"No, my lady, not as far as I know."

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick turned triumphantly to the sergeant, and stared at him through her lorgnettes.

"You hear?" she demanded.

"Yes, my lady, I hear," said the sergeant, respectful, but puzzled.

"Don't you think, mum, you could let 'em stay," insinuated Bindle, "seein' that all the stuff's 'ere."

"Let them stay!" Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick regarded Bindle in amazement. "Let them stay _in my drawing-room_!" She p.r.o.nounced the last four words as if Bindle's remark had outraged her sense of delicacy.

"They wouldn't be doin' no 'arm, mum, if----"

"No harm!" cried Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, gazing indignantly at Bindle through her lorgnettes. "Soldiers in my drawing-room!"

"If it wasn't for them, mum," said Bindle dryly, "you'd be 'avin'

soldiers in your bedroom--'Uns," he added significantly.

Lady k.n.o.b-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 d.a.m.ning admission.

Bindle scratched his head through his cricket-cap. He was conscious that all eyes were turned upon him.

"Answer me!" commanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick triumphantly. "Why are you not in the army?"

Bindle looked up innocently at his antagonist.

"You got 'various' veins in your legs, mum?" He lowered his eyes to Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick's boots.

"How--how dare you!" gasped Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, aware that the soldiers were broadly grinning, and that every eye in the room had followed the direction of Bindle's gaze.

"Because," continued Bindle quietly, "when you 'ave 'various' veins in your legs you ain't no good for the army. I went on tryin' till they said they'd run me in for wastin' time."

"I seen 'im!"

The remark came from Ginger, who, finding that he had centred upon himself everybody's attention, looked extremly ill-at-ease. Bindle looked across at him in surprise. Impulse with Ginger was rare.

With flaming face and murderous eyes Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick turned to the sergeant.

"You will remove your sixteen soldiers and take them back and say that they were not ordered. As for you," she turned to Bindle, "you had better take all these things back again and tell Harridge's that I shall close my account, and I shall sue them for damages to my drawing-room"; and with that she marched out of the room.

At a word from the sergeant the men trooped out, putting on their caps and grinning broadly. Bindle scratched his head, took out his pipe and proceeded to fill it, signing to his colleagues to get the beds and bedding down to the van.

"Quick march!" The short sharp order from below was followed by a crunch of gravel, and then the men broke out into a song, "Here we are, here we are, here we are again." Bindle went to the window and looked out. As the sound died away in the distance, the question "Are we downhearted?" was heard, followed immediately by the chorused reply:

"Noooooooo!"

"My! ain't them boys jest 'It,'" muttered Bindle as he withdrew his head and proceeded with the work of reloading the van.

Two hours later the van was grinding down Putney Hill with the skid-pan adjusted. Ginger had gone home, Wilkes was on top, and Bindle sat on the tail-board smoking.

"Well, 'e got 'ome all right on the Ole Bird to-day," remarked Bindle contentedly. "My! ain't 'e a knock-out for 'is little joke. Beats me does Mr. Little, an' I takes a bit o' beatin'."

CHAPTER XVI

MILLIE'S WEDDING

"It don't seem right, some'ow," muttered Bindle, as he stood before the oval mirror of what a misguided Fulham tradesman had catalogued as "an elegant d.u.c.h.esse dressing-table in walnut subst.i.tute." "A concertina-'at don't seem jest right for a weddin'!"

Bindle readjusted the crush-hat that had come to him as part of the properties belonging to the Oxford Adventure. He tried it on the back of his head, over his eyes and at the Sir David Beatty Angle.

"Oh, get out of the way, do! We shall be late." Mrs. Bindle, in petticoat and camisole, pushed Bindle aside and took her place in front of the mirror. "Anybody would think you was a woman, standing looking at yourself in front of the gla.s.s. What'll Mr. Hearty say if we're late?"

"You need never be afraid of what 'Earty'll say," remarked Bindle philosophically, "because 'e'll never say anythink wot can't be printed in a parish magazine."

Mrs. Bindle sniffed and continued patting her hair with the palm of her hand. Bindle still stood regarding his crush-hat regretfully.

"You can't wear a hat like that at a wedding," snapped Mrs. Bindle; "that's for a dress-suit."

Bindle heaved a sigh.

"I'd a liked to 'ave worn a top 'at at Millikins' weddin'," he remarked with genuine regret; "but as you'd say, Mrs. B.," he remarked, regaining his good-humour, "Gawd 'as ordained otherwise, so it's a 'ard 'at for J.B. to-day."

"Remember you're going to chapel, Bindle," remarked Mrs. Bindle, "and it's a sin to enter the House of G.o.d 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 b.u.t.tonhole. 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 b.u.t.tonhole plus the hat. He next proceeded to draw on a pair of canary-coloured wash-leather gloves. This done he picked up a light cane, heavily adorned with yellow metal and, Mrs. Bindle having temporarily left the mirror, he placed himself before it.

"Personally myself," he remarked, "I don't see that Charlie'll 'ave a sportin' chance to-day. Lord! I pays for dressin'," he remarked, popping quickly aside as Mrs. Bindle bore down upon him. "You ought to be a proud woman to-day, Mrs. B.," he continued. "There's many a fair 'eart wot'll flutter as I walks up the aisle." Mrs. Bindle's head, however, was enveloped in the folds of her skirt, which she was endeavouring to a.s.sume without rumpling her hair.

"Ah! Mrs. B.," Bindle said reprovingly, "late again, late again!" He proceeded to bite off the end of a cigar which he lit.

"Don't smoke that cigar," snapped Mrs. Bindle.

"Not smoke a cigar at a weddin'!" exclaimed Bindle incredulously.

"Then if you can't smoke a cigar at a weddin', when the 'ell can you smoke one."

"Don't you use those words at me," retorted Mrs. Bindle. "If you smoke you'll smell of smoke in the chapel."

"The only smell I ever smelt in that chapel is its own smell, and that ain't a pleasant one. Any'ow, I'll put it out before I gets to the door. I'm jest goin' to 'op round to see Millikins."

"You'll do nothing of the kind," cried Mrs. Bindle with decision. "You mustn't see a bride before she appears at the chapel."