"Gawd started makin' a man, an' then, sort o' losin' interest, 'E made 'Earty. That's wot I think o' your brother-in-law, Mrs. B."

Mrs. Bindle paused in the operation of lifting an iron from the stove and holding its face to her cheek to judge as to its degree of heat. There was a note of contemptuous disgust in Bindle's voice that was new to her.

"You always was jealous of him," she remarked, rubbing a piece of soap on the face of the iron and polishing it vigorously upon a small square of well-worn carpet kept for that purpose. "'E's got on and you haven't, and there's an end of it;" and she brought down the iron fiercely upon a pillow-case.

"Wot d'you think 'e's done now?" demanded Bindle, as he went to the sink and filled a basin for his evening "rinse." Plunging his face into the water, with much puffing and blowing he began to lather it with soapy hands. He had apparently entirely forgotten his question.

"Well, what is it?" enquired Mrs. Bindle at length, too curious longer to remain quiet.

Bindle turned from the sink, soap-suds forming a rim round his face and filling his tightly-shut eyes. He groped with hands extended towards the door behind which hung the roller-towel. Having polished his face to his entire satisfaction, he walked towards the door leading into the passage.

"Well, what's he done now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle again with asperity.

"'E says Millikins ain't goin' to marry Charlie Dixon." There was anger in Bindle's voice.

"You're a nice one," commented Mrs. Bindle, "Always sneerin' at marriage, an' now you're blaming Mr. Hearty because he won't——"

"Well, I'm blowed!" Bindle wheeled round, his good-humour re-asserting itself, "I 'adn't thought o' that."

Having cleared away her ironing, Mrs. Bindle threw the white tablecloth over the table with an angry flourish.

"Now ain't that funny!" continued Bindle, as if highly amused at Mrs. Bindle's discovery. "Now ain't that funny!" he repeated.

"Seems to amuse you," she retorted acidly.

"It does, Mrs. B.; you've jest 'it it. One o' the funniest things I ever come across. 'Ere's me a-tellin' everybody about this chamber of 'orrors wot we call marriage, an' blest if I ain't a-tryin' to shove poor ole Charlie Dixon in an' shut the door on 'im." Bindle grinned expansively.

"Supper'll be ready in five minutes," said Mrs. Bindle with indrawn lips.

"Right-o!" cried Bindle as he made for the door. "I'm goin' to get into my uniform before I 'ops around to see 'Earty. It's wonderful wot a bit o' blue cloth and a peak cap'll do with a cove like 'Earty, specially when I 'appens to be inside. Yes! Mrs. B.," he repeated as he opened the door, "you're right; it does amuse me," and he closed the door softly behind him. Mrs. Bindle expressed her thoughts upon the long-suffering table-appointments.

When Bindle returned in his uniform, supper was ready. For some time the meal proceeded in silence.

"Funny thing," he remarked at length, "I can swallow most things from stewed-steak to 'alf-cooked 'ymns, but 'Earty jest sticks in my gizzard."

"You're jealous, that's what you are," remarked Mrs. Bindle with conviction.

"A man wot could be jealous of 'Earty." said Bindle, "ain't safe to be let out, only on a chain. Why don't 'e try an' bring a little 'appiness down 'ere instead o' sayin' it's all in 'eaven, with you an' 'im a-sittin' on the lid. Makes life like an 'addock wot's been rejooced in price, it does."

"What are you goin' to say to Mr. Hearty?" enquired Mrs. Bindle suspiciously.

"Well," remarked Bindle, "that depends rather on wot 'Earty's goin' to say to me."

"You've no right to interfere in his affairs."

"You're quite right, Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle, "that's wot makes it so pleasant. I 'aven't no right to punch 'Earty's 'ead; but one of these days I know I shall do it. Never see an 'ead in all my life wot looked so invitin' as 'Earty's. Seems to be crying-out to be punched, it does."

"You didn't ought to go round upsetting him," said Mrs. Bindle aggressively. "He's got enough troubles."

