Adventures of Bindle Part 24

"'Ullo, 'Earty!" he cried genially. "'Ere, call 'er orf," indicating Alice with a jerk of his thumb. "Seems to 'ave taken a fancy to me--an' she ain't the first neither," he added.

Mrs. Bindle motioned to Alice to free Bindle, which she did reluctantly.

Bindle looked round the room with interest.

"This the little lot, 'Earty?" he enquired in a hoa.r.s.e whisper audible to all. "Don't look a very cheer-o crowd, do they? The idea of goin'

to 'eaven seems to make 'em low-spirited."

Bindle regarded Mr. MacFie intently, then turning to Mr. Muskett, who happened to be standing near him, he remarked:

"Can't you see 'im in a night-s.h.i.+rt with wings and an 'arp, a-flutterin' about like a little canary. Wonderful place, 'eaven, sir," said Bindle, looking up at Mr. Muskett.

"Sir!" boomed Mr. Muskett.

Bindle started back, then recovering himself and, leaning forward slightly, he said:

"Do you mind doin' that again, sir, jest to see if I can stand it without jumping."

Mr. Muskett glared at him, swung round on his heel and joined Mr.

Tuddenham at the other end of the room.

"Seem to 'ave trod on 'is toes," muttered Bindle as he watched Mr.

Muskett obviously explaining to Mr. Tuddenham the insult to which he had just been subjected.

Bindle looked about him with interest, the only guest who seemed thoroughly comfortable and at home. Suddenly his eye caught sight of the text above the refreshment-table, and he grinned broadly. Looking about him for someone to share the joke, he took a step towards his nearest neighbour, Miss Torkington.

"Ain't 'e a knock-out!" he remarked, nudging her with his elbow.

"I beg your pardon!" said Miss Torkington, lifting her chin and folding her hands before her.

"'Im, 'Earty," said Bindle, "ain't 'e a knock-out! Look at that! 'So shall Ye All Likewise Perish,'" he read. "Fancy sticking that up over the grub."

Miss Torkington, her hands still folded before her, with head in the air, wheeled round and walked away in what she conceived to be a dignified manner.

Bindle slowly turned and watched her.

"Quaint old bird," he muttered. "I wonder wot I said to 'urt 'er feelin's."

The glee-party of four had formed up near the harmonium. Mr. Hearty was in earnest conversation with the leader. He wished to see Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick's arrival heralded with appropriate music. The leader of the singers was a man whose serious visage convinced Mr. Hearty that to him might safely be left the selection of "the extra" that was to welcome the patroness of the occasion. Mr. Hearty was unaware that in the leader's heart was a smouldering anger against Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick on account of her rudeness in the recent correspondence that had taken place. Furthermore, he had already received his fee.

"Hi, 'Earty!" Bindle called to Mr. Hearty as he left the leader of the glee-party. "When's the Ole Bird comin'?"

Mr. Hearty turned. "The old bird?" he interrogated with lifted eyebrows.

"Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick," bawled Alice, throwing open the door with a flourish.

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick sailed into the room, her head held high in supercilious superiority. Following her came her companion, Miss Strint, who had carried self-suppression and toadyism to the point of inspiration. Immediately behind came John, Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick's footman, bearing before him the illuminated address, the purse containing fifty Treasury pound notes, and the silver-mounted hot-water bottle.

Bindle started clapping vigorously. Two or three other guests followed suit; but the look Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick cast about her proved to them conclusively that Bindle had done the wrong thing.

"It is most kind of your ladys.h.i.+p to come." Mr. Hearty fussed about Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, walking deprecatingly upon his toes. She appeared entirely oblivious of his presence. He turned towards the harmonium and made frantic signals to the leader of the glee-party. Suddenly the quartette broke into song, every word ringing out clearly and distinctly:

There's the blue eye and the brown eye, the grave eye and the sad, There's the pink eye and the green eye and the eye that's rolling mad; But of all the eyes that eye me, be they merciful or bad, The eye that I would choose is what they call "The Glad."

THE GLAD EYE.

The last line was rolled out sonorously by the ba.s.s.

