrew want? He came to inquire why Milly was so often absent from chapel.

I shall have to speak to Mr. Hardy, said Mrs. Bindle. Bindle's reply was a prolonged whistle. He's after Millikins, is he? he, he muttered. That is how both Bindle and Mrs. Bindle first learned that the reverend andrew mcfee was interested in their pretty niece millie harty mrs bindle mentioned the fact of mr mcfee's call to mr harty and from that moment he had seen in the minister a potential son-in-law the angular piety of mr mcfee rendered him an awkward not to say a clumsy lover i likes to see old macka angin around millikins remarked bindle to mrs bindle one evening over supper it's like an hippopotamus given that glad eye to a canary heathen was mrs bindle's sole comment milly hearty herself had been much troubled by mr mcfie's ponderous attentions at first she had regarded them merely as the friendly interest of a pastor and a member of his flock but soon they became too obvious for misinterpretation millikins said bindle one evening as he and milly were walking home from the pictures you ain't a-going to forget charlie are you uncle joe there was reproach in milly's voice as she withdrew her arm from benny

all right millikins said bindle capturing her hand and placing it through his arm don't get uffy old mac's been making such a dead set at you that i wanted to know how things stood bindle's remarks had opened the floodgates of milly'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 harty i hate him uncle joe he's always always she paused blushing a given of you the glad i suggested suggested Bindle. Oh, I've seen him. Oh, he's horrible, Uncle Joe. I'm sure he's a wicked man. Of course he is, replied Bindle with conviction, or he wouldn't be a parson. Bindle had spoken to Mr. Harty about the matter. Look here, Artie, you ain't going back on them two lovebirds, are you? He inquired. Mr. Harty had regarded his brother-in-law with what he conceived to be, reproving dignity. I do not understand, Joseph, you remarked in hollow, woolly tomes. well there's old mac always a-given the glad-eye to millicons 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 orp it artie you're only a greengrocer and greengrocers don't talk like that ear whatever they may do in ev'n if you're a going to have 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 and don't you forget it bindle was angry of late joseph mr hartey 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 that if it hadn't been for me oath in my tongue you would have had no blooming affairs for me to mix up in mr harty paled and fumbled with the right lapel of his coat anyhow said bindle millikins is going to marry charlie dixon and if you're going to try any of your dirty tricks over old skin and oatmeal then you're going to be up against j b there are times muttered bindle as he walked away from the harty's house when ordy gets my goat and he started whistling shrilly to cheer himself up. Bindle was still troubled in his mind about Mr. Harty's scheme for Millie's future, and one Sunday evening he determined to forego the nightclub in order to call upon the Hardys with the object of conveying to Mr. McPhee in the course of conversation that Millie was irrevocably pledged to Charlie Dixon. Mr. McPhee had formed the habit of supping with the

Harties after evening service, and frequently Mrs. Bindle was of the party. Bindle's Sunday evening engagements at the nightclub had been a cause of great relief to Mrs. Bindle. For some time previously, Mr. Hardy'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. Harty, anathema. And whilst they amused Mrs. Harty, who, having trouble with her breath, did not seem to consider that religion was meant for her, that caused Mr. Harty intense anguish. He felt safe, however, in asking Mr. McPhee 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. Hartey, Mr. McPhee, Mr. Gupperduck and Mrs. Bindle were gathered round the harmonium. Mrs. Hardy 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. Gupparduck was seated on a chair, endeavoring 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? inquired Bindle, having greeted everybody,

as he stood puffing volumes of smoke from one of Sprague's Fulham-Wiffs, a smoke he still affected when Lord Windover was not present to correct his taste in tobacco. Well, what's the joke? He went looking from the lugubrious countenance of Mr. McPhee to the melancholy forebony depicted on that of Mr. Harty. Turning to Mrs. Harty, Bindle pointed his cigar at her accusingly. You've been telling naughty stories, Martha, he said. I can see it. Look at them coves over there. He turned his cigar towards Mr. Gupperduck and Mr. McPhee.

Oh, Martha, Martha! And he wagged his head solemnly at Mrs. Harty, who was already in a state of helpless laughter. Ain't you just the limit, and I'm a parson, too. Millie Harty 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 helped. It's the war, you know. That cove-lewell and John is always wanting me round to give him advice. Then I have to run over and give

Hague an int or two. Ain't the Kaiser just mad when he ears I've been over? Because it means another push. Why, would you believe it, sir? He turned to Mr. McPhee. The reason they didn't make old Indenburg a prince last birthday was because he hadn't been able to land me. Get me, Joe Bindle, dead or alive, said the Kaiser to Indy, and I'll make you a prince, and ain't old Indianburg 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 going again your old uncle are you Millikins he cried then suddenly turning to Mr. Hardy he inquired ain't we going to have any ems Artie here I say can't you stop

weasy willie doing that old sport this to Mr. Gupperduck who was still struggling to silence the mutinacy sharp sets my teeth on edge it does I'm in a rare voice tonight bought some ass of drops I did as I come along and add 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 milly you'll frighten mr mcfey away bendell turned and regarded the solemn visage of mr mcfey his long immobile upper lip his sandy hair parted in the middle and brushed smoothly down upon his head now millikins he said with conviction there ain't nothing what'll frighten a scotchman out of england they know what's what they do ain't that so sir he inquired of mr mcfey mr mcfey mr mcfee regarded Bindle as if he were talking in a foreign tongue. Mr. Gupparduck 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 your ear, sir,' said Bindle to Mr. McPhee. I wanted your advice on something in the Bible. Now then, Millicans, you ought to sit down beside me. Can't sit on your uncle's knee when you're talking about the Bible. What'll Charlie say?' Then turning to Mr. McPhee's, Mr. McPhee with what he imagined to be great subtl intact. Vindle inquired, You ain't met Charlie Dixon have you, sir? Mr. McPhee shook a mournful head in negation.

He's going to marry Millikins, ain't he Millikins? Millie cast her eyes down and with heightened color bowed her head in affirmation of Bindle's statement. Pretty pair they'll make two, said Bindle with conviction. I hope you'll be marrying him, sir. Mr. McPhee looked uncomfortable. But that ain't what I wanted to talk to you about, continued Bindle.

I happened to pick up the Bible today. 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 Uriar and a king named David. Uriah the Hittite, murmured Mr. Harty. Uriar had got a smart bird. That's a gal, sir, Bindle explained to Mr. McPhee,

and David had sort of taken a liking to her. So what does David do but send Uriar to the front, so as he might get killed and then David pinches his gal. Now what I want to know, sir, said Bindle, addressing Mr. McPhee, is what God did, because as far as I can see, he was sort of fond of David. Now if I'd been God and David had done a thing like that, I'd have raised a pretty big blister on his nose. No one spoke. Mr. Hardy glanced covertly at Mr. McPhee,

who looked as if he would have given much to be elsewhere. Mrs. Bindle's lips had entirely disappeared. Mr. Hardy gasped and heaved, whilst many blushed. "'Bindle!' cried Mrs. Bindle at last. "'Bendell, you forget yourself.' "'Not me, Mrs. B., I come here to get what you and Artie calls light. "'Now, sir,' turning to Mr. McPhee, "'what do you think God did, and what do you think of that blighter David?'

"'Mr. Bindle,' said Mr. McPhee at last, "'we must leave to Providence, the things that belong to Providence.' "'I thought you'd agree, sir. You're a sport you are. of course david ought to have left old urrier what belonged to urrier and not pinch his gal you you wouldn't do a thing like that sir would you he inquired i wonder what the gal thought eh millikins he inquired turning to his niece if i had been her said milly i should have killed david milly gasped mr hardy how how dare you say such a thing i should father replied milly quietly mr macfee coughed mr hardy looked about him as if for something at which to clutch then with sudden inspiration he said, "'Milly, we will have a hymn.' "'Ear let me get out,' cried Bindle and mock alarm.

"'I can't stand wheezy Willie again, too much of one note. "'Good night, Martha. "'My ain't you getting fat,' he remarked as he stood looking down at Mrs. Hardy, "'whereat she went off into wheezes and heavings of laughter. "'Salong, Artie! I hope 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 again.

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. End of Chapter 7, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, Shaggybark. blogspot.com. Chapter 8 of the Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 8, the Chapel Conversazione. Lady Nag Carrick's nomination of the Reverend Andrew McPhee to the vacant pastorate at the Alton Road Chapel was her way of showing that an amnesty had been

arranged between them, and that Mr. McPhee had accepted it with the nearest approach to pleasure that he ever permitted himself. Miss McPhee, his sister and housekeeper, had sniffed, but it was always difficult to discriminate between Miss McPhee's physical and mental sniffes. 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 once say with any degree of certainty that Miss McPhee's sniffs meant indignation and not an inflamed membrane.

In commemoration of his long ministry at the Alton Road Chapel, the Reverend Mr. Soapley was to receive an illuminated address, a purse of 50 pounds, and a silver-mounted hot water bottle. For reasons of a common, the presentation was to be made on the same occasion as the conversazione inaugurating the pastorate of mr. McPhee this conversazione had been delayed for some months as miss McPhee 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.

McPhee had taken lodgings in Fulham thus freeing mr. Sopley whose help 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 Nob Carrick 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 omelots from lady's shoes but it had been decided that such things were too

secular for the occasion. Lady Nobkeric had insisted that the words of the Glee 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 Nobkeric 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 Nobkeric 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 program was eventually decided upon. The Conversazione was held in the chapel schoolroom. A considerable portion of Mr. Harty's drawing-room furniture had been requisitioned in order to give the place an appearance of hominess and comfort. Mr. Hardy's clock and lusters were upon the mantelpiece, and Mr. Harty's pink candles were in the lusters. Chains of colored paper, to Mr. Harty, 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-blossoms seemed scarcely the greeting for those who had been invited to revel. The wages of sin is death, with violets coqueting in and out the letters, is sound theology, but not a convincing invitation to merrymaking. And so shall ye all likewise perish, with primroses that seem to have paled through long association with so terrible a menace, throughout 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 homemade three-cornered parts, with raspberry jam baked hard peeping out at the joins, as if to advertise that there was no deception. Millie Hardy had striven to mitigate the uncompromising gloom of the text

by placing evergreens about the frames, but with no very pronounced success. Mr. Harty had supplied the fruit, and Mr. Black the groceries at cost-price. That is to say Mr. Hardy had taken off a half-penny a pound from his ten-penny apples, and Mr. Black three farthings a bottle from his one and nine-penny lemon squash. On the night of the Conversatione, Mr. Harty and Mrs. Bindle arrived early in order to put finishing touches to everything. Mrs. Bindle was wearing a new dress of puse-colored merino, and Mr. Hardy had donned a white tie in honor of the occasion. His trousers still concertinated mournfully down his legs until they disparedly met his large and shapeless boots. Millie Hardy was also an early arrival. In her white frock she looked

strangely out of place associated with her father and aunt. Mr. Hardy 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 Hardy's 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.

Harty each time to look round expectantly. "'He's Joseph coming?' he inquired 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 guppard duck can't come said mrs bendell as she arranged the fish-paste sandwiches he's got a meeting at hoxton mr hardy made some murmur of response as she dashed across the room to adjust three chairs that lacked symmetry ohish they'd all come elf wheezed mrs hardy hitting the front of a bright green bodice Sartorially Mrs. Hardy always ran to brilliancy. "'I hope Mr. McPhee will not be late,' said Mr. Hardy in a tone of gloom foreboding. Mr. McPhee's arrival at that moment, accompanied by Miss McPhee, put an end to this anxiety. Miss McPhee was a tall, flat-chested, angular woman of about forty, with high cheekbones and almost white eyebrows and eyelashes.

She greeted Mr. Hardy and the others without emotion. Mr. McPhee 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 inquired 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 harty she said i think that you and mr mcfay ought to receive the guests at the door certainly elizabeth certainly said mr harty there was unaccustomed decision in his voice he was glad of something definite to do striding over to mr mcfee he whispered to him and practically dragged him away from milly 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 hardy from time to time beat her chest "'Yes, me breath,' she confided to Mr. Soapley, then subsided into wheezing. "'Ah!' Mr. Soapley changed the angle of his gaze. Whenever spoken to, he invariably opened his mouth

with the jerk as if he had been suddenly brought back from another world by someone hitting him in the wind. As often as not he reclosed 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. Payne and his wife, Mom,' she announced. Mr. McPhee and Mr. Harty became instantly galvanized into activity. "'Not his wife,' corrected Mrs. Bindle in a whisper. "'But she is his wife,' protested Alice indignantly. "'Ain't you, Mum?' she inquired of Mrs. Payne. Mrs. Payne simpered her acquiescence as she turned to Mr. McPhee and Mr. Harty, who had

raced towards her. "'You should say Mr. and Miss. mrs pain alice said mrs bindle with quiet forbearance sorry remarked alice turning to go i ain't used to this ear why can't they come in without all this yellman out of names she muttered i 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 mcfey and mr harty he was wearing a black frock-coat and light brown tweed trousers a white waistcoat and a royal blue tie Mrs. Payne was a tall, thin woman, garbed in a narrow brown skirt with a cream-colored 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. Payne 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. Payne 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. Harty and Mr. McPhee, much as Mr. and Mrs. Payne 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 emphasized 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. McPhee and Mr. Hardy 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. McPhee's flock, Mr. Tuttenham and Mr. Musket. Mr. Tuttenham was a stout, self-important little man with a red face

and a don't you dare to argue with me, sir, air. Mr. Musket, on the other hand, was tall and lean with lantern jaws, a sallow complexion, and a white beard. Mr. Tuttenham's clothes fitted him like a glove. Mr. Musket's hung in despairing folds about his person. Mr. Tuttonham wore a high collar, which cut viciously into his red neck. Mr. Musket's neckwear was non-conformist than cut. Mr. Teddenham glared at the world through fierce bloodshot eyes. Mr. Mustarder gazed weakly over the top of a pair of Ponce-nez that hung at one side. Mr. Musket's voice was an overpowering boom, contrasting oddly with the thin, high-pitched tones of Mr. Tuddenham. Mr. Tuddenham was as upright as a bantam. Mr. Musket drooped like a wilted lily.

