unk," Bindle continued,
"because 'e do look 'appy when 'e's got a skin-full; but I can't
understand you a-wantin' to pray, 'Earty, I can't really. I only once
see a lot o' religious people 'appy, an' that was when they got drunk
by mistake. Lord, didn't they teach me an' ole 'Uggles things! 'E
blushes like a gal when I mentions it. 'Uggles 'as a nice mind, 'e
'as.

"Well, I must be goin', 'Earty, in case them 'Uns come over to-night.
You ought to be a special, 'Earty, there's some rare fine gals on
Putney 'Ill."

"Do you think there'll be an air-raid to-night?" asked Mr. Gupperduck
with something more than casual interest in his voice.

"May be," said Bindle casually, "may be not. Funny things, air-raids,
they've changed a rare lot o' things," he remarked meditatively. "Once
we used to want the moon to come out, sort o' made us think of gals
and settin' on stiles. Mrs. B. was a rare one for moons and stiles,
wasn't you, Lizzie?"

"Don't be disgusting, Bindle." There was anger in Mrs. Bindle's voice.

"Now," continued Bindle imperturbably, "no cove don't want to go out
an' set on a stile a-'oldin' of a gal's 'and: not 'im. When 'is job's
done, 'e starts orf for 'ome like giddy-o, an' you don't see 'is nose
again till the next mornin'."

Bindle paused to wink at Mr. Hearty.

"If there's any gal now," he continued, "wot wants 'er 'and 'eld on
moonlight nights, she'll 'ave to 'old it 'erself, or wait till peace
comes."

"If you would only believe, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck
earnestly, making a final effort at Bindle's salvation. "'If thou
canst believe, all things are possible.' Ah!"

Mr. Gupperduck started into an upright position with eyes dilated as a
loud report was heard.

"What was that?" he cried.

"That," remarked Bindle drily, as he rose and picked up his peaked
cap, "is the signal for you an' 'Earty to put your trust in Gawd. In
other words," he added, "it's a gun, 'im wot Fulham calls 'The
Barker.'"

Bindle looked from Mr. Hearty, leaden-hued with fright, to Mr.
Gupperduck, whose teeth were chattering, on to Mrs. Bindle, who was
white to the lips.

"Well, I must be orf," he said, adjusting his cap upon his head at a
rakish angle. "If I don't come back, Mrs. B., you'll be a widow, an'
widows are wonderful things. Cheer-o! all."

Bindle turned and left the room, his niece Millie following him out
into the passage.

"Uncle Joe," she said, clutching hold of his coat sleeve, "you will be
c