"'Ush, 'Earty, 'ush!" said Bindle gently. "Such language from you! Oh, naughty! 'Earty, naughty!"

"It's a lie, I tell you." Mr. Hearty's voice was almost tearful. "It's a wicked endeavour to ruin me."

"All you got to do, 'Earty," said Bindle, "is to go to ole Six-an'-Eightpence an' 'ave 'er up."

"It's a lie, I tell you," said Mr. Hearty weakly as he sank down upon the couch.

"So you jest said," remarked Bindle calmly. "I thought I better let you know she was goin' up to tell the Ole Bird on the 'Ill. Women is funny things, 'Earty, when you gets their goat. She asked me if I'd mind 'er goin'. Says she wouldn't do anythink I didn't want 'er to, because I was the only one wot stood by 'er. Made a rare fuss, she did, though it wasn't much I done. Well, 'Earty, you're busy, an' I must be orf." Bindle made a movement towards the door.

"Joseph, you must stop her!" Mr. Hearty sprang up, his eyes dilated with fear.

"Me!" exclaimed Bindle in surprise. "It ain't nothink to do with me.

You jest been tellin' me I'm always a-b.u.t.tin' in where I ain't wanted, and now----"

"But--but you must, Joseph," pleaded Mr. Hearty. "If this was to get about, it would ruin me."

"Now ain't you funny, 'Earty," said Bindle. "'Ere are you a-wantin' me to do wot you said 'urt your feelin's."

"If you do this, Joseph, I'll--I'll----"

Bindle looked at Mr. Hearty steadily. "I'll try," he said, "an' now I must be 'oppin'. Toosday I think was the date. I suppose you'll be 'avin' it at the chapel? I'd like to 'ave a word with Millikins before I go. I'll come into the parlour with you, 'Earty."

"You will see----" began Mr. Hearty.

"Right-o!" replied Bindle cheerfully. "You leave it to me."

Mr. Hearty turned meekly and walked downstairs to the parlour, where Mrs. Hearty and Millie were seated.

"It's all right, Millikins, your father says 'e don't object. I persuaded 'im that you're old enough to know your own mind."

Millie jumped up and ran to Bindle.

"Oh, Uncle Joe, you darling!" she cried.

"Yes, ain't I? that's wot all the ladies tell me, Millikins. Makes your Aunt Lizzie so cross, it does."

"'Ullo, Martha!" he cried. "'Ope you got a pretty dress for next Toosday. A weddin', wot'o! Now I must be orf. There's a rare lot o'

burglars in Fulham, an' when they 'ears I'm out, Lord! they runs 'ome like bunnies to their 'utches. Good night, 'Earty; cheer-o, Martha!

Give us a kiss, Millikins;" and Bindle went out, shown to the door by Millie.

"Oh, Uncle Joe, you're absolutely wonderful! I think you could do anything in the world," she said.

"I wonder," muttered Bindle, as he walked off, "if they'll charge me up with that little fairy tale I told 'Earty."

CHAPTER XV

A BILLETING ADVENTURE

"Some'ow or other, Ginger, I feel I'm goin' to 'ave quite an 'appy day."

Bindle proceeded to light his pipe with the care of a man to whom tobacco means both mother and wife.

"I don't 'old wiv playin' the fool like you do, Joe," grumbled Ginger.

"It only gets you the sack."

Bindle and Ginger were seated comfortably on the tail-board of a pantechnicon bearing the famous name of Harridge's Stores. Ginger had a few days' leave, which he was spending in voluntarily helping his mates with their work.

As they rumbled through Putney High Street, Bindle from time to time winked at a girl, or exchanged some remark with a male pa.s.ser-by.

For the wounded soldiers taking their morning const.i.tutional he had always a pleasant word.

"'Ullo, matey, 'ow goes it?" he would cry.

"Cheerio!" would come back the reply.

"Look at 'em, Ging, without legs an' arms," Bindle cried, "an'

laughin' like 'ell. There ain't much wrong with a country wot can breed that sort o' cove."

From the top of the pantechnicon could be heard Wilkes's persistent cough, whilst Huggles was in charge of the "ribbons."

As they reached the foot of Putney Hill, Bindle slipped off the tail-board, calling to Ginger to do likewise and to Wilkes to come down, "to save the 'orses."

"I don't 'old wiv' walkin' to save 'orses," grumbled Ginger. "I'm tired o' bein' on my feet."

"You ain't so tired o' bein' on your feet," remarked Bindle, "as Gawd is of 'earin' o' the things wot you don't 'old with, Ging. Now, orf you come, ole sport!"

Ginger slowly slid off the tail of the van, and Wilkes clambered down from the roof, and two weary horses were conscious of nearly a quarter of a ton less weight to haul up a tiring hill. Bindle was too popular with his mates for them to refuse him so simple a request as walking up a hill.

On Bindle's head was the inevitable cricket cap of alternate triangles of blue and white, which exposure to all sorts of weather had rendered into two shades of grey. He wore his green baize ap.r.o.n, his nose was as cheery and ruddy and his smile as persistent as ever. At the corners of his mouth were those twitches that he seemed unable to control. To Bindle, existence meant opportunity. As he saw it, each new day might be a day of great happenings, of some supreme joke. To him a joke was the anaesthetic which enabled him to undergo the operation of life.

Blessed with a wife to whom religion was the be-all and end-all of existence, he had once remarked to her, after an eloquent exhortation on her part to come on the side of the Lord, "Wot should I do in 'eaven, Lizzie? I never 'eard of an angel wot was able to see a joke, and they'd jest 'oof me out. 'Eaven's a funny place, an' I can't be funny in their way. I got to go on as I was made."

"If you was to smile more, Ginger," remarked Bindle presently, "you'd find that life wouldn't 'urt so much. If you can grin you can bear anythink, even Mrs. B., an' she takes a bit o' bearin'."

As the three men trudged up Putney Hill beside the sweating horses, Bindle beamed, Ginger grumbled, and Wilkes coughed. Wilkes was always coughing. Wilkes found expression in his cough. He could cough laughter, scorn, or anger. As he was always coughing, life would otherwise have been intolerable. He was a man of few words, and, as Bindle phrased it, "When Wilkie ain't coughin', 'e's thinkin'; an' as it 'urts 'im to think, 'e coughs."

Ginger was sincere in his endeavour to discover objects he didn't "'old wiv"; marriage, temperance drinks, Mr. Asquith, twins and women were some of the things that Ginger found it impossible to reconcile with the beneficent decrees of Providence.

After a particularly lengthy bout of coughing on the part of Wilkes, Bindle remarked to Ginger, "Wilkie's cough is about the only thing I never 'eard you say you don't 'old wiv, Ginger."

"'E can't 'elp it," was Ginger's reply.

"No more can't women 'elp twins," Bindle responded.