No one had ever seen Mr. Musket without Mr. Tuddenham, or Mr. Tuddenham without Mr. Musket. Alice appeared to have considerable difficulty over their names, during which Mr. McPhee and Mr. Harty 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. Tusket. Tuttonham, girl, Tunham! Shrieked Mr. Tuddenham. Muskett, I said. Musket, boomed Mr. Musket. For a moment, Alice regarded them with some apprehension. Then her face broke into a smile

and, with a sidewise 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 toe-colored hair and poncenae and a manner that seemed to shout virtue and chastity she was all action and vivacity and nothing could damn 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 demire cuet mrs bindle had taken up her position near the door so that she might correct alice should occasion arise the butcher and his missus announced alice alice alice protested mrs bendell in a loud whisper you mustn't announce people like that you should say mr and mrs gash i asked him mum protested alice and that's what he 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-humoredly. 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. Hippett as, Mr. Pipp-Pip, and Mrs. Muspratt as, Miss Muskrat! 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. Harty and Mrs. Bindle exchanged glances. "'They recognized that voice. "'You let go, I ain't one of them, sort,' said the voice of Bindle. "'You ain't going 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. "'I 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, anything might happen. Look, here's my coat and hat. So don't say I haven't trusted you. Here, let go. Bindle made an impressive figure in his evening clothes, patent boots, a large diamond stud in the center of his shirt, a geranium in his buttonhole, and a red silk handkerchief tucked in the open. of his waistcoat. "'Allo, Artie!' he cried genially. "'Ear, call her arp,' indicating Alice, with a jerk of his thumb. "'Seems to have taken a fancy to me, and 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. "'That's the little lot, Artie,' he inquired in a hoarse whisper, audible to all. "'Don't look very cheer-old crowd, do they? The idea of going to Evan seems to make them low-spirited. Bindle regarded Mr. McPhee intently. Then turning to Mr. Musket, who happened to be standing near him, he remarked, "'Can't you see him in an night-shirt with wings and an arp? A-fluttering about like a little canary? Wonderful place, Evan, sir,' said Bindle, looking up at Mr. Musket. "'Sir,' boomed Mr. Musket, Bindle started back, then recovering himself

and leaning forward slightly, he said, "'do you mind doing that again, sir, just to see if I can stand it without jumping? Mr. Musket glared at him, swung round on his heel, and joined Mr. Tuddenham at the other end of the room. Seems to have trod on his toes, muttered Bindle as he watched Mr. Musket, 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 neighbor, Miss Torkington. Ain't he a knockout? he remarked, nudging her with his elbow.

I beg your pardon, said Miss Torkington, lifting her chin and folding her hands before her. Em, Artie, said Bindle. Ain't he a knockout? 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 billis slowly turned and watched her fine old bird he muttered i wonder what i said to urt her feelings the glee party of four had formed up near the harmonium mr hardy was in earnest conversation with the leader he wished to see lady nob kerrick's arrival heralded with appropriate music the leader of the singers was a man whose serious visage convinced mr hardy that to him him might safely be left the selection of the extra that was to welcome the patroness of the occasion. Mr. Harty was unaware that in the leader's heart was a smouldering anger against Lady Nob Carrick on account of her rudeness in the recent correspondence that had taken place. Furthermore,

he had already received his fee. "'Hi, Artie!' Bindle called to Mr. Harty as he left the leader of the Glee Party. "'When's the old bird coming?' Mr. Harty turned. The old bird, he interrogated with lifted eyebrows. Lady Knob Carrick, bawled Alice, throwing open the door with a flourish. Lady Knob Carrick sailed into the room, her head held high in supercilious superiority. Following her came her companion, Miss Strint, who had carried herself suppression and todeism to the point of inspiration.

Immediately behind came John, Lady Knob Carrick's footman, bearing before him the illuminated address, the purse containing fifteen. treasury pound notes and the silver-mounted hot water bottle. Bindle started clapping vigorously. Two or three other guests followed suit, but the looked Lady Nob Carrick cast about her, proved to them conclusively that Bindle had done the wrong thing. As most kind of your ladyship to come, Mr. Hardy fussed about Lady Nob Carrick, 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 quartet 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 that's rolling mad. But of all the eyes that I may 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 base the company looked at one another in amazement lady nob kerak scarlet with rage glared through her lorgnets at the singers and then at mr hardy who from where he stood petrified gazed wonderingly 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 of his acquired by a flapper from the country in the course of a fortnight's holiday in london mrs bendell made it clear to the leader that as far as the alton road chapel was concerned he was indulging in an optical delusion we're all deeply honoured by your ladyship's presence this evening said mr mcfie throwing himself into the breach it is get me a chair demanded lady nob kerrick still glaring in the direction of the glee singers bendel rushed at her with a frail looking hemp-seated chair which he proceeded to flick with his red silk pocket-handkerchief won't be enough mum he inquired solicitously lady nob 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 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 and inquired Mr. Harty, or,

No, was Lady Nob Carrick'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. Hardy and Mr. Gash trotted off to fetch a small table from the corner of the room. This was placed in front of Lady Nob Carrick, and on it John deposited the illuminated address, the bag containing the notes, and the silver-mounted hot water bottle. a hash of expectancy fell upon the assembly lady nob 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 and illuminated a dress a purse of fifty pounds and a silver-mounted hot water-bottle she paused for a moment

moment a trifle that shall remind him of the loving hearts he has left behind murmurs of respectful appreciation mr soply 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 is so well and thoroughly earned ear ear from bindle i trust and hope that the lord will spare him for many years to come i'm sure that i would if i was god whispered bindle to mr tuddenham who only glared at him we have no among us continued lady nob kerrick a new pastor a man of sterlingworth and sound religious principles that's you said bindle in a hoarse whisper nudging mr mcfie who stood next to him i have proceeded lady knob kerrick sat under him oh naughty naughty whispered bindle lady knob kerak 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 fates interpolated bindle the result of the interruption was electrical lady nob kerrick dropped her lorgnettes and lost her place mr mcfee's adam's apple moved up and down with alarming rapidity testifying to the great emotional ordeal through which he was passing mr harty looked at mrs bindle mrs bindle looked at bindle everybody looked at everybody else because every one had heard of the temperance fate fiasco lady noborekarrick resumed her seat suddenly then it was that Mr. Harty had an inspiration, with a swift movement that precipitated him on the foot of Miss Torkington, whose anguished expression caused Bindle to mutter,

Fancy er being able to do that with Urfax! He landed beside Mr. Soapley. 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. Soapley thanked Lady Nob Carrick 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 rotors, harps, and halos, and threw the rest of Fulham into the bottom bit 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 and 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 here you've forgotten your bedfeller sir cried bindle picking up the silver-mounted hot-water bottle and the framed address and carrying them over to mr soapley mr mcfee prepared himself for the ordeal before him standing in front of lady nobkerrick as if she had been an altar he bowed low before her your ladyship a pause of veneration mafriends he continued few ministers of the gospel have the privilege that has been extended to me this evening it is the will of the old mighty that i succeed a most saintly man murmurs of approval in the person of mr sopley it will be a difficult position for me to feel mr soply wagged his head from side to side in her brilliant oration her ladyship has emphasized some of the attributes of a man whose godliness she can all testify you said 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 endeavoring to keep out a disheveled-looking creature who finally broke through and walked unsteadily towards the table. Lady Nob Carrick turned and stared at the apparition through her lorgnets. Mr. McPhee's jaw dropped. Mr. Soply 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 hand drew my little Andy! cried the woman in hoarse, maudlin tones, her hair to which was attached a black toke 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 nob careck of mr mcfee as she rose from her chair a veritable radamanthus the girl

girl who was now hanging to Mr. McPhee's arm turned and regarded Lady Knob Carrick over her shoulder. "'He's my boy!' she sputtered. Then, closing her eyes, her head wobbled from side to side as if her neck were unable to support it. "'You're what?' thundered Lady Nob Carrick. "'My, my boy!' drawled the girl. "'Husband! Oh, Andy, Andy!' And she clung to Mr. McPhee the more closely, in spite of his frantic efforts to shake himself free. "'Mr. McPhee, what is the meaning of this?' demanded Lady Nob Carrick.

I've never seen her before, stammered Mr. McPhee, looking as if he had been grabbed by an octopus. On my oath, your ladyship, before my 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. McPhee's arm. Do you know anything of this woman? demanded Lady Nob Carrick of Miss McPhee.

miss macfee 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 macfee's conduct at the temperance fate mr macfie you have you have disgraced your ladyship on my honour i swear don't andy don't said the girl striving to put her hand over his mouth don't god miss track you did he did it once didn't he oh i've learnt the bible she added in a modern tone i can sing hymns i can can she began to croon something in a wheezy voice mr mcfee made a desperate effort to free himself from her clutches but succeeded only in bringing her to her knees look at him look at him 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 damn lie it's my enemy my enemy woman i know thee not thou art the scarlet woman of babylon get thee from me i curse thee mr macfee's gaelic blood was up go to it sir said bindle go it you have come as the ravening wolf upon the sheepfolded night to destroy the lamb mr mcfrey waved his disengaged arm you being the lamb sir go it i'll ha the law on you woman i'll have the law on you you imposter you harlot your daughter of belial he flung his arm about and his eyes rolled with almost maniacal fury my god my god why persecute us thou me he cried lifting his eyes to the ceiling then with a sudden

drop to earthly things he appealed the lady nob kerrick your ladyship your ladyship do not believe this woman she lies she would ruin me i will have her arrested fetch the police i demand the police lady nob kerak 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. McPhee. "'Oh, Andy, Andy, you never was the same after you had that drink in you, down in the country at the temperance fate. Don't you remember how you laughed with me about that old bird being washed out of her courage?' "'It's a lay! It's a lay! A damnable lay!'

screamed Mr. McPhee. Mr. McPhee was interrupted in his protestations by a sudden rush of feet, and the hall began to fill with a wild-eyed, dishevelled the crowd. mothers carrying their babies or pulling along little children everyone inviting everyone else to come in one woman was in hysterics lady nob kerricks 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 nob kerak paled a ride she faltered yes mum can't you hear the police whistles well i'm damned broke in bindle slapping his leg in ecstasy then a moment after seeing the terror in the women's faces he cried out it's all right there ain't no raid don't be frightened it's old calves with that balloon and police whistle tell that fellow 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 mcfee dramatic pointing at her who claimed to be his wife. With alacrity, the special pulled his notebook out of his

pocket. "'The charge, sir?' he inquired. "'She says she's my wife.' The special looked up from his notebook. "'That is not an indictable offence, sir, I'm afraid.' "'But she's now my wife,' protested Mr. McPhee. 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 vigor was the police whistle were far-reaching. Omnibuses had drawn up to the curb 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 headquarters, 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 schoolroom, 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 the bedroom. In front of the dressing table stood private Nancy Dane, the far-famed purrette of the Pashendeo Piroz. He was in the act of removing from his closely cropped head a dark wig to which was attached a black toke with an oval of vivid-colored embroidery. Well, what's that? he remarked as he laid it on the table. Hello, 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've done it fine, remarked Bindle approvingly, as he watched Dane slowly transform himself into a private of the line. Poor old Mac, he added. He got the wind up proper. Good show, what? Quirried 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 him a-trying to take the gal away from one of the boys what's fighting at the front? Cruel? It wouldn't be cruel, Nancy if he was cut up and salted and 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.

Rotto, said Bindle cheerfully. Then after a pause, he added, I got to thank old Amlet for that little idea and you, sir, for finding Mr. Nancy. Did it wonderful. Well, he did. Still, remarked Bindle meditatively, I wish they added. I wish they had to it blown that police whistle. Them poor women and kids was that scared, made me feel I didn't ought to have done it, but then how was I to know that the old bird was going to anky-panky like that with the calves? Took her name they did, that's something. Anyhow, old Mac won't go hanging round Milliken's again for many a long day. If he does, I'll punch his bloomin' Ed. The next day Lady Nob Carrick and John were summoned for causing to be blown to the public

confusion a police whistle, and although the summonses were dismissed, the magistrates 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 Southwestern 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. McPhee cleared his character to some extent by a sermon on the following Sunday upon the Ninth Commandment, and by inserting an advertisement in the principal papers offering 20 pounds 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.

End of Chapter 8, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, shaggybart.bart.orgspot.com chapter nine of the adventures of bindle by herbert jenkins this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins chapter nine the letting of number six one and 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 and mr gupparduck 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 art mrs bindle's ire was rising and her diction in consequence losing something of its customary precision you know i ain't strong an an ow them guns and bombs frighten me there was in mrs bindle's voice a note of entreaty a daughter of the lord didn't ought to be afraid of a nun "'Beside you can go round and old arties and. "'E's a rare old therow, and there's guns going 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 onto the stove. I gotta earn a living, remarked Bindle philosophically as he proceeded to light his pipe. It's wartime too and nobody can't afford to move,

so poor old Joe has to take any old job he can get old of. You lost her last job of 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 Harwich'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 blooming 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 old 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 bese bennel so you ain't hurt mrs bindle resumed her attack upon the fire with increased vigor 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 bindal 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 of tips old charlie says he remarked and i'll buy you something 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. Vindle 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, oh, uncle! The remark came from a brazen-faced girl waiting for a bus. Vindle 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 becoming decent. The girl jumped onto 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 her face to whitewash her feet, remarked to workmen to Vindle as he resumed his walk. Women is funny things, responded Vindle. They never seems to be wearing so little, they can't leave orf a bit more. You're right there, mate, replied the man when he had digested the remark. If I was the police, I'd run him in. Well, said Bindle philosophically,

there is somewhat likes to see all the goods in the window, so long, and he turned off the Fulham Road, leaving the workman to pursue his journey, puzzling over Bindle's enigmatic utterance. "'Allo, Charlie,' greeted Bindle, as he entered the porter's lodge of Fulham Square Mansions, here I am come to take care of all the little birds in the nest what you're a leaving 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 have 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 a rose. 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. And who's Royal Richard? inquired Bindle with interest. "'Jim,' 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 emphasized. "'Number six was temporarily vacant. "'The owner was away, "'but it was let furnished from the following Monday "'to Miss Sissy Boy, "'who was one of those to be done for. "'Vindle was particularly cautioned to see "'that there were no carryings on,

"'whereat he winked, reassuringly. "'Mrs. Sehays. 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 dumb fellow hart he roared thrusting his head into the porter's lodge he's gone to the damned seaside replied bindle imperturbably as he proceeded to light his pipe with elaborate calm taking his damned wife with him he added number seven gasped and who the devil are you he demanded well replied bindle with a grin on the oars i'm little titch but ere i calls myself joe bindle known only as holy joe for a moment number seven his customary redness of face transformed to purple stood regarding bindle fiercely tell me damn to you he burst out and turning on his heel dashed upstairs i ain't lived with mrs bn nineteen years without learning how to handle explosive remarked Bindle as he settled down to read an evening newspaper he had discovered in the letterbox.

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 9.30 he found his room at 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 here, sir. This is the second time today I've had to speak to

you about your language. This ain't a peace meeting. You're speaking like that before ladies too. I'm surprised at you. Oh, I am really. Now up it and learn some nice words, and then come back and beg prettily, and perhaps I'll give you a bit of cake. You damned insulin, fellow, thundered number seven. I'll report you, I'll... Look here, remarked Bindle, tranquilly. If you ain't gone by the time I've finished lighten this pipe, he struck a match deliberately. I'll oaf it myself, and then who'll fetch up all the colds in the morning? This master stroke of strategy turned public opinion dead against number seven, who retired amidst a murmur of disapproving voices. It's hard if I can't go out to see a dying wife and child without imma coming using

aught 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 perhaps she's taken up with a nether cove sir suggested bendell 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 piquanese spaniel a dog you say sir cried bindle why didn't you say so before i might have advertised for well well i'll keep a look at you out. What's that? he inquired with 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 have to take some firewood to bed with you. If you wants company, coal you don't get tonight. What about a log? My name's not Queenie, snapped the girl. "'Ain't it now,' remarked Bindle. "'Show your father and mother "'adn't a knife of the right thing, didn'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 her, "'well, she ain't respectable. "'Now off you goes like a good gal.' "'I'll get even with you yet, "'you red-nosed little bounder. I'll pay you.' "'Funny where they learns at all,' remarked Bindle, "'to number eleven, a quiet little old lady who wanted a postage stamp. The little lady smiled.