"'E's goin' to 'ave another to-night, Mrs. B.; an' if 'e ain't careful, 'e'll probably 'ave another to-morrow night."

Mrs. Bindle banged the lid on a dish.

"You ain't against them kids a-gettin' married, are you?" Bindle demanded. "You used to be sort of fond of Millikins."

"No! I'm not against it; but I'm not goin' to interfere in Mr. Hearty's affairs," said Mrs. Bindle virtuously.

"Well, I am," said Bindle grimly, as he rose and reached for his cap. A moment later he left the room, whistling cheerily.

At the Heartys' house Millie opened the door.

"Oh, Uncle Joe!" she cried, "I wondered whether you would come."

"Course I'd come, Millikins," said Bindle. "Now you jest run and tell your father that I want to 'ave a little talk with 'im in the drawing-room, then you'll turn on the light an' be'ave as if I was a real lemonade-swell."

Millie smiled tremulously and led the way upstairs. Ushering Bindle into the drawing-room, she switched on the light and went out, gently closing the door behind her.

Five minutes later Mr. Hearty entered. From the movement of his fingers, it was obvious that he was ill at ease.

"'Ullo, 'Earty!" said Bindle genially.

"Good evening, Joseph," responded Mr. Hearty.

"Trade good?" enquired Bindle conversationally.

"Quite good, thank you, Joseph," was the response.

"Goin' to open any more shops?" was the next question.

Mr. Hearty shook his head.

Bindle sucked contentedly at his pipe.

"Won't you sit down, 'Earty?" he asked solicitously.

Mr. Hearty sat down mechanically, then, a moment later, rose to his feet.

"Now, 'Earty," said Bindle, "you and me are goin' to 'ave a little talk about Millikins."

Mr. Hearty stiffened visibly.

"I—I don't understand," he said.

"You jest wait a minute, 'Earty, an' you'll understand a rare lot. Now are you, or are you not, goin' to let them kids get married?"

"Most emphatically not," said Mr. Hearty with decision. "Millie is too young; she's not twenty yet."

"Now ain't you jest tiresome, 'Earty. 'Ere 'ave I been arrangin' for the weddin' for next Toosday, and you go and say it ain't comin' orf; you should 'ave told me this before."

"But Millie only asked me this morning," protested Mr. Hearty, whose literalness always placed him at a disadvantage with Bindle.

"Did she really?" remarked Bindle. "Dear me! an' she knew she was goin' to get married last night. Never could understand women," he remarked, shaking his head hopelessly.

Mr. Hearty was at a loss. He had been prepared for unpleasantness; but this geniality on the part of his brother-in-law he found disarming.

"I have been forced to tell you before, Joseph," he said with some asperity, "that I cannot permit you to interfere in my private affairs."

"Quite right, 'Earty," agreed Bindle genially, "quite right, you said it in them very words." Bindle's imperturbability caused Mr. Hearty to look at him anxiously.

"Then why do you come here to-night and—and——?" He broke off nervously.

"I was always like that, 'Earty. Never seemed able to take no for an answer. Now wot are you goin' to give 'em for a weddin'-breakfast?" he enquired. "An' 'ave we got to bring our own meat-tickets?"

"I have just told you, Joseph," remarked Mr. Hearty angrily, "that they are not going to be married."

"Now ain't that a pity," remarked Bindle, as, having re-filled his pipe, he proceeded to light it. "Now ain't that a pity. I been and fixed it all up with Charlie Dixon, and now 'ere are you a-upsettin' of my plans. I don't like my plans upset, 'Earty; I don't really."

Mr. Hearty looked at Bindle in amazement. This was to him a new Bindle. He had been prepared for anything but this attitude, which seemed to take everything for granted.

"I shouldn't make it a big weddin', 'Earty. There ain't time for that, and jest a nice pleasant little weddin'-breakfast. A cake, of course; you must 'ave a cake. No woman don't feel she's married without a cake. She'd sooner 'ave a cake than an 'usband."

