Adventures of Bindle by Herbert George Jenkins (books to read in a lifetime .TXT) 📕

on her hands failed to form a liaison with the blouse. Round her neck was flung a locket suspended by a massive "gold" chain. Both she and Mr. Pain were violent in their greetings, after which they proceeded over to two chairs by the wall where they seated themselves and proceeded to converse in undertones, Mr. Pain drawing on a pair of black kid gloves.

"Mr. and Mrs. Withers," bawled Alice.

Mrs. Bindle nodded approval, and Mr. and Mrs. Withers shook hands with Mr. Hearty and Mr. MacFie, much as Mr. and Mrs. Pain had done.

Mr. Withers carried a small sandy head on one side, and a frock-coat tightly buttoned over his narrow chest. His smallness was emphasised by the vastness of Mrs. Withers, whose white silk bodice, cut low at the neck, and black skirt, fitted her amorously, as if the wearer's intention were to diminish her size.

For some time Alice carried out her duties with marked success, and Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty were kept as busy as an American President at election time. An unfortunate episode occurred in connection with two of the most important members of Mr. MacFie's flock, Mr. Tuddenham and Mr. Muskett.

Mr. Tuddenham was a stout, self-important little man with a red face and a "don't—you—dare—to—argue—with—me—sir" air. Mr. Muskett, on the other hand, was tall and lean with lantern jaws, a sallow complexion and a white beard. Mr. Tuddenham's clothes fitted him like a glove; Mr. Muskett's hung in despairing folds about his person. Mr. Tuddenham wore a high collar, which cut viciously into his red neck; Mr. Muskett's neckwear was nonconformist in cut. Mr. Tuddenham glared at the world through fierce, bloodshot eyes; Mr. Muskett gazed weakly over the top of a pair of pince-nez that hung at one side. Mr. Muskett's voice was an overpowering boom, contrasting oddly with the thin, high-pitched notes of Mr. Tuddenham. Mr. Tuddenham was as upright as a bantam; Mr. Muskett drooped like a wilted lily. No one had ever seen Mr. Muskett without Mr. Tuddenham, or Mr. Tuddenham without Mr. Muskett.

Alice appeared to have considerable difficulty over their names, during which Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty stood pretending not to be aware of the presence of the new arrivals. Eventually Alice nodded reassuringly and, taking a step into the room, announced:

"Mr. Muddenham and Mr. Tuskett."[Pg 85]

"Tuddenham, girl, Tuddenham!" shrieked Mr. Tuddenham.

"Muskett, I said, Muskett!" boomed Mr. Muskett.

For a moment Alice regarded them with some apprehension, then her face broke into a smile and, with a sideways nod of her head in the direction of the new guests and a jerk of her thumb, she turned laughing to the door, giving a backward kick of mirth as she went out.

The guests now began to arrive thick and fast.

Miss Torkington brought her tow-coloured hair and pince-nez, and a manner that seemed to shout virtue and chastity. She was all action and vivacity, and nothing could dam the flow of her words, just as none could have convinced her that in her pale-blue princess-robe with its high collar she was not the dernière crie.

Mrs. Bindle had taken up her position near the door, so that she might correct Alice, should occasion arise.

"The butcher and 'is missus," announced Alice.

"Alice, Alice!" protested Mrs. Bindle in a loud whisper. "You mustn't announce people like that. You should say Mr. and Mrs. Gash."

"I asked 'im, mum," protested Alice, "and that's wot 'e said."

Mrs. Bindle looked anxiously from Mr. Gash, in a check suit and red tie, to his wife in a royal blue short skirt, a pink blouse and white boots with tassels. They smiled good-humouredly. Mrs. Bindle sighed her relief.

Mrs. Bindle decided that it would be wise to leave Alice to her own devices. She knew something of the temper of the outraged domestic. In consequence Alice announced without rebuke Mr. Hippitt as "Mr. Pip-Pip," and Mrs. Muspratt as "Miss Musk-Rat."

Presently her voice was heard without raised in angry reproaches.

"What's your name?" she was heard to demand. "I got to call it out."

"No, you don't, Ruthie dear," was the reply.

Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle exchanged glances. They recognised that voice.

"You leggo, I ain't one of them sort," said the voice of Bindle.

"You ain't goin' in till you give me your name, so there!" was Alice's retort.

The guests focused their attention upon the door. Suddenly it opened a foot and then crashed to again.[Pg 86]

"Ah! thought you'd got through, didn't you?" they heard Alice cry triumphantly.

Suddenly the door opened again and Bindle entered with Alice striving to restrain him.

"Now, Ruthie, I'm married; if I wasn't, well, anythink might 'appen. Look! 'ere's my coat and 'at, so don't say I 'aven't trusted you. 'Ere, leggo!"

Bindle made an impressive figure in his evening clothes, patent boots, a large "diamond" stud in the centre of his shirt, a geranium in his button-hole, and a red silk handkerchief tucked in the opening of his waistcoat.

"'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 hoarse 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-shirt 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.[Pg 87]

"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 Knob-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 Knob-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 Knob-Kerrick," bawled Alice, throwing open the door with a flourish.

Lady Knob-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 Knob-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 Knob-Kerrick cast about her proved to them conclusively that Bindle had done the wrong thing.

"It is most kind of your ladyship to come." Mr. Hearty fussed about Lady Knob-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:[Pg 88]