"We've got to save souls," remarked Mrs. Bindle with grim decision.

"But didn't a man ought to be good because he wants to be good, and not because 'e's afraid of being bad?" demanded Bindle.

Mrs. Bindle pondered over this remark for a moment; but finding it too deep for her replied, "You always was a doubter, Bindle; I'd have been a happier woman if you hadn't been."

"But," continued Bindle, "do you think Gawd wants to 'ave a man in chapel wot wants to be at the Empire, only doesn't go because 'e's afraid? I wouldn't if I was Gawd," he added, shaking his head with decision. "Look at 'Earty's 'orse on Sat.u.r.day nights. Can't 'ardly drag itself to the stables, it can't, yet 'Earty's as sure of 'eaven as I am of you, Mrs. B."

Mrs. Bindle was silent, her manner was distraite, she was listening for the sound of Mr. Gupperduck's return.

"I'd give my sugar ration to know wot we're all a-goin' to do in 'eaven," remarked Bindle meditatively. "Fancy 'Earty there! Wot will 'e do? They won't let 'im sell vegetables, and they'll soon stop 'im singing."

"We shall all have our occupations," remarked Mrs. Bindle oracularly.

"Yes, but wot?" demanded Bindle. "There ain't no furniture to move an'

no vegetables to sell. All I can do is to watch 'Earty, an' see 'e don't go round pinchin' angels' meat-tickets."

For once Mrs. Bindle allowed a remark to pa.s.s without the inevitable accusation of blasphemy!

"No," remarked Bindle, "if I dies an' they sends me up to 'eaven, I shall knock at the door, an' I shall say, 'Is 'Earty 'ere? 'Earty the Fulham and Putney greengrocer, you know.' If they says 'Yes,' then it's a smoker for me;" and Bindle proceeded to re-charge his pipe. "I often thought----"

Bindle was interrupted by a loud knocking at the outer door. With a swift movement Mrs. Bindle rose and pa.s.sed out of the kitchen. Bindle listened. There was a sound of men's voices in the outer pa.s.sage, with the short, sharper tones of Mrs. Bindle. A moment later the door opened, and two men entered supporting the limp form of Mr.

Gupperduck.

"'Oly angels!" cried Bindle, starting up. "'Oly angels! someone's been a-tryin' to alter 'im." He bent forward to get a better view. "Done it pretty well, too," he muttered as he gazed at the unprepossessing features of Mr. Gupperduck, now accentuated by a black eye, a broken lip, a contusion on the right cheek-bone, and one ear covered with blood. His collar had disappeared, also his hat and spectacles, his waist-coat was torn open, and various portions were missing from his coat.

"Wot's 'e been doin'?" enquired Bindle of a weedy-looking man with long hair, a sandy pointed beard, and a cloth cap, three sizes too large for him, which rested on the tops of his ears. "Wot's 'e been up to?"

"He's been addressing a meeting," replied the man in a mournful voice.

Bindle turned once more to Mr. Gupperduck and examined him closely.

"Looks as if the meetin's been addressin' 'im, don't it?" he remarked.

"It was not a very successful meeting," remarked the other supporter of Mr. Gupperduck, a very little man with a very long beard. "It wasn't a very successful meeting," he repeated with conviction.

"Well, I never seen a meetin' make such alterations in a man in all my puff," remarked Bindle.

Mrs. Bindle had busied herself in preparing a basin of hot water with which to wash the mud and blood from the victim's pallid face. With closed eyes Mr. Gupperduck continued to breathe heavily.

Bindle with practical samaritanism went into the parlour and returned with a half-quartern bottle. Pouring some of the contents into a gla.s.s he held it to Mr. Gupperduck's lips. Without the least resistance the liquid was swallowed.

"Took that down pretty clean," said Bindle, looking up at the man with the sandy beard.

"Don't do that!" cried Mrs. Bindle, turning suddenly, her nostrils detecting the smell of alcohol.

"Do what?" enquired Bindle from where he knelt beside the damaged Mr.

Gupperduck.

"Give him that," said Mrs. Bindle, "he's temperance."

"Well, 'e ain't now," remarked Bindle with calm conviction.

"Oh, you villain!" The vindictiveness of Mrs. Bindle's tone caused the three listeners to look up, and even Mr. Gupperduck's eyelids, after a preliminary flutter, raised themselves, as he gazed about him wonderingly.

"Where am I?" he moaned.

"You're all right," said Mrs. Bindle, taking Bindle's place by Mr.

Gupperduck's side. "You're safe now."

Mr. Gupperduck closed his eyes again, and Mrs. Bindle proceeded to wipe his face with a piece of flannel dipped in water.

"Pore ole Guppy!" murmured Bindle. "They done it in style any'ow. I wonder wot 'e's been up to. Must 'ave been sayin' things wot they didn't like. Wot was 'e talkin' about, ole sport?"

Bindle turned to the man with the sandy beard, who was sitting on a chair leaning forward with one hand on each knee, much as if he were watching a c.o.c.k-fight.

"It was a Peace meeting," replied the man mournfully.

Bindle gave vent to a prolonged whistle of understanding.

"Oh, Guppy, Guppy!" he cried. "Why couldn't you 'ave kept to the next world, without getting mixed up with this?"

"It was wounded soldiers," volunteered the man with the sandy beard.

"Wounded soldiers!" exclaimed Bindle.

"Yes," continued the man mournfully; "he appealed to them, as sufferers under this terrible armageddon, to pa.s.s a resolution condemning the continuance of the war, and--and----"

"They pa.s.sed their resolution on 'is face," suggested Bindle.

The man nodded. "It was terrible," he said, "terrible; we were afraid they would kill him."

"And where was you while all this was 'appenin'?"

"Oh!" said the man, "I was fortunate enough to find a tree."

Bindle looked him up and down with elaborate intentness, then having satisfied himself as to every detail of his appearance and apparel, he remarked:

"Ain't it wonderful wot luck some coves do 'ave!"

"I regard it as the direct interposition of Providence," said the man.

"And I suppose you shinned up that tree like giddy-o?" suggested Bindle.

"Yes," said the man, "I was brought up in the country."

"Was you now?" said Bindle. "Well, it was lucky for you, wasn't it?"

"The hand of G.o.d," was the reply; "clearly the hand of G.o.d."