She won't be wanting 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 just like a woman, begging your pardon, mum? Why didn't Queenie say that instead of showing how bad she's been brought up? Right, oh, I'll take her up some coal. Ten minutes later, Bindle surprised Queenie by appearing at the door of number eight with a pail full of coal. She stared at him in surprise. Bindle grinned. "'Here you are, Queenie,' he said cheerfully.

"'Now you'll be able to go to sleep with a bit in each, and maybe there'll be a bit over to put in your mouth.' "'Look here, don't you go calling me, Queenie? That ain't my name, so there!' And the girl banged the door in his face. "'She'll grow up just like Mrs. B., murmured Bindle as he slowly descended the stairs. and perhaps she can't even cook i wonder if she's religious sort of zoo this ere little old shouldn't be surprised if things was to happen before old charlie gets home 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 me 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 mindle's fertile brain however was not long in devising a means of relieving the monotony without compromising poor old 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 guard

which he found a sure defence against all complaints well queenie he remarked one evening to the maid at number eight i'm orff to catch the robbers what might carry you away i can see you catching a man snorted the girl scornfully sorry i can't return the compliment little love bird retorted bimble so long queenie had found her match two 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 noticein that he murmured to himself as he returned to the porter's lodge was you wanting it for long sir he inquired a month i think was the reply but three weeks oh 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 just like me? cried Bindle, his face wreathed and smiles. The stranger eyed Bindle nervously as he fumbled to retrieve the lost headgear,

looking like a dog, endeavoring to ascertain if he still possessed the tail. I was thinking of the other one, said Bindle. Yes, there's number six to let from next Monday. What is the rent? inquired the caller. Bindle, who had no idea of the rent of furnished flats, decided to temper eyes. All go and ask, sir, he said. What was you exactly wanting, and about what figure? Well, a bedroom, bathroom, 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 just come with me, sir, and I'll show you the very place you're wanting. number six consisted of two bedrooms a sitting-room bathroom and kitchen charlie hart had taken bindle over it explaining that miss cissy boy 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 surprise at bindle waving the question of references and a deposit but agreed that the smaller bedroom should be kept locked as contained the owner's personal possessions. Mrs. Stifson, 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 going to be a little story

for the nightclub, 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. J. Bez-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 specials uniform and go on duty. In short, he forgot everything, save the all-absorbing topic of Miss Sissy boy 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 hine with a nose like that retorted mrs sedge in no way displeased well don't be late in the morning, grinned Bindle. At 6.30, Mr. Jabez Stifson arrived with a bewildering collection of impedimenta, ranging from a canary in a cage to a thermos flask. Bindle put all that he could in the double-bedded room, the rest he managed to store in the kitchen. A slight difficulty arose over the canary. Mr. Stifson suggested the dining-room. "'Won't he sort of feel lonely without seeing you when he opened his little eyes?' questioned Bindle solicitously. A co-boy knew once had a canary which had a fit through being lonely,

and they had to throw water over him to bring him to. And then what do you think, sir? Mr. Stifson shook his head in mournful foreboding. He come to a sparrow he did, really, sir. That settled the canary who slept with Mr. Stifson. It was nearly eight before Mr. Stifson was settled, and he announced his intention of going out to dine. At ten he was ready for.

for bed, having implored Bindle to see that he was up by eight as Mrs. Stifson 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. Stifson 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. Stifson was a being of whom he stood in great awe. Just as Bindle was leaving for the night, Mr. Stifson called him back.

Porter, I'm worried about Oscar. Bindle noticed that Mr. Stifson's hands were moving nervously. Are you really, sir? inquired Bindle, wondering who Oscar might be. The bird, you know, continued Mr. Stifson, answering Bindle's unuttered question. You don't think it will be unhygienic for him to sleep with me? Sure of it, sir, replied Bindle, entirely at a lot. as to Mr. Stifson's meaning. Mr. Stifson 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. Stifson's bugbear in life was lest he should oversleep. He

seldom failed to wake of his own account, but constitutionally, lacking in self-reliance, he felt that at any moment he might commit the unpardonable sin of oversleeping. bindle returned to his room to await the arrival of miss cissy boy it was nearly midnight when his alert ear caught the sound of a taxi drawing up outside as he opened the outer door miss cissy boy 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 righto miss you go in there and sit by the fire we'll have things right in a jiffy and bindle proceeded to tackle miss boy'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 bendell went into his lodge miss boy 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-colored fluffy hair blue eyes dark eyebrows and lashes pretty petite features in 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 camper of yours upstairs to-night miss he remarked miss boy 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 have a rare lot of duds miss remarked bindle duds interrogated miss boy clothes miss explained bindle miss boy laughed lightly miss boy 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 boy among other things that she was appearing in the review at the regent theatre known as kiss me quick that she never ate suppers that she never ate suppers that she never ate suppers that she had she never ate suppers that she 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 Boy. They're such a funny lot here, he explained. If a floy wakes up too early or a bird as a nightmare, they comes down and complains next morning. Miss Boy laughed. Ash, miss, please, whispered Bindle as he switched on the electric light in the hall of number six. Bindle showed the new 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 Boy. You'll see him in the morning, miss, replied Bindle with a grin. Good night, miss. Good night, Mr. Porter, smiled Miss Boy, and she closed the door. Now I wonder if anything will happen before old whiskers gets up in the morning, mused Bindle as he descended the stairs to his room. End of Chapter 9.

Read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California. Shaggybark. blogspot.com Chapter 10 of The Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Liber Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 10. The Downfall of Mr. J. Bez-Stifson. one the next morning bindle let mrs sedge in at her usual time seven o'clock now mind mother he said four eggs and plenty of bacon and coffee number six has got an appetite add no supper poor 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 bindall stood watching her as she descended to the heart's kitchen

she's got an edpiece on her as old sedgy he muttered fancy er a tumbling to it like that an er still a full o royal richard having prepared and eaten his own breakfast bindel sat down and waited at five minutes past nine he rose it's time oscar and old 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 gon to be rare doings in number six to-day and it may mean that you lose your job you old reprobate at the head of the stairs of the second floor bindle stopped as if he had been shot old me orris he muttered if it ain't er running towards him was miss boy 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 what, miss? inquired 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 him lovely,' muttered Bindle. I suppose it's only a matter of taste. "'But where did he come from?' persisted Sissy Boy, excitedly. "'He must have been left behind by the other tenant,' said Bindle, grinning widely. "'I must see into this. Now you'd better get back, Miss. You mustn't go up and about like this or I'll lose my job.' "'Why, don't I look nice?' asked Miss Boy, Archley, looking down at herself.

that's jest it miss said bindle if number seven or number eighteen was to see you like that well anything might happen now we'll find out about this man what you think has got into your bath followed by miss boy bindle entered the outer door of number six as he did so mr stiffson emerged from the bathroom in a faded pink bathrobe and yellow felt slippers with a towel over his shoulder and a sponge in his hand he gave one startled glance past bindle at cissy boy and a faded pink bathrobe and yellow felt slippers with a towel over his shoulder and a sponge in his hand he gave one startled glance past bindle at cissy boy and with a strange noise in his throat turned and fled back into the bathroom bolting the door behind him isn't he a scream gurgled miss boy oh what would bobby say like a decree of fate bindle marched up to the bathroom door and knocked him curiously what is it inquired mr stiffson in a trembling voice it's me responded bindle sternly open the door sir if you please why can't have you a frighten this young lady tell her to go away, and then I'll come out, was the response. Miss Boy 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 Boy disappeared. She ain't here now, sir, he said, so you'd better come out. The bathroom door was cautiously opened, and Mr. Stifson

looked out with terror dilated eyes. "'Is she really?' "'Of course she is,' said Bindle reassuringly. "'Fancy you being afraid of a pretty little bit of fluff like that.' "'But she was in her?' "'Of course she was. She was going to have a rinse in there.' "'Bindle indicated the bathroom with his thumb. "'When you frightened her! Dirty trick of 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. Stifson, dashing for Bindle and endeavoring 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. Stifson—' There was a terror in Mr. Stifton's voice. On his forehead, beads of perspiration,

listened. "'What the wife don't see, the husband don't have to explain,' remarked Bindle oracularly. "'But she's in my flat,' persisted Mr. Mr. Stifson. "'Oh, you naughty old thing!' cried Sissy Boy. "'It's you who are in my flat.' "'But I came in last night,' quavered Mr. Stifson. "'So did I, didn't I, Mr. Porter?' She turned to Bindle for corroboration.

"'Take my dine oath on it, Miss,' said Bindle. "'But,' began Mr. Stifson, then stopped at loss how to proceed. "'Look here,' said Bindle pleasantly. "'There's been a little mistake, sort of a misunderstanding, and things have got a bit mixed up. You can say it's me what's done it if you like. Now you'd better both get dressed and come and have breakfast. Then turning to Mr. Stifson, he said,

Don't you think I'm eating your missus on an empty stomach? I'm married myself, and Mrs. B's as ought as ginger when there's another bit of skirt about. Sissy boys slowly approached Mr. Stifson. You're surely not afraid of little me, Mr. Man, she inquired, looking deliciously impudent. That was exactly what Mr. Stifton. that was exactly what mr stiffson was afraid of and he edged nearer to bindle but mrs stiffson he stammered regarding cissy boy like one hypnotized oh you naughty old thing admonished miss boy 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 and this young lady is willing to forgive and forget and you ain't a goin to hold out are you now you just run in a-you sir said bindle there's been a little mistake and this young lady is willing to forgive and forget and you ain't a goin to hold out are you now you just run and get rid of them petticoats come out looking like a man and then what oh for a nice little breakfast which'll all be over before your mrs 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 and what's more you'll like it bindle gently propelled the protesting mr stifson passed cissy boy towards his room don't forget now in a quarter of an hour i'll be up with the coffee and bacon and eggs you're a rare lucky cove sir only you don't know it i'm so hungry wailed cissy boy of course you are miss said bindle sympathetically i'll get a move on "'Girgled Sissy boy. "'Isn't he a perfect screen? "'But how did he get here, Mr. Porter?' "'Well, miss, the only wonder to me is that

"'Aff full of me ain't here to see you a-looking like that. "'Now you just get a rinse in your room and—' "'A rinse? What's that?' inquired Sissy. "'You does it with soap and water, Miss, "'and you might add a bit or two of lace, "'just in case the neighbours was to come in. "'Now I must be orf. "'Old Sedgey ain't at her best after them aft days with Royal Richard.

"'Now don't let him. nip off miss will you? Bindle added anxiously. He's that modest and retiring like that he might try. At that moment Mr. Stifson 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 Boy emerged from her room a vision of

loveliness in a pale blue tea gown, open at the throat with a flurry of white lace cascading down the front. There was a good deal of Sissy Boy visible in spite of the lace. She still wore her matinee cap with the blue ribbons and Bindle frankly envied Mr. Stifson. "'Now, sir,' he cried banging at the Lagerd's door, "'the coffee and the ladies waitin, and I want to feed Oscar. Mr. Stifson came out timidly. He evidently realized 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.

"'Moy, ain't we dressy!' cried Bindle, looking appreciatively at Mr. Stifson's trousers. "'You got her beaten with them bags, sir, or my name ain't Joe Bindle.' Mr. Stifson coughed nervously behind his hand. "'Now,' continued Bindle, "'you've got a good hour. Then we must see what's to be done. I'll keep the old bird away.' "'The old bird?' questioned Mr. Stifson in a thin voice as he opened the door. "'But Oscar is only—'

"'Ament your missis, sir,' explained Bindle. "'You leave her to me.' "'Come, Mr. Man,' cried Sissy Boy. Don't be afraid. I never eat men when there's eggs and bacon. Mr. Stifson motioned Vindle to accompany him into the sitting-room. I've got to see Oscar, said Vindle reassuringly. Now sit down, ordered Sissy Boy. Mr. Stifson seated himself on the edge of the chair opposite to her.

She busied herself with the coffee, bacon, and eggs. Mr. Stifson 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. Stifson sighed his relief. Oscar had had his breakfast. Now, Mr. Man, eat, commanded Sissy Boy, and, handing him a cup of coffee, drink. And be merry, sir, added Bindle, who entered at the moment. You're having the time of your life, and don't you forget it. Mr. Stifson looked as if the passage of censure.

would never permit him to forget and now i'll leave you little lovebirds said bindle with the cheerful assurance of a cupid and go and keep watch but pouted mr stiffson half rising from his chair oh do sit down old thing cried cissy you're spoiling my breakfast mr stiffson subsided destiny had clearly taken a hand in the affair now you just enjoy your little selves apostrophised bendell and then we'll try and find out how all this ere appened it does me blowed if it don't two i'm not aware that i speak indistinctly the voice was uncompromising the deportment aggressive i said mr jabas stiffson you did mum agreed bindle tactfully i urge 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 he's sort of engaged mum temporised bindle having breakfast i'll tell him your ear i'll break it gently to him you know mum joy sometimes kills and he 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 hurry she 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 hurry she did not hurry she had did not pause as she climbed evenly, mechanically, a model or wife seeking her mate.

Any doubts that Bindle may have had as to Mrs. Stifson'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 No. 6 moved Mrs. Stifson, 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. Stifson stimulated by the coffee, bacon and eggs, and the gay insouciance of Sissy Boy was finding the situation losing much of its terror for him. No man for long could remain indifferent to the charming

personality of Sissy Boy. Her bright chatter and good looks, her innocence strangely blended with worldly wisdom, her daring garb all combined to divert Mr. Stifson's mind from the thoughts of his wife, apart from which the clock pointed to five minutes past nine, and Mrs. Stifson was as punctual as fate. Had he possessed the intuition of a mongoose, Mr. Stifson would have known that there was a snake in his grass. Instinct guiding her steps, Mrs. Stifson 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 sissy boy 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. Stifson's face, Sissy boy ceased to clap her hands, and, turning her head, met Mrs. Stifson's uncompromising stare, and Bindle's appreciative grin. Jibis! It was like the uninflected accents of doom. Mr. Stifton 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. Stifson. "'I thought I told you to wear your tweed mixture to-day.' Mrs. Stifson had a fine sense of the dramatic. The unexpectedness of the remark caused Mr. Stifson to blink his eyes like a puzzled owl, without, however, removing them from his wife or changing their expression.

Sissy Boy laughed. Vindle grinned. "'Won't you sit down?' It was Sissy Boy who spoke. "'Silence, hussy!' There was no anger in Mrs. Stifson's voice. It was just a command and an expression of opinion. Sissy boy rose, the light of battle in her eyes. Bindle pushed past Mrs. Stifson and stood between the two women.

