That same evening, having laden the van with such of the property and tents as had not been utilised for bonfires and missiles, Bindle took his seat on the tail-board, and the van lumbered off in the direction of London.
He proceeded to review the events of the day. What particularly diverted him was the recollection of the way in which horses and vehicles had been mixed up.
When he had returned to the High Street he found there numbers of those who had visited the Fete and were now desirous only of getting home. He helped them to harness their horses, a.s.suring them that the beasts were theirs. If he were asked for a dog-cart he selected the first to hand, and then sought out a horse of suitable size and harnessed it to the vehicle.
If any demur were made, or if identification marks were sought, he hurried the objector off, telling him that he ought to be glad he had got a horse at all.
Bindle was grinning comfortably at the thought of the days it would take to sort out the horses and vehicles, when he saw in the distance a bicycle being ridden by someone obviously in a hurry.
As it came nearer he recognised the rider as d.i.c.k Little, who pedalled up beside the van and tendered a sovereign to Bindle.
"No, sir," Bindle remarked, shaking his head. "I"m a bit of a sport myself. Lord! wasn"t they drunk!" He chuckled quietly. "That young parson chap, too. No, sir, I been paid in fun."
After a somewhat lengthy discussion carried on in whispers, so that the driver should not hear, Bindle suggested that d.i.c.k Little had better come inside the van, as if anyone were to see them it might result in suspicion.
"Yer seem to like a little joke," he added. "I can tell yer about some as won"t make yer want to cry."
An hour later, when d.i.c.k Little hunched his bicycle from the tail of the van he said:
"Well, come and see me in London; I"m generally in Sunday evenings."
"Right, sir; I will," replied Bindle; "but might I arst, sir, wot it was that made "em so fidgety?"
"It was pure alcohol mixed with distilled mead," was the reply.
"Well, it done the trick. Good-night, sir. Lord! won"t there be some "eads wantin" "oldin" in the mornin"," and he laughed joyously as the pantechnicon rumbled noisily Londonwards.
CHAPTER X
MR. HEARTY PRAYS FOR BINDLE
Mrs. Bindle had just returned from evening chapel. On Sundays, especially on Sunday evenings, when there had been time for the c.u.mulative effect of her devotions to manifest itself, Mrs. Bindle was always in a chastened mood. She controlled those gusts of temper which plunged her back into the Doric and precipitated Bindle "into "ell, dust an" all."
On this particular evening she was almost gentle. The bangs with which she accentuated the placing of each plate and dish upon the table were piano bangs, and Bindle duly noted the circ.u.mstance.
With him Sunday was always a day of intellectual freedom. He aired his views more freely on that than on other days.
Having laid the supper, Mrs. Bindle began to remove her bonnet. With a hat-pin in her mouth and her hands stretched behind her head in the act of untying an obstreperous veil that rested like a black line across the bridge of her nose, she remarked, in that casual tone which with her betokened an item of great interest and importance:
"Mr. Hearty prayed for you to-night, Bindle."
Bindle sat up in his chair as if he had been shot.
""Earty wot?" he interrogated, with unaccustomed anger in his voice, and an unwonted flash in his eye. ""Earty wot?"
"He prayed for you," replied Mrs. Bindle in what was for her a hushed voice; "a beautiful prayer about a brother who had fallen by the wayside, a wheat-ear among thorns."
""E prayed for me-"im?"
Bindle removed his pipe from his mouth, and gripping the bowl between thumb and finger, pointed what remained of the stem at Mrs. Bindle, as she stuck a hat-pin through her bonnet and placed it on the dresser.
""E prayed for me?" The words came with such deliberation and intensity that Mrs. Bindle glanced round sharply.
"Yes!" she snapped, "an" you want it. You"re nothin" but an "eathen." Mrs. Bindle was forgetting her careful articulation.
"A brother fallen by the roadside--"
"Wayside," corrected Mrs. Bindle, as she banged a loaf on the table.
"A brother "oo "as fallen by the wayside, a wheat-ear among thorns," murmured Bindle as if to himself. Suddenly he grinned; the humour of the thing seemed to strike him. "Prayed for in church-leastwise chapel-jest like the Royal Family an" rain. You"re comin" on, Joe Bindle," he chuckled.
"Seems to amuse you," remarked Mrs. Bindle as she took her place at the table.
"Yer"ve "it it," replied Bindle, as he skilfully opened the tin of salmon. "Yer"ve just "it it. Alfred "Earty was sent to annoy "eaven with "is "ymns and tickle up Joe Bindle with "is prayers."
"If you was more like what he is, you"d be a better man."
""Earty is as "Earty does," flashed Bindle with a grin. Then after a pause to enable him to reduce a particularly large mouthful of bread and salmon to conversational proportions, he continued:
"If I "ad the runnin" of this "ere world, there"d be some rather big alterations, with a sort of "end o" the season" sale, an" there"d be some pretty cheap lines in parsons an" greengrocers, not to speak of chapel-goers."
"I"m surprised at you, Bindle, talking such blasphemies in a Christian "ome. Unless you stop I"ll go out."
"Not while there"s any salmon left, Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle oracularly.
"You"re a bad man. I done my best, I"m sure--"
"You "ave; if yer"d done yer second best or yer third best, Joe Bindle might "a been a better man than wot "e is." Bindle dug a morsel of salmon out of the tin with the point of his knife. "I been too well brought up, that"s wot"s the matter wi" me."
"You"re always scoffin" and sneerin" at me an" the chapel," responded Mrs. Bindle tartly. "It don"t hurt me, whatever you may think."
"There you"re wrong, me blossom." Bindle was in high spirits. His mind had been busily at work, and he saw a way of "bein" a bloomin" thorn in "Earty"s wheat-ear "ole."
"I ain"t a scoffer; it"s just that I don"t understan" "ow a thing wot was meant to make people "appy, seems to make "em about as joyful as a winkle wot feels the pin."
"Winkles are boiled first," retorted the literal Mrs. Bindle, wiping round her plate with a piece of bread; "an" bein" dead don"t feel pins. I wouldn"t eat them if it hurt. Besides, winkles haven"t anythin" to do with religion."
"That"s wot makes "em so tasty," retorted Bindle. "You an" "Earty "ave sort o" spoiled me appet.i.te for religion; but winkles still "old me." After a short silence he continued, "I never see a religious cove yet wot I "ad any likin" for, leastwise, wot said "e was religious. It"s a funny thing, but as soon as people become good they seems to get about as comfortable to live with as an "edge"og in bed.
"Funny thing, religion," Bindle continued. "There was one cove I know"d "oo spent "is time in "avin" D.T."s and gettin" saved, about "alf an" "alf, with a slight leanin" to D.T."s. We called "im Suds an" Salvation, "suds" bein" "is name for beer.
"Look at "Earty, now. "E"s always talkin" of "eaven, but "e ain"t in no "urry to get there. "E"s as nippy as a cat if "e "ears a motor "ooter when "e"s crossin" the road; and "e "ustles like "ell to get inside of a bus when it"s rainin"."
"His life is not "is own, and he"s waitin" his call."
Bindle looked up with a laugh.