The company looked at one another in amazement. Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, scarlet with rage, glared through her lorgnettes at the singers and then at Mr. Hearty, who from where he stood petrified gazed wonderingtly at the glee-party. Mrs. Bindle, with great presence of mind, moved swiftly across the room, and caught the falsetto by the lapel of the coat just as he had opened his mouth to begin his solo verse, dealing with the knowledge acquired by a flapper from the country in the course of a fortnight's holiday in London. Mrs. Bindle made it clear to the leader that as far as the Alton Road Chapel was concerned he was indulging in an optical delusion.

"We are all deeply honoured by your Leddys.h.i.+p's presence this evening," said Mr. MacFie, throwing himself into the breach. "It is----"

"Get me a chair," demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, still glaring in the direction of the glee-singers.

Bindle rushed at her with a frail-looking hemp-seated chair, which he proceeded to flick with his red silk pocket-handkerchief.

"One be enough, mum?" he enquired solicitously.

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick regarded him through her lorgnettes.

Mr. Sopley had been detached from his contemplation of the ceiling, and was now led up to Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "we are indeed greatly honoured."

"'Ere, 'ere!" broke in Bindle, attracting to himself the attention of the whole a.s.sembly.

"Will your Ladys.h.i.+p make the presentation now?" enquired Mr. Hearty, "or----"

"Now!" was Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick's uncompromising reply, as she seated herself. "Fetch a table, please," she added, indicating, with an inclination of her head, her footman, who stood with what Bindle called "the prizes."

Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gash trotted off to fetch a small table from the corner of the room. This was placed in front of Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, and on it John deposited the illuminated address, the bag containing the notes, and the silver-mounted hot-water bottle.

A hush of expectancy fell upon the a.s.sembly. Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick rose and was greeted by respectful applause. Her manner was that of a peac.o.c.k deigning to acknowledge the existence of a group of sparrows.

From a dorothy-bag she drew a typewritten paper, which she proceeded to read.

"I have been asked to present to the Rev. James Sopley, as a mark of the esteem in which he is held by his flock, an illuminated address, a purse of fifty pounds, and a silver-mounted hot-water bottle"--she paused for a moment--"a trifle that shall remind him of the loving hearts he has left behind. (Murmurs of respectful appreciation.)

"Mr. Sopley has fought the good fight in Fulham for upwards of twenty-five years, and he is now about to retire to enjoy the rest that he has so well and thoroughly earned. ("'Ere, 'ere!" from Bindle.) I trust and hope that the Lord will spare him for many years to come. ("I'm sure I would if I was Gawd," whispered Bindle to Mr.

Tuddenham, who only glared at him.)

"We have now among us," continued Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, "a new pastor, a man of sterling worth and sound religious principles. ("That's you!"

said Bindle in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, nudging Mr. MacFie who stood next to him.) I have," proceeded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, "sat under him ("Oh, naughty! naughty!" whispered Bindle. Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick glared at him),--sat--sat under him for a number of years at Barton Bridge, where he will always be remembered as a man devoted to" ("Temperance fetes!" interpolated Bindle.)

The result of the interruption was electrical. Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick dropped her lorgnettes and lost her place. Mr. MacFie's "adam's apple"

moved up and down with alarming rapidity, testifying to the great emotional ordeal through which he was pa.s.sing. Mr. Hearty looked at Mrs. Bindle, Mrs. Bindle looked at Bindle, everybody looked at everybody else, because everyone had heard of the Temperance Fete fiasco. Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick resumed her seat suddenly.

Then it was that Mr. Hearty had an inspiration. With a swift movement which precipitated him on the foot of Miss Torkington (whose anguished expression caused Bindle to mutter, "Fancy 'er bein' able to do that with 'er face!"), he landed beside Mr. Sopley. He managed to detach his eyes from their contemplation of the ceiling and impress on him that he had better make a reply. As he walked the few steps necessary to reach the table, Bindle once more started clapping vigorously, a greeting that was taken up by several of the other guests, but in a more modified manner.

In a mournful and foreboding voice, thoroughly appropriate to an hour of national disaster, Mr. Sopley thanked Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick for her words, and the others for their notes. He referred to the shepherd, dragged in the sheep, scooped up the righteous, cast out the sinners; in short he said all the most obvious things in the most obvious manner. He promised the Alton Roaders harps and halos, and threw the rest of Fulham into the bottomless pit. With some dexterity he linked-up sin and the taxi-cab, saw in the motor-omnibus the cause of the weakening moral-fibre of the working-cla.s.ses, expressed it as his conviction that Europe was being drenched in blood because Fulham thought less of faith than of football.