"'Look here, Mum,' he said. "'We likes manners in this here flat, and we're going to have them, see? Sorry if I hurt your feelings, 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 just be civil. Listen, cried Sissy Boyd 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 just leave her to me. I got one of my own at home. She's going to speak to me, she is. Mrs. Stifson's efforts of self-control were proving unequal to the occasion. Her breathing became labored and her voice husky. What is my husband doing in this person's flea? that demanded mrs stiffson apparently of no one in particular there was something like emotion in her voice well mum responded bindle he was eating bacon and eggs and drinking coffee how dare you appear before my husband like that mrs stifson turned fiercely upon cissy boy you brazen creature anger was now taking possession of her here easy on old thing said cissy boy seeing mrs stiffson's rising temper and entirely regaining her own good

humor. I repeat, said Mrs. Stifson. What is my husband doing in your company? Ask him what he's doing in my flat, countered Sissy Boy triumphantly. Look here, Mum, broke in Vindle in a soothing voice. It's no use of playing amlet in a rage. You just sit down and talk it over friendly like, and perhaps I can get a drop of old 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 will 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 husband 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 overpowering over

aroma of Royal Richard. In her hand she carried a large bowl of porridge, marching across to the table she dumped it down in front of Mr. Stifson. "'Ain there just like a man forgetting off what he ought to remember,' she remarked, and without waiting for her reply she stumped out of the room, banging the door behind her. Bindle sniffed the air like a hound. "'That's Royal Richard what you can smell, Mum,' he explained. Sissy Boy laughed. Ignoring the interruption, Mrs. Stifson returned to the attack. i demand an explanation her voice shook with suppressed fury listen cried cissy boy 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 cissy boy giggled so that is why you have put on your best clothes you deceiver you viper you scum steady on mum broke out bendell e ain't big enough to be all them things besides if you start some megaponing like that you'll have all the other bunnies er runnin to see what's appininin an if you was to ear number seven's language and see what queenie calls her 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 bathroom responded mr stiffson weekly mrs stiffson gasped and stood speechless with amazement i heard a splashing roared in sissy boy and i peeped in i only just peeped in really and really and then we had a little friendly chat in the all explained bindle and after breakfast we was going to talk things over and see how we could manage so that you didn't know "'Your bathroom!' roared Mrs. Stifson at length, the true horror of the situation at last seeming to dawn upon her. "'My husband in your bathroom? Jabez!' she turned on Mr. Stifson once more like a raging fury.

"'You heard! Were you in this creature's bathroom?' Mr. Stifson paused in the process of endeavoring to extract coffee from his exterior. "'Eh, eh!' he began. "'Ansar!' shouted Mrs. Stifson. "'Were you or were you not in this person's bathroom?' "'Yes, sir,' but,' began Mr. Stifson. Mrs. Stifson 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. Stifson half-rozen, 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.

Stifson's person, leaving a thin, filmy thread behind as if reluctant to cut off all communication with the basin. Bindle and Sissy Boy went to the victim's assistance, and Bindle removed the basin. It parted from Mr. Stifson's head with a juicy sob of reluctance. Whilst his rescuers were occupied in their Samaritan efforts, Mrs. Stifson 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 inquired why he had not been to the front. Mr. Stifson 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 had to be. hinted that he was to some extent answerable for the defection of Russia from the allied cause. Whilst she was haranguing, Bindle and Sissy Boy with the aid of dessert spoons were endeavouring to remove the porridge from Mr. Stifson's head. It

had collected behind his spectacles forming a succulent pad before each eye. Bindle listened to Mrs. Stifson's tirade with frank admiration. Language always appealed to him. "'Ain't she a corker?' he whispered to Sissyboy. corks 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 cissy boy made a movement towards her bindle laid an arresting hand upon her arm you just leave her be miss he said i know all about them little games she'll come to all right what in the hell is that damn porter the voice of number seven burst in upon them from the outer door here i am sir sang up bendell then why the corruption aren't you in your room bawled number seven bennel slipped quickly out into the corridor to find number seven bristling with rage because old damn an op-et i can't be in two places at once he said whilst bindle was engaged with number seven mrs stiffson had once more galvanized 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 her stopper 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 the lift stopped halfway between the two floors. Bindle and No. 7 shouted down instructions, but without a veil, the lift had stuck fast. Mrs. Stifson shrieked for help, shrieked for the police, and shrieked for vengeance.

Down to old Tiger Cat, cried No. 7. Leave her where she is! Bindle turned upon him a face radiating smiles. Nems, the best words I've heard from you yet, sir, and he walked upstairs to reassure the occupants of No. 6 that Fate and the Lift had joined. the intent against Mrs. Stifson. It was four hours before Mrs. Stifson was free, but Mr. Stifson, his luggage, his thermos flask, and Oscar had fled. Sissy Boy was at rehearsal and Bindle had donned his uniform. It was a chastened Mrs. Stifson who wheeled out of the

lift and inquired for her husband, and it was a stern and official Bindle who told her that Mr. Stifson had gone and warned her that any further attempt at disturbing the cloistral piece of full of fulham square mansions would end in a prosecution for disorderly conduct and mrs stiffson departed in search of her husband end of chapter ten read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark dot blogspot dot com chapter eleven of the adventures of bindle by herbert jenkins this libervox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins Chapter 11. The Camouflaging of Mr. Gupperduck. One. 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 air.

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, Yes, it's the scarlet horse 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 every one and everything whilst old 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 God for not being religious.' He paused to light his pipe. Ginger murmured something that might have been taken either as an interrogation or a protest. "'I just been having a stroll on Putney Heath,' continued Vindle, settling himself down comfortably in the corner of a bench.

"'I likes to give the gals a treat now and then, and who do you think I saw there?' he paused impressively. Ginger shook his head, Huggles grinned, and Wilkes coughed. Wilkes was always coughing. Clever lot of 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 making an ell of a row they was,

and there in the middle was a cove talking and waving his arms like flappers, so up by goes thinking he was selling something to prove that you haven't got a liver, and who should it turn out to be but my lodger, old guppy? "'What was he doing?' gasped Wilkes between two paroxysms. "'Well,' continued Bindle, "'at that particular moment I got up, "'he was talking about what a fine lot of chaps them un's is, "'and what an awful lot of Aunt Maddies we was.

"'Sort of hurt his feelings it did "'to know he was an Englishman when he might have been an un. "'He was just a saying something about Mr. Llewell and John "'when he disappears sudden-like, and there was a rare old scrap. when the police got him out lord he was a sight never thought ten minutes would change a cove-so and that ginger all comes about through being a christian and talking about peace to people what don't want peace we all want peace ginger stuck out his chin aggressively ginger there was reproach in bindle's voice and you a soldier too i'm surprised at you i want this ready war to end growled ginger i don't old with war he added as an afterthought now what does it matter to you jinge whether you're a carrying 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 and we ain't sittin on germany's chest yet got it but they're willing to make peace growled ginger i don't old wi fangin back

now you just listen to me why didn't you make peace last week with pincher nobs instead of fighting him he's a ruddy toy-tock he is snarled ginger well remarked bindle you can call the germans ruddy toykes pleasant way you got a-putting things haven't you jing no old son this ere war ain't a-goin to end until you've got the v c that's what we're o'n out for they could make peace if they liked persisted ginger you won't get Llewell and John to give in, Ginge," said Bindle confidently. "'E's aught stuff he is.' "'Yes,' growled Ginger savagely. "'All he's got to do is stay at home and read about what us chaps are doing out there.' "'Now, why, you a regular old yellow-edded uggins?' remarked Bindle with conviction, as he gazed fixedly at Ginger, whose eyes shifted about restlessly.

"'While he's always at work he is, don't even have his dinner hour, he don't.' "'What?' Ginger's incredulity gave expression to his features. No, dinner hour? No, for breakfast time neither, he continued Vindle. There's always a lot of co-s hanging around to wanting to talk about the war and what to do next. When he's shaving egg will ring him up.

Emma standing with the lather on, making his chin itch. Ginger banged down his pewter on the counter and ordered another. Then sometimes, when he's getting up in the morning, George V will nip round for a jaw, and of course kings can go anywhere, and you mustn't keep him waiting. So up he goes, and there's L.J. talking to himself as he tries to get into his collar, and George V. A. Elp. and to find his collar stud when he drops it, and it rolls under the chest of drawers. Ginger continued to gaze at Bindle with surprise,

stamped on his freckled face. You got a kid's job to is, Ginge, continued Bindle, warming to his subject. If Llewell and John ups around the corner for a drink in to have a look at the papers thereafter em in two licks why he's had to give up his aught bath on saturday nights because he was always catching cold through nipping out into the awl to answer the telephone em in only a smile and his whiskers ginger spat indecision marking the act works like a blackleg he does and all he gets is black garden no added vindle solemnly don't you never change jobs with em jingge it'd kill you it would really i don't old with w grumbled ginger, falling back upon his main line of defense. Look at the price of beer! He gazed moodily into the depths of his empty pewter. Bonicove, you are, Ginge, said Bindle pleasantly. Ginger spat viciously missing the spatoon by inches.

There ain't no pleasing you, continued Bindle, digging into the bowl of his pipe with a matchstick. You ain't willing to die for your country and you don't seem to want to live for the twins. What's the use of twins? demanded Ginger. savagely. Now if they'd been goats. Goats, queried Bindle. Sell the milk, was Ginger's laconic explanation. They might have been billy-goats, suggested Bindle. Ginger swore. Well, well, remarked Bindle as he rose. You ain't never going to be appy in this world, Ginge. And as to the next, who knows? Now I must be orf to tell Mrs. B what they've been a-doing to Erlaugger. So long. And he went out whistling, I'd never kissed a soldier till the war. Two. Well, is Mr. Gupperduck?

There was anxious alarm in Mrs. Bindle's interrogation. Well, responded Bindell as he nodded to Mr. Hardy and waved his hand to Mrs. Hardy. I can't rightly say. He may be happy with an Arp in Evan, or he may be a groaning in an hospital with a poultice where his face ought to be. Where's Millikins? he demanded, looking round. She's with her Aunt Rose, wheezed Mrs. what has happened to joseph faltered mr harty well it ain't altogether easy to say responded bindle with aggravating deliberation it ought to have been a peace-meeting according to plan but somehow or other things sort of got mixed up 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 hardy 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 him being taken off on a stretcher and what he was wearing wouldn't have made a bathing suit for an otin tot did they kill him joe wheezed mrs hardy you can't kill coves like guppy martha was bindle's response he's got more lives than a rate collector.

What happened, Joseph? said Mr. Hardy. I had meant to go to that meeting myself. Mr. Hardy made the statement as if Providence had interposed with the deliberate object of saving his life. Lucky for you, Wardy, that you didn't, remarked Bindle significantly. You ain't no good at scrapping. We'll all tell you what happened. Guppie seems to have said a little too much about the un's and what fine fellas they

was, and it's sort of giving them people what was. listening to Pip, so they goes for Guppy." The cowards, Mrs. Bindle snapped out the words venomously. You got to remember, Lizzie, said Bindle with unwanted seriousness, that lot of those people had lost them what they was fond of through this ear war, and they wasn't keen to ear that the un was a sort of picture postcard with a dove sitting on his helmet. What did you do? demanded Mrs. Bindle aggressively.

Well, I just looked on, said Bindle calmly. i've warned guppy mourn once that he'd lose his tail feathers if he wasn't careful but he was that self-willed he was you can't throw unwash over crowds in this here country without running risks bindle spoke with conviction but it's a free country joseph protested mr harty rather weakly oh arty arty said bindle wagging his head despondently when will you learn that no one ain't free to say to a cove things won't make him wild leastwise without being ready to put his hands up but weren't any of his friends there inquired mrs bindle aw see two of em said bindle with a reminiscent grin they caught old cap and whiskers just as he was shinning up a tree rare cove for trees he seems awed him down they did then swore he'd never seen old guppy and all his puff cried about it he did peter muttered mrs bindle that is name inquired bindle anyhow it didn't help him for they pulled his whiskers out and dipped him in the pond and when lest i see him he was wearing just a big bruise a soft collar and such bits of his 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 a sort of pals with him, he remarked. He was a traitor, a peter betraying his master, Bindle looked puzzled.

Mr. Hardy nodded his head in approval. Was Mr. Wieskin there? asked Mrs. Bindle. The little chap with the glasses and a beard too big for him what goes about with old cap and whiskers? Mrs. Bindle nodded. Well, he got arff trousers and all, said Bindle with a grin. Nippy little Colby was, he added. Oh, the brutes! exclaimed mrs bindle the cowards well remarked bindle it all come about through em trying to give them treacle when they wanted curry perhaps he's gone home mrs bendell half rose as the thought struck her ho guppy interrogated bindall yes mr gupperduck said mrs bendell eagerly

"'Cupy ain't never coming back to my place,' Bindle announced with decision. "'Where's he to sleep, then?' demanded Mrs. Bindle. "'Well,' remarked Bindle judicially, "'by what I last see of him he ain't going 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 hardy looked at bindle arrested by the unwonted determination in his voice you just remember this mrs bie continued bindle if ever i catches mr josiah gupparduck or any other cove what loves germans as if they was ems or beer round my place things'll happen what they done to him in the eath won't be nothing to what i'll do to him in fenton street you're a brute bindle was mrs bindle's comment that may be but you just get his duddy's duddy's packed up, including wheezy-willie and give him to him when he calls. I ain't going to have no German spies round my backyard. I ain't got no money to put in tanks,' Bindle added, but I still got a fist to knock down a cove what talks about peace. Bindle rose and yawned. Now I'm orf. Come and Mrs. Bury, he inquired. No, I'm not. I want to talk to Mr. Harty, said Mrs. Bindle angrilyly. Well, so long all. And Bindle went out, leaving Mrs. Bindle and Mr. Harky 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 and Fenton Street, I'll camouflage him, I will, and with that he was gone. I suppose, he remarked meditatively as he walked across Putney Bridge, what happened tonight is what Guppie had called the piece what passes all understanding. End of Chapter 11, read by Don W. jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, shaggybark. blogspot.com. Chapter 12 of the Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 12. The tragedy of Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino. One. Hello, 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 meeting you what have you been doing bindle was engaged in fetching the sunday dinner-bear according to the time-honored custom scratcher looked moodily at the barman ordered a glass of beer and turned to bindle i changed my job he remarked mysteriously what you're doing inquired 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 yes at Napoleones 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 tanker but don't you have to be a foreigner to be a waiter "'Don't you have to speak through your nose or something?' "'No,' and Scratcher's voice was the contempt of superior knowledge. "' Them vernoners all gone to the war are most of them,' he added, "'and so we get a look in.' "'What do you do?' inquired Bindle.

