ked, "but we'll say no
more about it. I'm not hurt. Good-night." He bared his yellow teeth
in token of forgiveness.

As he passed on, Bindle gazed up at the skies meditatively. "I wonder
if Gawd really likes that sort?" he murmured with a seriousness that
was unusual to him.

Outside the theatre he found waiting for him Charlie Dixon, who greeted
him with:

"Will you bring her again, Mr. Bindle?"

"'Ere, I ain't a nurse, young feller. Nice mess you got me in. It's
all through you that Millikins nearly killed 'er father. Ran clean
into 'im and sort o' knocked the wind out of 'is bellows." Bindle told
the story of the collision with great gusto.

"Now," he continued, "you and me's got to 'ave a talk, an' we'll 'ave a
glass of beer at the same time."

Bindle learned the story of Millie's romance. It appeared that she and
Charlie Dixon, who was in a shipping-office, went to the city by the
same train every morning, Millie being a typist at a wholesale
draper's. Young Dixon had watched her week after week, and he
eventually became acquainted owing to a breakdown on the line, which
resulted in a corresponding breakdown of the passengers' usual reserve.
After that they went up regularly together, met at lunch, after
business hours and on every occasion that Millie could possibly manage
it. Once they had each obtained a half-holiday, which they had spent
at the Zoo.

Charlie Dixon's frankness and obvious devotion to Millie Hearty
entirely won Bindle's heart.

"You will help us, Mr. Bindle, won't you?" he pleaded.

"Look 'ere, young feller," said Bindle, with an unusual note of
seriousness in his voice, "I don't know nothink about yer, an' before I
'elps I got to be sure wot I thinks yer are. Now you jest get me a
letter or two from them as knows wot sort of a villain yer are, an'
then p'r'aps I'll be the same sort of ole fool I been to-night. See?"

They parted with mutual regard and promises to meet again next Friday,
when Charlie Dixon was to bring such documents as would vouch for his
respectability.

"Yes; I been an ole fool," muttered Bindle, as he walked home. "This
'ere business is goin' to lead to trouble between me an' 'Earty. What
a pity people gets it as bad as 'Earty. No man didn't ought to be
religious all the week. It ain't natural."

That night Bindle entered his house whistling "Gospel Bells" with
unaccustomed abandon.

"Been enjoyin' yerself, leavin' me at 'ome to slave and ge