Millie, clinging to her soldier-husband, stood with downcast eyes.

Bindle looked at her with interest, as she stood a meek and charming figure in a coat and skirt of puritan grey, with a toque of the same shade.

Mr. Sopley shook hands mechanically with everybody, casting his eyes up to heaven as if mournfully presaging the worst.

"About the gloomiest ole cove I ever come across," whispered Bindle to Mrs. Hearty, whereat she collapsed upon a seat and heaved with silent laughter.

It was Bindle who broke up the proceedings.

"Now then, Charlie, 'op it, I'm 'ungry!" he said; and Charlie Dixon, who had seemed paralysed, moved towards the vestry door.

It was Bindle who held on Mr. Hearty's hat when he entered his carriage, and it was Bindle who heaved and pushed Mrs. Hearty until she was able to take her place beside her lawful spouse.

It was Bindle who went back and captured the vague and indeterminate Mr. Sopley, and brought him in the last carriage, that he might partic.i.p.ate in the wedding-breakfast.

"Come along, sir," he said to the pastor. "Never mind about 'eaven, let's come and cut ole 'Earty's pineapple, that'll make 'im ratty."

During the journey Bindle went on to explain that Mr. Hearty never expected a guest to have the temerity to cut a pineapple when placed upon his hospitable board.

"Is that so?" remarked Mr. Sopley, not in the least understanding what Bindle was saying.

"It is," said Bindle solemnly; "you see, they goes back into stock."

"Ah-h-h-h!" remarked Mr. Sopley, gazing at the roof of the carriage.

"Clever ole bird this," muttered Bindle. "About as brainy as a c.o.c.k-sparrow wot's 'ad the wind knocked out of 'im."

When Bindle entered the Heartys' dining-room he found the atmosphere one of unrelieved gloom. Mrs. Hearty was crying, Mr. Hearty looked nervously solemn, Mrs. Bindle was uncompromisingly severe, and the other guests all seemed intensely self-conscious. The men gazed about them for some place to put their hats and umbrellas, the women wondered what they should do with their hands. At the further end of the room stood Millie and Charlie Dixon, Millie's hand still tucked through her husband's arm. Never was there such joylessness as in Mr.

Hearty's dining-room that morning.

"'Ullo, 'ullo!" cried Bindle as he entered with Mr. Sopley. "Ain't this a jolly little crowd!"

Millie brightened-up instantaneously, Charlie Dixon looked relieved.

Mr. Hearty dashed forward to welcome Mr. Sopley, tripped over Bindle's cane, which he was holding awkwardly, and landed literally on Mr.

Sopley's bosom.

Mr. Sopley stepped back and struck his head against the edge of the door.

"Look at 'earty tryin' to kiss ole Woe-and-Whiskers," remarked Bindle audibly. Millie giggled, Charlie Dixon smiled, Mrs. Bindle glared, and the rest of the guests looked either disapprovingly at Bindle, or sympathetically at Mr. Hearty and Mr. Sopley. Mrs. Hearty collapsed into a chair and began to undulate with mirth.

"Couldn't we 'ave an 'ymn?" suggested Bindle.

Mr. Hearty looked round from abjectly apologising to Mr. Sopley. He hesitated a moment and glanced towards the harmonium.

"Uncle Joe is only joking, father," said Millie.

Mr. Hearty looked at Bindle reproachfully.

"Now then, let's set down," said Bindle.

After much effort and a considerable expenditure of physical force, he managed to get the guests seated at the table.

At a sign from Mr. Hearty, Mr. Sopley rose to say grace.

Every one but Bindle was watching for the movement, and a sudden silence fell on the a.s.sembly from which Bindle's remark stood out with clear-cut emphasis.

"Ole 'Earty playing 'ockey with 'is top 'at under----" Then Bindle stopped, looking about him with a grin.

Gravely and ponderously Mr. Sopley besought the Lord to make the a.s.sembly grateful for what they were about to receive, and amidst a chorus of "amens" the guests resumed their seats.

The wedding party was a small one. For once Mr. Hearty had found that patriotism was not at issue with economy. The guests consisted of the bridegroom's mother, a gentle, sweet-faced woman with white hair and a sunny smile, her brother-in-law, Mr. John Dixon, a red-faced, hurly-burly type of man, a genial, loud-voiced John Bull, hearty of manner and heavy of hand, and half a dozen friends and relatives of the Heartys.

At the head of the table sat Millie and Charlie Dixon, at the foot was Mr. Sopley. The other guests were distributed without thought or consideration as to precedence. Bindle found himself between Mrs.

Dixon and Mrs. Hearty. Mrs. Bindle was opposite, where she had planted herself to keep watch. Mr. Hearty sat next to Mrs. Dixon, facing Mr. Dixon, whose uncompromising stare Mr. Hearty found it difficult to meet with composure.

Alice, the maid-servant, reinforced by her sister Bertha, heavy of face and flat of foot, attended to the wants of the guests.

The meal began in constrained silence. The first episode resulted from Alice's whispered enquiry if Mr. Dixon would have lime-juice or lemonade.

"Beer!" cried Mr. Dixon in a loud voice.

Alice looked across at Mr. Hearty, who, being quite unequal to the situation, looked at Alice, and then directed his gaze towards Mr.

Sopley.

"I beg pardon, sir?" said Alice.

"Beer!" roared Mr. Dixon.

Everybody began to feel uncomfortable except Bindle, who was watching the little comedy with keen enjoyment.

"We--we----" began Mr. Hearty--"we don't drink beer, Mr. Dixon."

"Don't drink beer?" cried Mr. Dixon in the tone of a man who has just heard that another doesn't wear socks. "Don't drink beer?"

Mr. Hearty shook his head miserably, as if fully conscious of his shortcomings.

"Extraordinary!" said Mr. Dixon, "most extraordinary!"

"Well, I'll have a whisky-and-soda," he conceded magnanimously.

Mr. Hearty rolled his eyes and cast a languishing glance in the direction of Mrs. Bindle.

"We are temperance," said Mr. Hearty.

"What!" roared Mr. Dixon incredulously. "Temperance! temperance at a wedding!"

"Always," said Mr. Hearty.

"Hmmmm!" snorted Mr. Dixon. He glared down the length of the table as if the guests comprised a new species.