"'Oh, we just take orders and serves the grub and makes out the bills and 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 leave something in the bottles. Last night old Grandpa got so squiffy he cried about his mother, he did. And it didn't cost him anything? inquired Ginger, who had been an interested listener. Not a copper, said Scratcher impressively. Not a brass farting. I wish this ready war was over, growled Ginger. Four pound a week in a free drink. Blast the war, I said,

I don't owe with killing. Then, continued Scratcher, you can always get a bellyful. There's— "'Old ard, Scratcher,' interrupted Bindle. "'What place is it you're talking about?' "'Napolini's,' replied Scratcher, looking at Bindle reproachfully. "'Go on, old sport, it's all right,' said Bindle resignedly. "'I thought you might have got mixed up with Evan.'

"'When you take the stew,' continued Scratcher, you can always pick out a bit of meat with your fingers if it ain't too ought he added as if not wishing to exaggerate and when it's white bait you can pinch some when no one's lookin as for potatoes you can have all you can eat in soup well it's there scratcher's tone implied that mappolini's was literally running with soup and potatoes don't go on scratcher said bindle mournfully see what you're doing to poor old jinge then there's mcatcher's mrs "'Macaroni,' continued Scratcher, relentlessly. "' Them being Italians, long strings of white stuff, there ain't much taste, but it fills up.' Scratcher paused, then added reflectively, "'You got to be careful with macaroni, or it'll get down your collar. It's that slippery.' "'I suppose old Knapp ain't wanting anyone to help mop up all them things,' inquired Bindle wistfully.

Scratcher looked at Bindle interrogatingly. "'Do you think you could find your old pal of John? at naps inquired Vindle. You come down to-morrow morning about eleven, said Scratcher, with the air of one conferring a great favor. Three of our chaps was sacked a Saturday for fighting. Well, I must be moving, said Bindle, as he picked up the blue and white jug with the crimson butterfly. You'll see me around at naps at eleven tomorrow, Scratcher, as empty as a drum. And with a slong, 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, and 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've been after a job.' "'You lost your job again, then?' cried Mrs. Bindle in accusing tones. "'Something told me you had?'

"'Well, I ain't,' retorted Bindle. "'But I erred a something better, "'so on Monday I'm orf after a job "'what'll be better in Artie's Evan.' "'Bindle declined further to satisfy "'Mrs. Bindle's curiosity. "'You wait and see, Mrs. Bates, "'you just wait and see.'

"'Two. On the following morning, "'Bindle was duly enrolled as a waiter at Mapillini'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 mustache. Bindle had not been three minutes under his direction before he precipitated a crisis

that almost ended in open warfare. What's your name, old son? he inquired. Moines Bindle, Joseph Bindle. Giuseppe Antonio Tolmanichino, 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 here, old sport, I'll call you Kaiser!'

In a flash, Giuseppe Antonio Tomonichino turned upon Bindle, his mustache 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 center of an angry crowd of excited gesticulating waiters, with Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino screaming his fury in the center.

"'Hoy!' called Bindle to Scratcher, who appeared through the service door, just as matters seemed about to break into open violence. "'Ear! Scratcher! What's up? Call him wharf!' "'What did you call you? call him joe inquired scratcher pushing his way through the crowd i asked his name and then he went off like the mad minute so i said i'd call him kaiser because of his whiskers at the repetition of the obnoxious word jeseppe antonio tomenichino 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, Scratchers succeeded in restoring peace. Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino's Fortissimo reproaches were reduced to piano murmurs by the

explanation that Bindle meant no harm, added to which Bindle apologized. Look here, he said, genuinely regretful at the effect of his remark. How was I don't know that you was that sensitive, you looking so fierce, too? The arrival of one of the superintendents put an end to the dispute. but it was obvious that Giuseppe Antonio Tomonichino nourished in his heart a deep resentment against Bindle for his unintentioned insult. Fancy him taken 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 inquired,

What the hell am I going to call him? "'Call who?' inquired Scratcher, his mouth full of something. Bindle looked about warily. "'Old Kaiser,' he whispered. "'He's that sensitive. Explodes if you looks at him, he does.' Scratcher worked hard to reduce the contents of his mouth to conversational proportions. "'I can't never remember his name,' continued Bindle. "'Went off like a rattle it did.'

"'Don't know his name myself,' said Scratcher, after a gigantic swallow. "'He's new.' "'Wouldn't help you much, old. son, if you did know it, said Bindle with conviction, seemed to me like a patent gargle, never heard anything like it. Here, said Bindle, to Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino, who was darting past on his way to another table, the Italian paused, hatred smoldering in his dark eyes. I can't remember that name of yours, old sport, said Bindle. Sorry, but I ain't a gramophone. What have I got to call you?

Call me, sir, replied Giuseppe Antonio, Tomonichino, with dignity. Call you what? cried Bindle indignantly. Call you what? Call me sir, repeated the Italian. May call a foreigner, sir? cried Bindle. Now ain't you the funniest old uggins? Giuseppe Antonio Tomanichino cast upon Bindle a look of consuming hatred. Look here, remarked Bindle cheerfully. If he goes about a looking like that you'll spoil the good impression them whiskers make. Murder flashed in the eyes of the Italian as he round out a paralyzing oath in his own tongue.

There's a going to be trouble between me and old okey-pokey. Pleasant sort of cove to have about the ouse. Customers began to drift in, and soon Bindle was kept busy fetching and carrying for Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino, who by every means in his power strove to give expression to the hatred of Vindel 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 hungry, though I could drink a deal more. Still, I says nothing about that,

but as for tips, well, old okey-pokes pocketed every bloomin penny. When I asked him to divvy up fair, he started that machine gun in his tummy, rolled his eyes and seemed to be trying to tell me what a great lichen he'd taken to me. One of these days, something's going to happen to him, added Bindle prophetically. He ain't no sport anyhow. What's he done? inquired Scratcher. I offered to fight him for the tips, and all he did was to turn on his 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 in 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 chef, Bindle came into direct contact with a customer and received an order, he invariably found himself utterly at a loss. "'Buyabas de Marseilles' POMs Sautes,' called out one customer. Bindel, who was

hurrying past, came to a dead stop and regarded him with interest. "'Do you mind saying that again, sir?' he remarked. "'Buyabase de Marseilles' POMs Sautes,' repeated the customer. "'Well, I'm blowed,' was Bindel's comment. the customer stared, but before he had time to reply, Bindle was unceremoniously pushed aside by Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino, who pad in hand bent over the customer with servile intentness. What did he mean? Was he telling me his name? inquired Bindle of a laugh-like youth, with frizzy hair and a face incapable of expressing anything beyond a meaningless grin.

It was Scratcher, however, who told the puzzled Vindle that the customer had been ordering lunch and not divulging his identity. Boli Bays de Marsalis poem sortie is things we eat, Joe, he explained. You got to learn the main you. Well, I'm blowed, was Bindel's sole comment. Fancy people eating things with names like that. He followed Giuseppe Antonio Tomonichino

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 sight of the customer whose wants he had found himself unable to comprehend. "'New to this job?' he inquired. "'You've got it, sir,' was Bindle's reply. "'New as new. I'm in the furniture-moving-line myself, but Scratcher told me this ear was a soft job, and so I took it on. He didn't happen to mention okey-pokey, however.'

"'Okey-poky?' interrogated the guest. "'That chap with his whiskers growing up his nose,' explained Bindle. Can't say anything without urtness feelings. Never come across such a cove. Later, when the customer left, it was to Bindle and not to Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino that he gave his tip. This precipitated a crisis. Once out of the dining-room the Italian demanded of Bindle the money. You shall have aft, old son, said Bindle magnanimously. If you forks out aff of what you've had given to you, see? Giuseppe Antonio Tomenichino did not see. His eyes snapped, his mustache bristled, his sallow features took on a shade of gray, and discarding English he launched into a torrent of words in his own tongue. Vindel stood regarding his antagonist

much as he would a juggler or quick-change artist. His good-humored calm seemed to goad Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino to madness. With a sudden movement, he seized a bottle from another waiter and brandishing it above his head, rushed at Vindle. Vindle stepped swiftly aside, but in doing so managed to place his right foot across Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino's path. The Italian lurched forward, bringing down the bottle with paralyzing force upon the shoulder of another waiter, who, heavily laden, was making towards the dining room. The assaulted waiter screamed. Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino 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 bendell in describing the scene afterwards poor old oki-poki comes down on his back and a lot of tomato soup falls on his head then a dish of white bait gets on top of that so he has soup and fish anyhow funny thing to see them little fishes sticking out of the red soup he got an airing down his collar and a dish of macaroni in his ear and all his clothes was covered with different things an old blooming manu he was holy angels but he was a sight. For a moment, Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino lay inert. Then he slowly sat up and looked about him, mechanically picking white bait out of his hair, and removing a crim 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 Sigisman, the chief superintendent, entered. He was a heavy man of ponderous proportions, with dundreary whiskers in a pompous manner. His entrance brought him directly into the line of Giuseppe Antonio Tolmenichino's attack. Before he could take in the situation, the Italian's head, covered with tomato soup and bristling with white bait, caught him full in the center 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 Giuseppe Antonio Tolmanichino

onto the chief superintendent. White bait forsook the Ibn locks of the waiter and dived into the magnificent dundries of Hare Smith, and on his shirt front was the impression of Giuseppe Antonio Tolmanichino's features in tomato soup. Without a moment's hesitation, Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino 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 Italians screamed with the pain, but Bindle held fast. You ain't safe to be trusted about, old sport, he remarked, and I got to old you until old whiskers decides what's going to be done. You'll get six months for wasting food like this. Why, you looks like a blooming restaurant. Look at him, Bindle gazed down at the prostrate superintendent. and knocked his wind out, you have.

Struck him bang in the solar plexus, blowed if you didn't. With rolling eyes and foaming mouth, Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino screamed his maledictions. A group of waiters was bending over a hair smith. One was administering brandy, another was plucking white bait 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. One 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 Giuseppe Antonio Tomonichino. He uttered the one significant British word. Belize! When Giusepio Antonio Tominichino left Napolini's that night,

it was in the charge of two policemen, with two more following to be prepared for eventualities. Giuseppe Antonio Tomonichino was what is known professionally as violent. Not satisfied with the food that was plastered upon his person, he endeavored 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. "'Poor all loki-poki!' remarked Bindle as he returned to the dining-room, where he had been allotted two tables, for which he was to be entirely responsible. Poor old loki-poki, I'm afraid I got his goat, but didn't he make a mess of old 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 25 years, he cannot with impunity be rammed in the solar plexus by a hard-headed and vigorous Italian. While Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino, 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 endeavored to emulate his confreras. On one occasion he set out from the the dining room with three dishes containing respectively cayenne in 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 bendell'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 endeavor to reach the underplate, on which reposed the kaila and cassero, 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 Welch rare bit, which slid off the plate onto his lap. Greatly concerned, Bindle placed the empty Welch rarebit plate quickly on the table and seizing a fork, stabbed the errant and romantic quail, placing it upon its plate. He then went to the assistance of the gentleman who had received the Welch rare bit

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 hope you ain't hurt, Mum, he said with genuine solicitude. I didn't see where he was going, Slippy 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 collet and 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 what, sir?' interrogated Bindle, lifting the plate to his nose. "'I don't smell it, sir,' he added seriously. "'I ordered Calais and casserole,' responded the man. "'You bring me Calais in Coquot.'

"'Do 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 Calais guest, he launched into a volley of reproaches. Mondeu! 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 Calais and 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 reheated and returned on a clean plate. "'This here all comes about through these coves want and foreign food,' muttered Bindle to himself. "'If they'd all have a cut from the joint and two veggies, it'd be just as simple as drinking beer.

"'And ain't they touchy too?' he continued. "'Can't say a word to him but what they flies up and wants to scratch each other's eyes out.' Tranquility restored, Vindall continued his ministrations. For half an hour everything went quietly until two customers ordered ginger beer, one electing to drink it and eat, 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 crocs. there's anything funny about it comes and sits down at one of my tables right out sir coming 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 number 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 bendell lifted it from its receptacle wound a napkin around 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 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 Mulligotani. Bindle was gazing from one to the other in astonishment. Fancy champagne behaving like that, he muttered, might have been a stone ginger in aught weather. At that moment, the superintendent discovered the wine-cooler

full of hot water. One passionate question he leveled 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 hailed him off to the manager's room, there to be formally discharged. "'Oh, 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 notebook from his pocket.

"'What is your name and address?' he asked the Bindle. Bindle gave the necessary details, adding, "'Ama Special, Fulham District, what's up?' "'You will be wanted at Marlborough Street Police Court tomorrow at ten with regard to,' he referred to his notebook. "'A charge against Giuseppe Antonio Tominichino,' said the inspector. "'What's he going to be charged with, assault and battery?' inquired Bindle curiously. "'Under the defense of the Realm Act,' replied the inspector.

"'Duciments were found on him.' bindle whistled well i'm blowed a spy i never did trust them sort of whiskers he muttered as he left the manager's room five minutes later he left napalini's forever whistling at the stretch of his powers so the lodger pawned his second pair of boots End of Chapter 12. Read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, Shaggybark. Blogspot.com Chapter 13 of The Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins.

Chapter 13. The return of Charlie Dixon. Oh, Uncle Joe! Charlie's back, and he's going to take us out tonight, and I'm so happy. Bindle regarded the flushed and radiant face of Millie Hartie, who had just rushed up to him and now stood holding onto his arm with both hands. I thought I should catch you as you were going home, she cried. Uncle Joe, I think I want to cry. Well, remarked Bindle, if you'll give your poor old uncle a chance to get a word in edgeways, he'd like to ask you 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 dryly. Still, it's a funny sort of reason for wanting 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 Millenie. milly's voice was too obvious to need the confirmation of the sudden downward group 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 lovebirds won't miss me he remarked rather lamely but we shan't go unless you do said milly with an arab 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 me?"

