Bindle in an injured tone.

"Talkin' about babies' legs, and--and--oh! you make me ashamed, you
do." Mrs. Bindle proceeded to bang away the supper things.

"Steady on," admonished Bindle, "or you'll 'ave the Duck out o' bed."

"What must 'e think of me with such an 'usband?" Mrs. Bindle's aitches
were dropping from her under the stress of her pent-up feelings.

"Well! speakin' for myself," said Bindle, relighting his pipe, which
had gone out, "he most likely thinks you're an uncommon lucky woman.
You see, Lizzie," Bindle continued evenly, "you're fickle, that's
wot's the matter with you."

Mrs. Bindle paused in the act of pouring water over the piled-up
dishes in the sink.

"As soon as you sees another cove wot takes your fancy, you sort o'
loses your taste for your own 'usband."

Bindle seated himself at the table and spread out the evening paper.

"First it's 'Earty, then it's Gupperduck. Now I ask you, Mrs. B., wot
would you think if I was to say we must 'ave a woman lodger? Now I ask
you!"

"That's quite different," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily. "Mr. Gupperduck
is----"

"A sort o' prayer-'og in trousers, judgin' from 'is talk," interrupted
Bindle. "Me an' 'im ain't goin' to fall out, though you did give 'im a
extra dose o' gravy; at the same time we ain't goin' to fall in love
with each other. If 'e pays 'is rent an' behaves quiet like, then I
'aven't nothink to say, for wot's an 'ome without a lodger; but it's
got to be 'ands orf my missis, see!"

"Bindle, you're a dirty-minded beast," retorted Mrs. Bindle, snapping
her jaws viciously.

"That may, or may not be," replied Bindle as he walked towards the
door on his way to bed; "but if you an' 'im start givin' each other
the glad-eye, then I'm 'urt in my private feelin's, an' when I'm 'urt
in my private feelin's, I'm 'ot stuff," and he winked gravely at the
text on the kitchen wall containing some home truths for the
transgressor.

CHAPTER II

A DOWNING STREET SENSATION

"Me ride eight miles on an 'orse!" exclaimed Bindle, looking up at the
foreman in surprise. "An' who's a-comin' to 'old me on?"

Bindle stood in the yard of Messrs. Empsom & Daley, cartage
contractors, regarding a pair of burly cart-horses, ready-harnessed,
with the traces thrown over their backs.

The foreman explained in the idiom adopted by foreman that "orders is
orders."

"You can ride on top, run beside, or 'ang on be'ind; but you got to be
at Merton at twelve o'cl