"I tell you, Joseph, that I shall not allow Millie to marry this young man on Tuesday. I am very busy and I must——"

"I shouldn't go, 'Earty, if I was you. I shouldn't really; I should jest stop 'ere and listen to wot I 'ave to say."

"I have been very patient with you for some years past, Joseph," began Mr. Hearty, "and I must confess——"

"You 'ave, 'Earty," interrupted Bindle quietly, looking at him over a flaming match, "you 'ave. If you wasn't wanted in the greengrocery line, you'd 'ave been on a monument, you're that patient. 'As it ever struck you, 'Earty,"—there was a sterner note in Bindle's voice,—"'as it ever struck you that sometimes coves is patient because they're afraid to knock the other cove down?"

"I refuse to discuss such matters, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty with dignity.

"Well, well, 'Earty! p'raps you're right," responded Bindle. "Least said, soonest mended. So them kids ain't goin' to get married on Toosday, you say," he continued calmly.

"I thought I had made that clear." Mr. Hearty's hands shook with nervousness.

"You 'ave, 'Earty, you 'ave," said Bindle mournfully.

"What right have you to—to interfere in—in such matters?" demanded Mr. Hearty, deliberately endeavouring to work himself up into a state of indignation. "Millie shall marry when I please, and her husband shall be of my choosing."

Bindle looked at Mr. Hearty in surprise. He had never known him so determined.

"You think because you're Martha's brother-in-law,"—Mr. Hearty was meticulously accurate in describing the exact relationship existing between them,—"that gives you a right to—to order me about," he concluded rather lamely.

"Look 'ere, 'Earty!" said Bindle calmly, "if you goes on like that, you'll be ill."

"I have been meaning to speak to you for some time past," continued Mr. Hearty, gaining courage. "Once and for all you must cease to interfere in my affairs, if we are to—to continue—er——"

"Brothers in the Lord," suggested Bindle.

"There is another thing, Joseph," proceeded Mr. Hearty. "I—I have more than a suspicion that you know something about those—that—the——" Mr. Hearty paused.

"Spit it out, 'Earty," said Bindle encouragingly. "There ain't no ladies present."

"If—if there are any more disturbances in—in my neighbourhood," continued Mr. Hearty, "I shall put the matter in the hands of the police. I—I have taken legal advice." As he uttered the last sentence Mr. Hearty looked at Bindle as if expecting him to quail under the implied threat.

"'Ave you really!" was Bindle's sole comment.

"I have a clue!" There was woolly triumph in Mr. Hearty's voice.

"You don't say so!" said Bindle with unruffled calm. "You better see the panel doctor, an' 'ave it taken out."

Mr. Hearty was disappointed at the effect of what he had hoped would prove a bombshell.

"Now, Joseph, I must be going," said Mr. Hearty, "I am very busy." Mr. Hearty looked about him as if seeking something with which to be busy.

"So Millikins ain't goin' to be allowed to marry Charlie Dixon?" said Bindle with gloomy resignation as he rose.

"Certainly not," said Mr. Hearty. "My mind is made up."

"Nothink wouldn't make you change it, I suppose?" enquired Bindle.

"Nothing, Joseph." There was no trace of indecision in Mr. Hearty's voice now.

"Pore little Millikins!" said Bindle sadly as he moved towards the door, "I done my best. Pore little Millikins!" he repeated as he reached for the door-handle.

Mr. Hearty's spirits rose. He wondered why he had not asserted himself before. He had been very weak, lamentably weak. Still he now knew how to act should further difficulties arise through Bindle's unpardonable interference in his affairs.

Bindle opened the door, then closed it again, as if he had just remembered something. "You was sayin' that you been to your lawyer, 'Earty," he said.

"I have consulted my solicitor." Mr. Hearty looked swiftly at Bindle, at a loss to understand the reason for the question.