Vindle 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 realized the blank in his own life. "'Perhaps his nibs might like to have you all to himself 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 caf 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 have caught cold he muttered then added of course i might be able to put that job off but don't you want to come uncle joe asked milly 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 just asking me because you thought it'd please your old uncle he concluded somewhat lamely oh uncle joe cried milly how could you think anything so dreadful why wasn't it you who gave me charlie bendell looked curiously at her he was always discovering in his niece naive little touches that betokened the dawn of womanhood ain't we be comin a woman millikins he cried whereat millie blushed thank you so much for promising to come she cried seven o'clock at puckney 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 promising nothing he muttered ain't that jest milikins all over a twistin her poor old uncle round her little finger fancy arty havin a gal like that he turned in the direction of fenton street it's like an old inn having a canary funny place evan 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 of yellow gloves and an ard at would make a duke out of a drain man hello general he cried as sergeant charles dixon entered the station with a more than ever radiant milly clinging to his arm steady now young fellow cautioned bindle as he hesitatingly extended his hand no pinching charlie dixon laughed the hardiness 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 mrs milly you see she added with a wise air of possession you belong to us both now

what oh remarked bindle going going gone and cheap at a f the price ere no you don't by a dexterous dive he anticipated charlie dixon's movement towards the ticket window a moment later he returned with three white tickets oh uncle joe cried milly 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 what Artie thinks of him now, muttered Bindle. Filled out, he has. Wonderful what 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, and what do you think of his nibs? I think he's lovely, Uncle Joe, said Millie, blushing and nestling.

closer to her lover. Not much chance for your old 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 an entreaty in her look and distress in her voice. You don't think that, do you? Really? Vindle's reassurances were interrupted by the arrival of the train. Millie became very silent as if odd by the unaccustomed splendor of traveling 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 Hardy, the world that evening had become transformed into a place of roses and of honey. If life held the thorn, she was not conscious of it. For her, no yesterday and there would be no tomorrow. Boy, 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 what she's thinking about, Bindle muttered. Right, oh, Millikins, he said aloud. You got two young men tonight, and you needn't be afraid of them scrapping.

as they entered the universal caf with its brilliant lights and gaily chattering groups of diners milly caught her breath to her it seemed a nirvana brought up in the narrow circle of mr hardy's theological limitations she saw in the long dining-room a gilded palace of sin against which mr hardy pronounced his anathemas as they stood waiting for a vacant table she gazed about her eagerly how wonderful it would be to eat whilst the 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 fingernails. 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-six-penny 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 there. Millie smiled her acquiescence. Bindle not to be outdone in Savois fair picked up the menu and regarded it with wrinkled brow. "'Well, Charlie,' he remarked at length, "'it's beyond me. "'I suppose it's all right, "'but it might be the German for cat and dog

"'for all I know. "'I hopes,' he added anxiously, "'there ain't none of them long white sticks "'with green tops what's always trying to kiss their tails. "' Them things does me.' "'Asparagus?' cried Millie, proud of her knowledge. "'I love it.' "'I ain't nothing against it,' said Bendell,

"'recalling his experience at Oxford. "'If they didn't expect you to suck it like a sugar-stick, you want some mouth as big as a dust-bin if you're going to catch the end when the wine arrived charlie dixon breathed the sigh of relief as he recognized in its foam and amber an old friend with which he had become acquainted in france oh what is it cried milly clasping her hands in excitement champagne said charlie dixon oh charlie cried milly gazing at her lover and proud wonder isn't it isn't it most awfully expensive charlie dixon laughed bindle looked at him inquisically. "'Ain't he a knockout?' he cried. "'Might be a duke, a-co-order and champagne, as if it was lemonade, or a porth and a penworth.' "'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 nothing to do with it,' replied Vindle. "'You're grown up now, Millicans, and you've got to decide things for yourself.' and milly hearty drank champagne for the first time when coffee arrived charlie dixon who had been singularly quiet during the meal exploded his mind it came about as the result of bindle's inquiry 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 what is it that you wants i want milly to marry me before i go back the words came out with a rush milly looked at charlie

Charlie Dixon, wide-eyed with astonishment. Then as she realized 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 in, 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...

Oh, Charlie, I... began, Millie, then her voice broke. Look here, you kids, broken Bindle. It ain't no good you two set in a stut. in 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 of nights wondering when you'd have the pluck to tell each other so, and here you are. He broke off. Now look here, 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. Rather, responded Charlie Dixon with alacrity. "'Then what you want to make all this bloomin' fuss about?' demanded Bindle. "'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 he likes better, or you may see a cove what 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. know everything there is to be known about weddings and loving and all the rest of it now look here millikins are you going to send this ear boy back to france unappie oh uncle joe quavered milly well you say you want to marry him and he wants to marry you if you don't marry him before he goes back to the front he'll be unappie won't you charlie it'll be rotten said charlie dixon with conviction there you are millikins how's he going to beat the kaiser if he's miserable. Now what's up against you to beat the Kaiser by Marion Charlie Dixon? Are you going 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 old Kaiser in. But father uncle Joe, protested Millie, what will he say? Artie, responded Bindle with conviction, will say about all the most unpleasant and uncomfortable things what any man can think of, but you leave him 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 how to manage him, Millikins,' Bindle continued. "'Now you be a good gal and go home and ask him 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 Mendel resignedly. "'The Germans'll beat us.' Millie smiled in spite of herself. I'll try, Uncle Joe, she conceded. Now look here, Millikins, you goes home tonight and you says to that appy-arted old daddy yours, Father, I'm going to marry Charlie Dixon next Tuesday or whatever day you fix.

He'll say you ain't going to do no such thing. Millie nodded her head in agreement. Well, continued Vindle, what you'll say is, I won't marry no one else and I'm going to marry Charlie Dixon. Then you just nips round to Fenton Street and leaves the rest to me. If you two kids ain't married on the day what you fix on, then I'll eat my hat. Yes, the one I'm wearing and the concertina. But I got it home.

Eat them both, I will. Millie and Charlie Dixon looked at Vindle 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 Dickson shook his head. The question was beyond him. We shall never be able to thank you, Uncle Joe, said. said Millie. "'You'll thank me by being just as happy as you know how, 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 our. Here's the band to go on home, and they'll be putting 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.

Goodbye, darling, I'll write tomorrow. And you will, Millie? inquired 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 just make all your plans, young fella, he said.

Let me know the day and 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 fellow, when I wish I was your enemy, he said as he gazed ruefully at his knuckles. Your friendship hurts like L! End of Chapter 13. Read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, Shaggybark. Blogspot.com Chapter 14 of The Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins.

This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 14. Mr. Harty yields. God started making a man and then sort of losing interest. He made Orty. "'That's what I think of your brother-in-law, 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. "'He'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 what do you think he's done now demanded Bindle as he went to the sink and filled the 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 inquired mrs Bindle at length too curious longer to remain quiet Bindle turned from the sink soap suds forming a rim around 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. He says Millikins ain't going to marry Charlie Dixon. There was anger in Bindle's voice. You're a nice one, commented Mrs. Bindle. Always sneering at marriage and now you're blaming Mr. hearty because he won't. Well, I'm blowed, Bindle wheeled round, his good humor reasserting itself. I hadn't thought of 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 just it it. One of the funniest things. I ever come across. Here's me a telling everybody about this chamber of orders what we call marriage and blessed if I ain't a trying to shove poor old Charlie Dixon in and shut the door on him." Bindle grinned expansively. "'Supper'll be ready in five minutes,' said Mrs. Bindle with indrawn lips. "'Rito!' cried Bindle as he made for the door. "'I'm going to get into my uniform before I opts round to see Artie. It's wonderful what a bit of blue cloth and a peat cap'll do with a cove like Artie,

especially when I happens 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. Bunny thing, he remarked at length, I can swallow most things from stewed steak to half-cooked ems,

but already just sticks in my gills. lizard. You're jealous. That's what you are, remarked Mrs. Bindle with conviction. A man what could be jealous of Artie, said Bintel, ain't safe to be let out, only on a chain. Why don't he try and bring a little happiness down here instead of saying it's all in heaven, with you and Emma sitting on the lid, makes life like an adduck what's been reduced in price, it does. What are you going to say to Mr. Harty? inquired Mrs. Bindle suspiciously. Well, remarked Bindle, that depends, rather on what Artie's going to say to me. You've no right to interfere in his affairs.

You're quite right, Mrs. B, remarked Bindle. That's what makes it so pleasant. I haven't got no right to punch Artie's head, but one of these days I know I shall do it. Never see an head in all my life what looked so inviting as Arties. Seems they crying out to be punched, it does. You didn't ought to go around upsetting him, said Mrs. Bindle aggressively. He's got enough troubles. He's going to have another tonight, Mrs. Bindle. and if he ain't careful he'll probably have another tomorrow night mrs bindle banged the lid on a dish you ain't against them kids a get married are you bindle demanded you used to be sort of fond millikins no i'm not against it but i'm not going to interfere in mr harty'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 hearty's house milly opened the door "'Oh, Uncle Joe!' she cried.

"'I wondered whether you would come.' "'Quarse I'd come, Millikins,' said Bindle. "'Now you just run and tell your father that I want to have a little talk with him in the drawing-room. Then you'll turn on the light and behave as if as 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. Harty entered.

from the movement of his fingers it was obvious that he was ill at ease hello artie said bendell genially good evening joseph responded mr harty great good inquired bendell conversationally quite good thank you joseph was the response going to open any more shops was the next question mr hardy shook his head bendell sucked contentedly at his pipe won't you sit down artie he asked solicitously mr harty shook his head bendell sucked contentedly at his pipe won't you sit down artie he asked solicitously mr hart sat down mechanically then a moment later rose to his feet now artie said Bindle you and me are going to have a little talk about Millikins mr. Harty stiffened visibly I don't understand he said you just wait a minute Artie and you'll understand a rare lot now are you or are you not going to let them kids get married most emphatically not said mr. Hardy with decision Millie is too young she's not twenty yet now ain't you just tiresome Artie here of

I've been arranging for the wedding for next Tuesday, and you go and say it ain't coming off. You should have told me this before. But really only asked me this morning, protested Mr. Hardy, whose literalness always placed him at a disadvantage with Bindle. Did she really? remarked Vindle. Dear me and she knew she was going to get married last night. Never could understand women, he remarked, shaking his head hopelessly. Mr. Harty was at a loss. He had been prepared for unpleasantness, but this geniality on the the part of his brother-in-law he found a 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, Artie, agreed Bindled you neelie. Quite right, you said it in them very words. Bindle's imperturbability caused Mr. Hardy to look at him anxiously. Then why do you come here to-night, and, and? He broke off nervously. I was always like that, Artie, never seemed able to take no for an answer. Now what are you going to give them?

them for a wedding breakfast he inquired and have we got to bring our own meat tickets i have just told you joseph remarked mr hardy angrily that they are not going to be married now ain't that a pity remarked bindle as having refilled his pipe he proceeded to light it now i ain't that a pity i been and fixed all up with charlie dixon and now ere you are a upsetting of my plans i don't like my plans upset arty i don't really mr hardy looked at bindle in a-mation 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 wedding Artie There ain't time for that and just a nice pleasant little wedding breakfast a cake of course you must have a cake no woman don't feel she's married without a cake She'd sooner have a cake than an husband I tell you Joseph that I shall not allow merely to marry this young man on Tuesday I am very busy and I must i shouldn't go artie if i was you i shouldn't really i should just stop here and listen to what i ave to say i have been very patient with you for some years past joseph began mr harty and i must confess you ave harty interrupted bindle quietly looking at him over a flaming match you ave if you wasn't wanted in the green grocery line you'd have been on a monument you're that patient as it ever struck you arty there was a sterner note in bendell voice. Has 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. Hardy with dignity. "'Well, well, Artie, perhaps you're right,' responded Vindle. Least said, soonest mended. So them kids ain't going to get married on Tuesday, you say?' he continued calmly. "'I thought I had made that clear,' Mr. Hardy's hand shook with nervousness. "'You have, Artie, you have,' said Vindle. mournfully. "'What right have you to—to interfere in such matters?' demanded Mr. Harty, deliberately endeavoring to work himself into a state of indignation. "'Milly shall marry when I please, and her husband shall be of my choosing.'

Bindle looked at Mr. Hardy in surprise. He had never known him so determined. "'You think because you're Martha's brother-in-law?' Mr. Harty 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 here, Artie,' 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. Harty, gaining courage.

"'Once and for all you must cease to interfere in my affairs, if we are to continue—er—' "'Brothers in the Lord,' suggested Bindle. "'There is another thing, Joseph,' proceeded Mr. Harty. "'I have more than a suspicion that you know something about those that the—' Mr. Harty paused. "'Spit it out, Artie,' said Vindle, encouragingly. "'There ain't no ladies present.'

"'If there are any more disturbances in my neighbourhood,' continued Mr. Harty, "'I shall put the matter in the hands of the police. "'I have taken legal advice,' as he uttered the last sentence Mr. Hardy looked at Vindle as if expecting him to quail under the implied threat. "'Have you really?' was Bindle's sole comment. "'I have a clue.' There was a woolly triumph in Mr. Harty's voice. You don't say so, said Bindle with unruffled calm.

You better see the panel doctor and have it taken out. Mr. Harty was disappointed at the effect of what he had hoped to approve a bombshell. How, Joseph, I must be going, said Mr. Harty. I am very busy. Mr. Hardy looked about him as if seeking something with which to be busy. So Millicons ain't going to be allowed to marry Charlie Dixon, said Bindle with gloomy resignation as he wrote. "'Certainly not,' said Mr. Hardy.

"'My mind is made up.' "'Nothing wouldn't make you change it, I suppose,' inquired Bindle. "'Nothing, Joseph.' There was no trace of indecision in Mr. Harty's voice now. "'Poor little Milliken!' said Bindle sadly as he moved towards the door. "'I done my best. Poor little Milliken's, he repeated as he reached for the door handle. Mr. Hardy'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 saying that you been to your lawyer, Artie, he said. I have consulted my solicitor. Mr. Hardy looked swiftly at Bindle at a loss to understand the reason for the question. Useful sometimes knowing a lawyer, remarked Bindle, looking intently into the bowl of his pipe. Suddenly he looked up into Mr. Hardy's face. You'll be wanting him soon, Artie. What do you mean?

There was ill-disguised alarm in Mr. Harty's voice. I see an old pal of yours yesterday, Artie, said Bindle as he opened the door again. Ratty she was with you. She's going to make trouble, I'm afraid. Well, so long, Artie, I must be orf, and Bindle went out into the passage. Joseph, called out Mr. Harty. I want to speak to you. Bindle re-entered. Mr. Hardy walked around him and shut the door stealthily.

What do you mean, Joseph? There was fear in Mr. Harty's voice and eyes. Bindle walked up to him and whispered something in his ear. I, I? Mr. Hardy stuttered and paled. My God! You see, Artie, she told me all about it at the time, said Bindle calmly. It's a lie, a damned lie, shouted Mr. Hartie. Ush, Arty, ush, said Bindle gently. Such language from you. Oh, naughty, Artie, naughty. It's a lie, I tell you, Mr. Harty's voice was almost tearful. It's a wicked endeavor to ruin me. All you got to do, Artie, said Bindle, is to go to old six and eight pence and ever up. It's a lie, I tell you, said Mr. Harty, weakly as he sank down upon the couch. So you just said, remarked Bindle calmly, I thought I better let you know she was

going up to tell the old bird on the ill. Women as funny things, Artie, when you gets their goat, she asked me if I'd mind her going. She says she wouldn't do anything I didn't want her to, because I was the only one what stood by her, made a rare fuss she did, though it wasn't much I'd done. Well, Artie, you're busy and I must be orf. Bindle made a movement towards the door. Joseph, you must stop her, Mr. Harty sprang up, his eyes dilated with fear. Me? exclaimed Bindle in surprise. It ain't nothing to do with me. You've just been telling me. me, I'm always a buttonin' where I ain't wanted, and now—'

"'But you must, Joseph,' pleaded Mr. Harty. "'If this was to get about, it would ruin me.' "'Now ain't you funny, Artie,' said Bindle. "'Here are you a wantin' me to do what you said hurt your feelings.' "'If you do this, Joseph, I'll—' Bindle looked at Mr. Hardy steadily. "'I'll try,' he said, and now I must be open. Tuesday, I think, was the date. I suppose you'll be avidate at the chapel.

