"yer would become wot they calls a widder.
Then yer could marry into the chapel and you an' 'im 'ud go to 'eaven
'and in 'and."

Mrs. Bindle snorted and started to rake out the kitchen fire. Whenever
Mrs. Bindle reached the apex of her wrath, an attack upon the kitchen
fire was inevitable. Suddenly she would conceive the idea that it was
not burning as it should burn, and she would rake and dab and poke
until at last forced to relight it.

Bindle watched her with interest.

"The next worst thing to bein' Mrs. Bindle's 'usband," he muttered, "is
to be a bloomin' kitchen fire with 'er at the other end of a poker."
Then aloud he said, "You'd get an allowance while I'm away, and a
pension when I dies o' killin' too many Germans."

Mrs. Bindle paused. "How much?" she asked practically.

"Oh, about a pound a week," said Bindle recklessly.

Mrs. Bindle put down the poker and proceeded to wash up. She seemed
for ever washing up or sweeping. Presently she enquired:

"When are you goin'?"

"Well," said Bindle, "I thought of trottin' round to the War Office
this afternoon and breakin' the news. It'll sort o' buck 'em up to
know that I'm comin'."

Mrs. Bindle raised no further objections.

It was Saturday afternoon, and Bindle's time was his own. He joined
the queue outside the Recruiting Station in the Fulham Road and
patiently waited his turn, incidentally helping to pass the time of
those around him by his pungent remarks.

"Lord!" he remarked, "we're a funny sort o' crowd to beat the Germans.
Look at us: we ain't got a chest among the 'ole bloomin' lot."

At length Bindle stood before the recruiting officer, cap in hand and a
happy look on his face.

"Name?" enquired the officer.

"Joseph Bindle."

"Age?"

"Wot's the age limit?" enquired Bindle cautiously.

"Thirty-eight."

"Then put me down as thirty-seven and a 'arf," he replied.

The officer looked up quickly. There was just the suspicion of a smile
in his eyes. This was the type of man he liked.

After a few more questions he was turned over to the doctor, who
ordered him to strip.

After a very rapid examination the doctor remarked:

"You won't do--varicose veins."

"Beg pardon, sir?" said Bindle.

"Varicose veins," said the doctor.

"An' 'oo's 'e when 'e's at 'ome?" enquired Bindle.

"You have got varicose veins in the legs and therefore you cannot
enlist." The doctor was tired and impatient.

"But ain't you got veins in your