"Useful sometimes knowin' a lawyer," remarked Bindle, looking intently into the bowl of his pipe. Suddenly he looked up into Mr. Hearty's face. "You'll be wantin' 'im soon, 'Earty."

"What do you mean?" There was ill-disguised alarm in Mr. Hearty's voice.

"I see an ole pal o' yours yesterday, 'Earty," said Bindle as he opened the door again. "Ratty she was with you. She's goin' to make trouble, I'm afraid. Well, s'long 'Earty! I must be orf;" and Bindle went out into the passage.

"Joseph," called out Mr. Hearty, "I want to speak to you."

Bindle re-entered. Mr. Hearty walked round him and shut the door stealthily.

"What do you mean, Joseph?" There was fear in Mr. Hearty's voice and eyes.

Bindle walked up to him and whispered something in his ear.

"I—I——" Mr. Hearty stuttered and paled. "My God!"

"You see, 'Earty, she told me all about it at the time," said Bindle calmly.

"It's a lie, a damned lie!" shouted Mr. Hearty.

"'Ush, 'Earty, 'ush!" said Bindle gently. "Such language from you! Oh, naughty! 'Earty, naughty!"

"It's a lie, I tell you." Mr. Hearty's voice was almost tearful. "It's a wicked endeavour to ruin me."

"All you got to do, 'Earty," said Bindle, "is to go to ole Six-an'-Eightpence an' 'ave 'er up."

"It's a lie, I tell you," said Mr. Hearty weakly as he sank down upon the couch.

"So you jest said," remarked Bindle calmly. "I thought I better let you know she was goin' up to tell the Ole Bird on the 'Ill. Women is funny things, 'Earty, when you gets their goat. She asked me if I'd mind 'er goin'. Says she wouldn't do anythink I didn't want 'er to, because I was the only one wot stood by 'er. Made a rare fuss, she did, though it wasn't much I done. Well, 'Earty, you're busy, an' I must be orf." Bindle made a movement towards the door.

"Joseph, you must stop her!" Mr. Hearty sprang up, his eyes dilated with fear.

"Me!" exclaimed Bindle in surprise. "It ain't nothink to do with me. You jest been tellin' me I'm always a-buttin' in where I ain't wanted, and now——"

"But—but you must, Joseph," pleaded Mr. Hearty. "If this was to get about, it would ruin me."

"Now ain't you funny, 'Earty," said Bindle. "'Ere are you a-wantin' me to do wot you said 'urt your feelin's."

"If you do this, Joseph, I'll—I'll——"

Bindle looked at Mr. Hearty steadily. "I'll try," he said, "an' now I must be 'oppin'. Toosday I think was the date. I suppose you'll be 'avin' it at the chapel? I'd like to 'ave a word with Millikins before I go. I'll come into the parlour with you, 'Earty."

"You will see——" began Mr. Hearty.

"Right-o!" replied Bindle cheerfully. "You leave it to me."

Mr. Hearty turned meekly and walked downstairs to the parlour, where Mrs. Hearty and Millie were seated.

"It's all right, Millikins, your father says 'e don't object. I persuaded 'im that you're old enough to know your own mind."

Millie jumped up and ran to Bindle.

"Oh, Uncle Joe, you darling!" she cried.

"Yes, ain't I? that's wot all the ladies tell me, Millikins. Makes your Aunt Lizzie so cross, it does."

"'Ullo, Martha!" he cried. "'Ope you got a pretty dress for next Toosday. A weddin', wot'o! Now I must be orf. There's a rare lot o' burglars in Fulham, an' when they 'ears I'm out, Lord! they runs 'ome like bunnies to their 'utches. Good night, 'Earty; cheer-o, Martha! Give us a kiss, Millikins;" and Bindle went out, shown to the door by Millie.

"Oh, Uncle Joe, you're absolutely wonderful! I think you could do anything in the world," she said.

"I wonder," muttered Bindle, as he walked off, "if they'll charge me up with that little fairy tale I told 'Earty."