"'I'd like to have a word with Milliken's before I go. I'll come into the parlor with you, Artie.' "'You will see,' began Mr. Hardy. "'Right, oh,' replied Bindle cheerfully. "'You leave it to me.' Mr. Hardy turned meekly and walked downstairs to the parlor, where Mrs. Hardy and Millie were seated. "'It's all right, Milliken, your father says he don't object. I persuaded him that you're old enough to know your own mind.'

Millie jumped up and ran to Bindle. "'Oh, Uncle Joe, you dark. "'Darling!' she cried. "'Yes, ain't I? That's what all the ladies tell me, Millikins. "'Make your Aunt Lizzie so cross it does.' "'A lo, Martha,' he cried. "'Ope you got a pretty dress for next Tuesday. "'A wedding, what, oh! Now I must be orf. There's a rare lot of burglars in Fulham, and when they ears I'm out, Lord, they runs ome-like bunnies to their uches. "'Good night, Artie. Cheer o, Martha. Give us a kiss, Millikins.'

And Bindle went out, shone 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 artie end of chapter fourteen read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark dot blogspot dot com chapter fifteen of the adventures of bindle by herbert jenkins this librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 15, Abileting Adventure. Some or other, Ginger, I feel I'm going to have 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 with plan the fool like you do, Joe, grumbled Ginger. It only gets you the sack. Vindle and Ginger were seated comfortably on the tailboard of a

Pantecnicon bearing the famous name of Harage's stores. Ginger had a few days leave, which he was spending involuntarily 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 passerby. For the wounded soldiers taking their morning constitutional, he had always a pleasant word. "'Allo, matey, how goes it?' he would cry. Cheerio would come back the reply. Look at him, Ginge, without legs and arms, Bindle cried, and laughing like L. There ain't much wrong with a country what can breed that sort of cove.

From the top of the Pantecicon 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 tailboard, calling to Ginger to do likewise, and to Wilkes to come down, to save the orses. i don't old w'wakin to save horses grumbled ginger i'm tired of bein on my feet you ain't so tired of being on your feet remarked bindle as god is of erein o the things what you don't old with jing now or f you come old sport ginger slowly slid off the tail of the van and wilkes clambered down from the roof and the 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 mate 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 bays 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, new day might be a day of great happenings of some supreme joke to him a joke was the anesthetic 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 sight of the lord what should i do in evan lizzie i never heard of an angel what was able to see a joke and they'd just oof me out evan's a funny place and 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 hurt so much. If you can grin, you can bear anything, even Mrs. B, and she takes a bit of barren. As the three men trudged up Putney Hill beside the sweating horses, Bindle beamed, Ginger grumbled, and Wilkes cough. 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 a few words and as bindle phrased it when wilkie ain't coughing he's thinking and as it irks him to think he coughs ginger was sincere in his endeavour to discover objects he didn't hold with marriage temperance drinks mr askwith 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 heard you say you didn't old with ginger

it can't help it was ginger's reply no more can't women help twins bindle responded i don't old with 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 job "'God don't ask you for advice, Ginger, or he'd be up a tree in about two ticks.' Ginger grumbled some sort of reply. "'It's a funny world, Ginge,' continued Bindle meditatively. "'There's you what ain't appy in your own life, and there's poor old Wilkie a coughing up his accounts all day long.' After a few moments devoted to puffing contentedly at his pipe, Bindle continued. "'Did you ever hear, Ginger, our poor old Wilkie's cough got him into trouble?'

ginger shook his head mechanically well said bindle he was walking out with a gal and one evening he coughed rather ardor than usual and she took it to mean that he wanted her to marry him and now there's eighteen little wilkies ain't that true wilkie wilk stop coughing to gasp twelve well well a dozen more or less don't much matter wilkie old sport you lined up to your duty anyhow look out for the poplar's uggles bindle called out don't go past a bit and coming 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 nob kerrick and the pantecicon rumbled its way up the drive vindle pulled vigorously at both the visitors and servants bells you never knows what 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 something between the two. Ginger grumbled about not olden 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. "'Mourning Eustace,' said Bindle civilly. "'Wave come!'

John regarded Bindle with a blank expression but made no response. "'Now then, calves off it,' said Bindle. we ain't the war office we're in a hurry we've brought the bedsteads and the bedding 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 here don't be affy old sport said bindle cheerily or who knows but what you may get yourself damaged like one of them funny-colored birds in the zoo ain't he jingh when he turned once more to the footman my friend uggles here bindle jerked his thumb in the direction of huggles won the middleweight championship before his nose ran away with him, and as for me, well, I'm what 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 Carrick, the Poplars, Potnyil, 16 bedsteads, bedding, etc. Is this Lady Knob Carrick's old son? This is her ladyship's residence, replied John. Very well. continued Bindle with finality. We brought her sixteen beds, bedding, etc. There's an ellible lot of et cetera, so you'd better look slippy and go find out all about it if you wants to get off to see your gal tonight.

The footman looked irresolute. Wait here for 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. "'That is the meaning of this?' he inquired. "'The meaning of this, your royal whinesis, "'is that we've brought sixteen bedsteads, bedding, etc.

"'There's an ell of a lot of et cetera, as I told calves. "'For to turn the old bird's drawing-room into billets for soldiers, "'as per instructions according to this ear,' "'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 blooming mistake on our part. you've got to do is to let calves show us where the drawing-room is and we'll do the rest.

Here's the delivery note, and when it's in the delivery note, it's so. That's Erridge's way. Ain't the old bird told you nothing about it? He inquired. 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 Harwiches did business. After a careful inspection of Bindle, he returned to a study of the paper in his hand.

John asked Mrs. Marlings to step here, he ordered the footman. John disappeared swiftly. "'How, I forgot,' said Bindle. "'Got a note for you, I have,' and he drew a letter from his breast-pocket addressed to Mr. Wilton, care of Lady Nob Carrick, the Poplars, Putney Hill, Southwest. With great deliberation, Mr. Wilton opened the envelope and unfolded the quarto sheet of note-paper on which was written, by the instructions of Lady Knob Carrick we are sending here with goods as per delivery note.

It is her ladyships 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. Marling sailed into the room. She was a woman of generous build, marvelously encased in black silk, with a heavy gold chain round her neck from which hung a camelsing.

amy o 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 anything to me about the matter she said in an aggrieved tone nor to me either said mr wilton mrs marling sniffed as if there was nothing in her mistress not having taken mr wilton into her confidence. "'Here come along, boys,' cried Bindle. They don't seem to want these ear goods. We'd better take them back. Keep us here all day at this rate.' This remark seemed to galvanize 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 ormilo 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

think Bindle stepped immediately into the breach. "'He's a bit difficult, is Ginger,' he said in a loud whisper. "'It sort of irts him to be called, my man. That sensitiveness of his has made more than one widow. He means well, though, does Ginger? He just wants Andlin like a wife. Perhaps 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 old calves from cleaning 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 piano forte across the room drew from under it the carpet which was rolled to the round 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 here what the hell are you doing he cried looking out older up older up you olduggins do you want to go through the blooming window look what you done to that tree that'll do steady on steady you didn't ought to have charge of two goats ogles let a l'l'lis "'alone horses. Here, 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. What about a drink? I like a slice of lemon in mine, but ginger will have a split soda.' Suddenly Huggles' voice was heard from without. "'Hi, Joe!' he cried. "'Allo,' responded Bindle, going to the window. "'Where's the ladder?' came Huggles'

question. Why do you suppose it is, Ugles? Why, in Wilkie's waistcoat pocket, of course, and Bindle left it at that. Just as Huggles' head appeared above the window, Mr. Wilton re-entered. I'll have telephone to the Harwiches, he said. Her ladyship's instructions are quite clear. There seems to be no mistake. There ain't no mistake, old sport, said Bindle confidently. It's all down in the delivery note. The old bird has sort of taken a fancy to soldiers, and wants to have 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 want's to see something what'll make you happy, you just make Cavs Whistle or um, ginger your barmy. Then you'll see what'll happen. You'll die laughing, you will, really. For a moment, Mr. Wilton looked incomprehendingly

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 him,' he remarked. "'All right, Ginge, never you mind about Dicky Bird. You get on with your work.' Vindle picked up Wilk's hat, a battered fawn bowler with a mourning band,

and placed it upon the head of the late Sir Benjamin Biggs, lady knob Carrick's father whose bust stood on an elaborate pedestal near the window he's on the bus 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 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, Ginge, remarked Bindle. There ain't much chance of mislaying, poor old Wilkie. That cough of his is as good as a bell round his 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. What the hell are you up to? he cried. Here, Ginger, chuck that thing on the fire. As for you, uggles, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Ain't you never been in a lot of you? You've been in a a drawing room before? I'm surprised at him and you,

Ugles, that I am. Ginger chucked that thing on the fire, he commanded. Huggles muttered something about it being his dinner hour. I don't old love wasting food, began Ginger. I don't care what you old with, Ginge, you got to chuck that soldier 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 whatever has happened what a dreadful smell where can it

ex ginger forgot his self mum explained bendell with a withering glance in the direction of his subordinate he thought he was in an undugout you see mum ginger ain't appy in his own life but-but look it's on the fire cried mrs marlings point 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 whilton 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 with poisonous 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's and indicated to the footman that ginger's offending dinner was to be removed gravely john took up the tongs deliberately gripping the herring midships 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 herring what is a funeral like that remarked bendell to ginger mr wilton threw open the door suddenly john started back and retreated the herring still held before him all six smell and blue smoke. Old me oris, murmured Bindle, who was in a direct line with the door, if it ain't the old bird! Lady Nobkeric 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 Nobkeric 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 nob caret 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 nob caret with ominous calm it was smelling mum broke in bindle and we was getting to take it out it's all through ginger he likes tasty food but he ain't appy hold your tongue said lady knob carrick 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 milady 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 nob kerrick is everybody mad what is my being done with my drawing room. Bindle stepped forward. We come from Arridge's mom with the beds and things for the soldiers. For the what? demanded her ladyship. For the soldiers billets, mum, explained Bindle. You're going to Billet 16 soldiers here. Billet 16 soldiers, almost screamed her ladyship, red in the face. With great deliberation, Vindle pulled out the delivery note from behind his green bay's apron and read solemnly. Lady Knob Carrick, the popp. poplars potny ill that's you mum ain't it lady nob caret continued to stare at him stonily sixteen bedsteads bedding four baths four washing-stands etc there's a rare lot of et cetera's mum fit up bedsteads and drawing-room for billeting soldiers carefully store and at one end of room exist in furniture there ain't no mistake said bimble solemnly it's all on this ear paper which was handed to me by the foreman this morning there ain't no mistake mum really

but i tell you there is a mistake cried lady nob kerrick angrily i have no intention of billeting soldiers in my drawing-room well mum said mendle shaking his head as if it were useless to fight against destiny it's all down here on this here paper and if you're lady nob kerrick he referred to the paper again of the poplars potty hill then you want these soldiers sure as eggs perhaps you've forgotten he added with illumination forgotten what demanded lady nob kerrick "'Forgant that you want sixteen soldiers, Mum?' "'How?' "'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 Carrick, he said triumphantly, "'Here's the sixteen soldiers, Mum, so there ain't no mistake.' "'The what?' demanded Lady Knob Carrick, looking about her helplessly. "'The sixteen soldiers with all their kit,' said Bindle. "'I counted him,' he added, as if to remove any glimmer of doubt that might still exist in Lady Knob-Karick's mind. Is everybody mad? Lady Knob-Kerick 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, seriously. The sergeant looked bewildered at so many people being grouped to receive them. After a hasty glance round, he saluted Lady Nob Carrick, then he removed his cap, the men one by one sheepishly following suit. I hope we haven't come too soon, your ladyship.

Lady Nob Carrick continued to stare at him through her lorgnettes. Wilton stepped forward. There has been a mistake. Her ladyship cannot bill at soldiers. The sergeant looked puzzled. He drew a paper from his pocket and read the address. address aloud. Lady Nob Kierich, the Poplars, Patney Hill, will bill at sixteen soldiers in her drawing-room. She will also cater for them. Cater for them, almost shrieked Lady Nob Karrick. 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 Nob-Karik rudely. Strent! Lady Nob Carrick had suddenly caught sight of Miss Strint. Yes, my lady, responded Miss Strint. Did I order sixteen soldiers? demanded Lady Nob Carrick, in a tone she always adopted with servants when she wanted confirmation. No, my lady, not as far as I know. Lady Nob Carrick turned triumphantly to the sergeant and stared at him through her lorgnets. You hear? she demanded.

Yes, my lady, I hear, said the sergeant, respectful but puzzled. Don't you think, Mom, you could let them stay? insinuated Bindle, seeing that all the stuff's here. "'Let them stay,' Lady Nob Karek 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 doing no harm, Mum, if—' "'No harm!' cried Lady Nob Garek, gazing indignantly at Bindle through her lorgnets.

"'Solders in my drawing-room!' "'If it wasn't for them, Mum,' said Bindle dryly, you'd be avon soldiers in your bedroom unns he added significantly lady nob 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 Nob Karek 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 Karrick's boots. How dare you? gasped Lady Nob Karek, 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 have various veins in your legs, you ain't no good for the army. I went on try until they said they'd run me in for wasting time. I seen him. The remark came from Ginger, who, finding that he had cindered upon himself everybody's attention looked extremely ill at ease. Vindle looked across at him in surprise. Impulse with Ginger was rare. With flaming face and murderous eyes, Lady Knob Carrick 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

herages 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. Vindle scratched his head, took out his pipe, and proceeded to fillet, signing to his colleagues to get the beds and bedding down to the van. "'Wank 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 chorist reply. No! My, ain't them boys just 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 Vindle sat on the tailboard smoking. Well, he got home all right on the old bird today, murmured Bindle contendedly. My ain't e a knockout for his little joke. Beats me, does Mr. Little, and I takes a little bit a-beaten. End of Chapter 15, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, Shaggybark. blogspot.com.

Chapter 16 of The Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Chapter 16. Millie's Wedding It don't seem right somehow, muttered Bindle as he stood before the oval mirror of what a misguided Fulham tradesman had cataloged as an elegant duchess dressing table in Walnut substitute,

a concertina that don't seem just right for a wedding 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 bady 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 harty say if we're late you need never be afraid of what ordeal say remarked bindle philosophically because he'll never say anything what can't be printed in a parish magazine mrs bindle sniffed and continued patting her hair with her 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 like to have worn a top ad at Milliken's wedding,' he remarked with genuine regret. "'But as you'd say, Mrs. B,' he remarked, regaining his good humor,

"'God has ordained otherwise, so it's an odd at for J.B. today.' 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 button-hole 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 button-hole 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 have a sport and chance today. Lord, I pays for dressing,' he remarked,

popping quickly aside as Mrs. Bindle bore down upon him. "'You ought to be a proud woman today, Mrs. B,' he continued, "'there's many a fair art what'll flutter as I walks up the aisle. Bindle's head, however, was enveloped in the folds of her skirt, which she was endeavoring to assume without rumpling her hair. "'Ah, Mrs. Bindle said reprovingly. "'Light 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 wedding!' exclaimed Bindle incredulously.

