Mrs. Bindle Part 33

For some seconds he stood gazing down on the grovelling form of Mr.

Hearty, an anxious eye on the bull which, with angry snorts, was battering the gate in a manner that caused him some concern.

"Look 'ere, 'Earty, you'd better nip orf," he said at length, bringing his boot gently into contact with a prominent portion of the greengrocer's prostrate form. Mr. Hearty merely groaned and muttered appeals to the Almighty to save him.

"It ain't no use a-kickin' up all that row," Bindle continued. "This 'ere bit o' beef seems to 'ave taken a fancy to you, 'Earty, an' that there gate ain't none too strong, neither. 'Ere, steady Kayser," he admonished, as the bull made a vicious dash with its head against the gate.

Mr. Hearty sat up and gave a wild look about him. At the sight of the blood-shot eyes of the enraged animal he scrambled to his feet.

"Now you make a bolt for that there stile," said Bindle, jerking his thumb in the direction where Mrs. Bindle had just disappeared, "and you'll find Mrs. B. somewhere on the other side."

With another apprehensive glance at the bull, Mr. Hearty turned and made towards the stile. His pace was strangely suggestive of a man cheating in a walking-race.

The sight of his quarry escaping seemed still further to enrage the bull. With a terrifying roar it dashed furiously at the gate.

The sound of the roar lent wings to the feet of the flying Mr. Hearty.

Throwing aside all pretence, he made precipitately towards the stile, beyond which lay safety. For a few seconds, Bindle stood watching the flying figure of his brother-in-law. Then he turned off to the right, along the hedge dividing the meadow from the field occupied by the bull.

"Well, 'ere's victory or Westminster Abbey," he muttered as he crept through a hole in the hawthorn, hoping that the bull would not observe him. His object was to warn the farmer of the animal's escape.

Half an hour later, he climbed the stile over which Mrs. Bindle had disappeared; but there was no sign either of her or of Mr. Hearty.

It was not until he reached the Summer-Camp that he found them seated outside the Bindles' tent. Mr. Hearty, looking pasty of feature, was endeavouring to convey to his blanched lips a cup of tea that Mrs.

Bindle had just handed to him; but the trembling of his hand caused it to slop over the side of the cup on to his trousers.

"'Ullo, 'ere we are again," cried Bindle cheerily.

"I wonder you aren't ashamed of yourself," cried Mrs. Bindle.

Bindle stared at her with a puzzled expression. He looked at Mr. Hearty, then back again at Mrs. Bindle.

"Leaving Mr. Hearty and me like that. We might have been killed." Her voice shook.

"That would 'ave been a short cut to 'arps an' wings."

"I'm ashamed of you, that I am," she continued, while Mr. Hearty turned upon his brother-in-law a pair of mildly reproachful eyes.

"Well, I'm blowed," muttered Bindle as he walked away. "If them two ain't IT. _Me_ a-leavin' _them_. If that ain't a juicy bit."

Mr. Hearty was only half-way through his second cup of tea when the Bishop of Fulham, followed by several of the summer-campers, appeared and walked briskly towards them.

"Where's that husband of yours, Mrs. Bindle?" he enquired, as if he suspected Bindle of hiding from him.

"I'm sure I don't know, sir," she cried, rising, whilst Mr. Hearty, in following suit, stepped upon the tails of his coat and slopped the rest of the tea over his trousers.

"Ah," said the bishop. "I must find him. He's a fine fellow, crossing the field behind that bull to warn Mr. Timkins. If the beast had happened to get into the camp, it would have been the very--very disastrous," he corrected himself, and with a nod he pa.s.sed on followed by the other campers.

"That's just like Bindle," she complained, "not saying a word, and making me ridiculous before the bishop. He's always treating me like that," and there was a whimper in her voice.

"It's--it's very unfortunate," said Mr. Hearty nervously.

"Thank you, Mr. Hearty," she said. "It's little enough sympathy I get."

II

It was not until nearly four o'clock that Bindle re-appeared with the intimation that he was ready to conduct Mr. Hearty to call upon Farmer Timkins with regard to the strawberries, the purchase of which had been the object of Mr. Hearty's visit.

"Won't you come, too, Elizabeth?" enquired Mr. Hearty, turning to Mrs.

Bindle.

"Thank you, Mr. Hearty, I should like to," she replied, tightening her bonnet strings as if in antic.i.p.ation of further violent movement.

Mr. Hearty gave the invitation more as a precaution against Bindle's high-spirits, than from a desire for his sister-in-law's company.

"'Ere, not that way," cried Bindle, as they were making for the gate leading to the road.

Mr. Hearty looked hesitatingly at Mrs. Bindle, who, however, settled the question by marching resolutely towards the gate.

"But it'll take a quarter of an hour that way," Bindle protested.

"If you think I'm going across any more fields with wild bulls, Bindle, you're mistaken," she announced with decision. "You've nearly killed Mr.

Hearty once to-day. Let that be enough."

With a feeling of thankfulness Mr. Hearty followed.

"But that little bit o' beef is tied up with a ring through 'is bloomin' nose. I been an' 'ad a look at 'im."

"Ring or no ring," she snapped, "I'll have you know that I'm not going across any more fields. It's a mercy we're either of us alive."

Bindle knew that he was not the other one referred to, and he reluctantly followed, grumbling about long distances and various veins.

Although upon the high-road, both Mrs. Bindle and Mr. Hearty were what Bindle regarded as "a bit jumpy."

From time to time they looked about them with obvious apprehension, as if antic.i.p.ating that from every point of the compa.s.s a bull was preparing to charge down upon them.

They paused at the main-entrance to the farm, allowing Bindle to lead the way.

Half-way towards the house, their nostrils were a.s.sailed by a devastating smell; Mr. Hearty held his breath, whilst Mrs. Bindle produced a handkerchief, wiped her lips and then held it to her nose.

She had always been given to understand that the only antidote for a bad smell was to spit; but she was too refined to act up to the dictum without the aid of her handkerchief.

"Pigs!" remarked Bindle, raising his head and sniffing with the air of a connoisseur.

"Extremely insanitary," murmured Mr. Hearty. "You did say the--er bull was tied up, Joseph?" he enquired.

"Well, 'e was when I see 'im," said Bindle, "but of course it wouldn't take long for 'im to undo 'imself."

Mr. Hearty glanced about him anxiously.