"'Then if you can't smoke a cigar at a wedding, when the hell 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 the chapel is its own smell and that ain't a pleasant one anyhow i'll put it out before i gets to the door i'm just 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 bendell stopped dead on his way to the door and turning round exclaimed wasn't what you mustn't see a bride before she appears at the chapel or church it isn't proper well i'm bloud cried bindle you mean to tell me that charlie dixon ain't going to nip round and have a look at her this morning certainly not said mrs bindle but why persisted bendell because it's not proper it's not the right thing to do replied mrs bendell as she struggled into her bodice now ain't that funny said bindle i suppose it all came about out because they was afraid the chap might sort of funk it and do a bunk not liking the looks of the gal anyhow that ain't likely to happen with millikins the covok gets her as got a winner i thought you didn't believe in marriage said mrs bindle assidly oh i don't mrs bie replied bindle leastways the marriage is what 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 hand it's goin to be top-old then he proceeded after a pause millikins has got me to look after her if her man don't make her appy i'd skin him yes and rubbed salt in afterwards there was a grimness in bindle's voice that caused mrs bindle to pause in the process of pinning a brooch over her bodice yes mrs bd bennel continued bindle that little gal means an ell of a lot to me ay mrs bindle looked round a little startled at a hushabye

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 toilette. Everything seemed to go wrong, and each article she required appeared to have hidden itself away. Finally she assumed her bonnet, a steady in two tints of green, constructed according to the inevitable plan upon which all her bonnets were built, narrow 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-colored dress with the bright green bonnet.

When Mrs. Bindle emerged into Fenton Street working her white kid gloves with feverish movement, she found Bindle engaged in chatting with a group of neighbors. Here comes my little beetroot, remarked Bindle, at Bindle. which Mrs. Rogers went off into a shriek of laughter and told him to, Go on, do! Mrs. Bindle acknowledged the salutations of her neighbors 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, so long all of you, said Bindle. It ain't my wedding, that's one thing. There were cheery responses to Bindle's remarks and Sotovoche 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. Roy to O, said Bindle, as they turned into the new King's Road. He waved the hand containing the cigar and 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 what? inquired Bindle innocently. Recognizing common people when you're with me, was the response. but that was erie sails said bindle's puzzled at mrs bindall's attitude he ain't common he drives a motor-bus what will people think demanded mrs bindle oh they're used to erie driving a bus replied bindle they might think it funny if he was to drive an urse you know what i mean said mrs bindle why can't you remember that you're going to a wedding nobody wouldn't know it from your looks mrs bery commented bindle you look about as appy as arty does when he ears there's going to a wedding nobody wouldn't know it from your looks mrs bennel commented bindle you look about as appy as arty does when he ears there's going going 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? inquired Bindle, looking first to the right and left, and 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. Harty and Millie passed by and drew up at the entrance to the chapel. Mr. Harty'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. Hardy 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. Hardy hurriedly stepped out to retrieve his headgear. Mr. Hardy's foot came down upon the dog's paw. The animal gave a heart-rending howl. Mr. Hardy jumped. The people laughed and the dog continued to howl, holding up its wounded paw. Mr. Harty, 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 endeavoring 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 a game of okey, said Bindle, who had come up at this moment. Go it, Artie. You got it! Mrs. Bindle tore at Bindle's arm, just as the benevolent gentleman had succeeded in securing Mr. Hardy's hat.

Mr. Hardy 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. Harty, endeavoring to restore something of its lost glossiness. Mr. Harty 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. Harty 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. "'What's a good omen, Millikins? That you should take me in instead of father,' she whispered, just as Mr. Hardy bustled up and relieved Bindle. There was a craning of necks and a hum of voices as Mr. Hardy, intensely nervous, led his daughter up to the altar. Bindle followed, carrying Mr. Harty's hat and umbrella.

"'My, don't his nibs look smart,' Bindle muttered too. himself as he caught sight of Charlie Dixon standing at the further end of the chapel. The Reverend Mr. Sopley had come up from Eastbourne, especially for the occasion, Millie refusing to be married by Mr. McPhee. The ceremony dragged its mournful course to the point where Millie and Charlie had become man and wife. Mr. Soply 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. "'He ain't much at Marion,' whispered Bindle to Mr. Hardy.

"'But he ought to be worth a rare lot for funerals,' Mr. Harty 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 a depressing atmosphere by his cheerfulness. Mrs. Hardy in Maw and Violet dabbed her eyes and beat her breast with rigid impartiality. Mr. Harty 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

and a toke of the same shade. Mr. Soply shook hands, mechanically with everybody, casting his eyes up to heaven as if mournfully presaging the worst. About the gloomiest old cove I ever come across, whispered Bindle to Mrs. Hardy, whereat she collapsed upon a seat and heaved with silent laughter. It was Bindle who broke up the proceedings. Now then Charlie Alpit, I'm hungry, he said, and Charlie Dixon, who had seemed paralyzed, moved towards the vestry door. It was Bindle who held on Mr. Hardy's hat when he entered his

carriage, and it was Bindle who heaved and pushed Mrs. Hardy 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 Evan let's come and cut old Artie's pineapple that'll make him ratty during the journey Bindle went on to explain that mr. Harty 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, remarked Mr. Soply, gazing at the roof of the carriage. Clever old bird this, muttered Bindle. About as brainy as a cock sparrow what's at the wind knocked out of him. When Vindle entered the Harty's dining room, he found the atmosphere one of unrelieved gloom.

Mrs. Hardy was crying. Mr. Hardy 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. Hardy's dining room that morning.

Hello, hello! cried Bindle as he entered with Mr. Sopley. Ain't this a jolly little crowd? Millie brightened up instantaneously. Charlie Dixon looked relieved. Mr. Hardy 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. Soply stepped back and struck his head against the edge of the door. Look at Orty trying to kiss old woe on whiskers, remarked Bindle audibly. Millie giggled. Charlie Dixon smiled. Mrs. Bindle glared and the rest of the guests looked either disapprovingly of Bindle or sympathetically

at Mr. Hardy and Mr. Soply. Mrs. Hardy collapsed into a chair and began to undulate with mirth. Couldn't we have an eam? suggested Bindle. Mr. Hardy looked round from abjectly apologizing to Mr. Soply. He hesitated a moment and glanced towards the harmonium.

Uncle Joe is only joking, father, said Millie. Mr. Hardy looked at Vindle reproachfully. Now then, let's sat 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. Hardy, Mr. Sopley rose to say grace. Everyone but Bindle was watching for movement, and a sudden silence fell on the assembly from which Bindel's remarks stood out with clear-cut emphasis. Old Artie playing hockey with his top hat under, then Bindle stopped, looking about him with a grin.

Gravely and ponderously Mr. Soply besought the Lord to make the assembly grateful for what they were about to receive, and amidst the chorus of amends the guests resumed their seats. The wedding party was a small one. For once Mr. Hardy 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 and friends and relatives of the Harties. 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. Hardy. Mrs. Bindle was opposite where she had planted herself to keep watch. Mr. Hardy sat next to Mrs. Dixon facing Mr. Dixon, whose uncompromising stare Mr. Hardy 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 inquiry if Mr. Dixon would have lime juice or lemonade.

Bear, cried Mr. Dixon in a loud voice. Alice looked across at Mr. Hardy, who being quite unequal to the situation, looked at Alice and then directed his gaze toward Mr. Soply. 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 harty 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 hardy shook his head miserably as if fully conscious of his shortcomings "'extorinary,' said Mr. Dixon. "'Most extraordinary!' "'Well, I'll have a whiskey and soda,' he conceded magnanimously.

Mr. Hardy rolled his eyes and cast a languishing glance in the direction of Mrs. Bindle. "'We are temperance,' said Mr. Hardy. "'What?' roared Mr. Dixon incredulously. "'Temperance? Temperance at a wedding?' "'Always,' said Mr. Hardy. "'Hm,' snorted Dixon. He glared down the length of the table as if the guests comprised of new species. Alice repeated her question about the lemonade and lime juice.

I should be sick if I drank it, said Mr. Dixon, Crossley. I'll have a cup of tea. He's like me, Mum, said Bindle to Mrs. Dixon, who was greatly distressed at the occurrence. He likes his 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 to Mrs. Hardy. "'Look here, Martha,' he cried. "'We ain't a very cheero crowd, are we? Ain't you got none of them naughty stories of yours to tell just to make us laugh?'

Mrs. Hardy 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 here, sir,' said Vindle, addressing Mr. Sopley, who temporarily withdrew his eyes from the ceiling. I had a little argument with a cove the other day as to where this ear was to be found. I said it's from the Bible. He says it's from the Pinkin.' 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 he come fifth and lorced the cup. Mrs. Dixon smiled,

Millie and Charlie Dixon laughed, but Mr. Dixon threw himself back in his chair and roared. Mr. Hardy 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 Pinkin. I'll bet my life on it,' choked Mr. Dixon. "'Best thing I've heard for years. Pond my soul it is,' he cried. "'Mr. Bindle, I'm afraid you're a very naughty man,' said Mrs. Dixon gently. "'May, Mom?' inquired Bindle with assured innocence. "'May, naughty? That's just where you're wrong, Mom. When I die, it has a very ain't the things I done what I shall be sorry for, but the things what I ain't done.

And as for Artie, he'll be as sorry for himself as Ginger was when he got a dose of twins. Bindle, remember there are ladies present, cried the outraged Mrs. Bindle from the other side of the table. It's all right, Mrs. Bindle, 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. Harty's face. If only they had a drink, groaned Bindle. It was sort of wake them up, but what can you do on lemonade and glass ginger? Can't even have stone ginger,

because they're sort of afraid it might make them tight. When everyone had eaten to repletion, Mr. Hardy cast a glance round and then, with the butt end of a knife, wrapped loudly on the table. There was a little. was a sudden hush. Mr. Hardy looked intently at Mr. Soapley, who was far away engaged in a contemplation of heaven via the ceiling. Bindle began to clap, which brought Mr. Soapley 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 on 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 veil of tears, marriage is infinitely the most awful.' "'Eer, ear!' from Bindle, and murmurs of hush. "'It is a contract entered into—'

"'In the sight of heaven, but with—' "'The Almighty's blessing, it may be a linking of hands "'of two of God's creatures as they pass down the valley of the shadow of death "'to eternal and lasting salvation.' Mr. Soply paused. "'Eer I say, sir broke in bendel cheer up this ain't a funeral there were murmurs of hush mrs hardy began to cry quietly mr harty appeared portentously solemn mrs bendell looked almost cheerful we see two young people resumed mr soepley 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

its sin and misery, all its fears and misgivings. We know that, we know, we have evidence of. Mr. Sopley lost the threat of his discourse, and once more returned to his contemplation of Mr. Harty's ceiling. Bindle beat his fist on the table, but was silenced by a hush from several of the guests. Marriages, continued Mr. Soply, marriages are made in heaven. I knew you was going to say that, sir, broke in Bindle cheer. ear stop it he yelled stooping down to rub his shin who's a kicking me under the table he fixed a suspicious eye upon a winter-worn spinster in a view rose satin blouse sitting opposite marriage is a thing of terrible solemnity resumed mr softly not to be entered upon lightly or with earthly thoughts it is symbolical of many things sometimes terrible things ear ear 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 mead of happiness which we all wish them in spite of the entire lack of conviction with which mr soakley wished the bridle-pair happiness he resumed his seat amidst murmurs of approval his words were too solemn to be followed by applause from any one 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. "'Ear! 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 going to happen when you know you're married. "'Be kicking my shins all the morning she has, 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. Hardy 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 softly i'll come to you sir to tie me up it'll sort of prepare me for the worst but i got to wait till mrs boughby opposite with the lodger not old guppy he added he's gone mr dixon laughed loudly into mrs bindle's cheeks there stole a flush of anger well continued bindle i promised charlie that he shouldn't ave no speeches to make and so i'm on my eyed legs a given thanks for all them cheerful things what we just erred about i ain't altogether a believer an ow to be appy though married but this ere gentleman bindle indicated mr soply by a jerk of his thumb well he can give me points no one did not to have such ideas what ain't done time for bigamy i can see now why there ain't no given and taken in marriage up there and bindle raised his eyes to the ceiling i got a new respect for evan i have i don't rightly understand what he means by a veil of tears or walk an end in end along the valley of the shadow perhaps there are places he's been to abroad i seen a good deal of wandering and end and end along the river between putney and emmersmith i'm a special you know i had to ask

the sergeant to change my duty used to make me aught all over it did there's one thing where you're wrong sir bindle turned to mr soply who reluctantly brought his eyes down from the ceiling to gaze vacantly at bindle you said this ere marriage was made in evan well it wasn't it was made in fulham mrs dixon smiled mr dixon guffawd mr hardy looked anxiously from mrs bindle to mr soply i made it myself so i ought to know proceeded bindle i seen a good deal of them two kids he looked affectionately at milly and if they ain't goin to be appy and fulham instead of wandering about veils and valleys a snivelin you got one up against joe bindle i remember once e'er and a parson say that when we died and went to the sort of old bailey in the sky we should be asked if we'd ever done anybody a good turn if we had then we'd got a sportin chance when i'm dead i can see myself a knocking at them golden gates of evan sort of registered letter knock what means and answers wanted when they ask me if i ever done anyone a good turn i shall say i got millikins and charlie dixon tied up right o old sport they'll say up in and i shall nip in quick before they can bang the gates too like they do in the tube then i shall see old artie all wings and whiskers a playin ragtime on an arp again mr dixon's hearty laugh rang out splendid he cried splendid i seen a good deal of marriage one way and another me and mrs b have been tied up a matter of nineteen years and look at her don't she look happy everybody turned to regard mrs bindle then continued bindle there's artie look at him one of the jolliest coves i know mechanically all eyes were directed towards mr harty it all depends how you goes about marriage there's one thing you got to remember before you gets married bottles is returnable likewise new late eggs what 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 going to make a long speech because the pubs close at

aft past two, and you'll all want to wash the taste of this ear lemonade out of 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 vigor. 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 Milly that the taxi was at the door. This was a signal for a general movement,

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. Rorto, Charlie, replied Bindle. Leave it to me. Now then, hurry up, hurry 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 old 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 old woman at times,' remarked Bindle, swallowing elaborately. now I must run after my little bit of Evan, or else she'll be off with old woe and whiskers. It's wonderful how misery seems to attract some women. He took two steps towards the door, then turning to Mrs. Dixon said, Don't you worry, Mum. You'll come back all right. God ain't a going to spoil the happiness 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 a astonishment, and then turned and walked through the Hartie's private door. Well, I'm blowed, he muttered. Fancy Eurrissin that! I wonder what old Artie had think. Well, I'm blowed. Here, come along, sir, he cried to Mr. Dixon. It's a quarter past two. We just got a quarter of an hour. And the two men passed down the high street in the direction of Putney Bridge. End of Chapter 16. End of the Adventures of Bindle by Herbert Jenkins.