Adventures of Bindle

The man who was waiting for pancakes received with a smile half-a-dozen oysters; whilst another customer was bewildered at finding himself expected to commence his meal with pancakes and jam. When such errors were pointed out, Bindle would scratch his head in perplexity, then, as light dawned upon him, he would break out into a grin, make a dive for the pancakes and quickly exchange them for the oysters.

The names of the various dishes he found almost beyond him and, to overcome the difficulty, he asked the customers to point out on the menu what they required. Then again he found himself expected to carry a multiplicity of plates and dishes.

At first he endeavoured to emulate his confrères. On one occasion he set out from the dining-room with three dishes containing respectively "caille en casserole," a Welsh rarebit, and a steak and fried potatoes. The steak and fried potatoes were for a lady of ample proportions with an almost alarmingly low-cut blouse. In placing the steak and metal dish of potatoes before her, Bindle's eye for a second left the other two plates, which began to tilt.

The proprietor of the large-bosomed lady was, with the aid of a fish-knife, able to hold in place the Welsh rarebit; but he was too late in his endeavour to reach the under-plate on which reposed the "caille en casserole," which suddenly made a dive for the apex of the V of the lady's blouse.

As she felt the hot, moist bird touch her, she gave a shriek and started back. Bindle also started, and the lady's possessor lost his grip on the Welsh rarebit, which slid off the plate on to his lap.

Greatly concerned, Bindle placed the empty Welsh rarebit plate quickly on the table and, seizing a fork, stabbed the errant and romantic quail, replacing it upon its plate. He then went to the assistance of the gentleman who had received the Welsh rarebit face downwards on his lap.

With great care Bindle returned it to the plate, with the exception of such portions as clung affectionately to the customer's person.

To confound confusion the superintendent dashed up full of apologies for the customers and threatening looks for the cause of the mishap. Bindle turned to the lady, who was hysterically dabbing her chest with a napkin.

"I 'ope you ain't 'urt, mum," he said with genuine solicitude; "I didn't see where 'e was goin', slippery little devil!" and Bindle regarded the bird reproachfully. Then remembering that another was waiting for it, he crossed over to the table at which sat the customer who had ordered "caille en casserole" and placed the plate before him.

The man looked up in surprise.

"You'd better take that away," he said. "That bird's a bit too enterprising for me."

"A bit too wot, sir?" interrogated Bindle, lifting the plate to his nose. "I don't smell it, sir," he added seriously.

"I ordered 'caille en casserole,'" responded the man. "You bring me 'caille en cocotte.'"

"D'you mind saying that in English, sir?" asked Bindle, wholly at sea.

At that moment he was pushed aside by the owner of the lady of generous proportions. Thrusting his face forward until it almost touched that of the "caille" guest, he launched out into a volley of reproaches.

"Mon Dieu!" he shouted, "you have insulted that lady. You are a scoundrel, a wretch, a traducer of fair women;" and he went on in French to describe the customer's ancestry and possible progeny.

Throughout the dining-room the guests rose to see what was happening. Many came to the scene of the mishap. By almost superhuman efforts and an apology from the customer who had ordered "caille en casserole," peace was restored and, at a motion from the superintendent, Bindle carried the offending bird to the kitchen to exchange it for another, a simple process that was achieved by having it re-heated and returned on a clean plate.

"This 'ere all comes about through these coves wantin' foreign food," muttered Bindle to himself. "If they'd all 'ave a cut from the joint and two veges, it 'ud be jest as simple as drinkin' beer. An' ain't they touchy too," he continued. "Can't say a word to 'em, but what they flies up and wants to scratch each other's eyes out."

Tranquillity restored, Bindle continued his ministrations. For half an hour everything went quietly until two customers ordered ginger beer, one electing to drink it neat, and the other in conjunction with a double gin. Bindle managed to confuse the two glasses. The customer who had been forced to break his pledge was greatly distressed, and much official tact on the part of a superintendent was required to soothe his injured feelings.

"Seems to me," muttered Bindle, "that I gets all the crocks. If there's anythink funny about, it comes and sits down at one o' my tables. Right-o, sir, comin'!" he called to an impatient customer, who, accompanied by a girl clothed principally in white boots, rouge and peroxide, had seated himself at the table just vacated by a couple from the suburbs.

The man ordered a generous meal, including a bottle of champagne. Bindle attentively wrote down a phonetic version of the customer's requirements. The wine offered no difficulty, it was numbered.

Bindle had observed that wine was frequently carried to customers in a white metal receptacle, sometimes containing hot water, at others powdered ice. No one had told him of the different treatment accorded to red and white wines. Desirous of giving as little trouble as possible to his fellows, he determined on this occasion to act on his own initiative. Obtaining a wine-cooler, he had it filled with hot water and, placing the bottle of champagne in it, hurried back to the customer.

Placing the wine-cooler on a service-table, he left it for a few minutes, whilst he laid covers for the new arrivals.

The lady thirstily demanded the wine. Bindle lifted it from its receptacle, wound a napkin round it as he had seen others do and, nippers in hand, carried it to the table.

He cut the wires. Suddenly about half a dozen different things seemed to happen at the same moment. The cork leapt joyously from the neck of the bottle and, careering across the room, caught the edge of the monocle of a diner and planted it in the soup of another at the next table, just as he was bending down to take a spoonful. The liquid sprayed his face. He looked up surprised, not having seen the cause. He who had lost the monocle began searching about in a short-sighted manner for his lost property.

The cork, continuing on its way, took full in the right eye a customer of gigantic proportions. He dropped his knife and fork and roared with pain. Bindle watched the course of the cork in amazement, holding the bottle as a fireman does the nozzle of a hose. From the neck squirted a stream of white foam, catching the lady of the white boots, rouge and peroxide full in the face. She screamed.

"You damn fool!" yelled the man to Bindle.

In his amazement Bindle turned suddenly to see from what quarter this rebuke had come, and the wine caught the man just beneath the chin. Never had champagne behaved so in the whole history of Napolini's. A superintendent rushed up and, with marvellous presence of mind, seized a napkin and stopped the stream. Then he snatched the bottle from Bindle's hands, at the same time calling down curses upon his head for his stupidity.

The lady in white boots, rouge and peroxide was gasping and dabbing her face with a napkin, which was now a study in pink and white. Her escort was feeling the limpness of his collar and endeavouring to detach his shirt from his chest. The gentleman who had lost his monocle was explaining to the owner of the soup what had happened, and asking permission to fish for the missing crystal that was lying somewhere in the depths of the stranger's mulligatawny.

Bindle was gazing from one to the other in astonishment. "Fancy champagne be'avin' like that," he muttered. "Might 'ave been a stone-ginger in 'ot weather."

At that moment the superintendent discovered the wine-cooler full of hot water. One passionate question he levelled at Bindle, who nodded cheerfully in reply. Yes, it was he who had put the champagne bottle in hot water.

This sealed Bindle's fate as a waiter. Determined not to allow him out of his sight again, the superintendent haled him off to the manager's room, there to be formally discharged.

"Ah! this is the man," said the manager to an inspector of police with whom he was engaged in conversation as Bindle and the superintendent entered.

The inspector took a note-book from his pocket.

"What is your name and address?" he asked of Bindle.

Bindle gave the necessary details, adding, "I'm a special, Fulham District. Wot's up?"

"You will be wanted at Marlborough Street Police Court to-morrow at ten with regard to" – he referred to his note-book – "a charge against Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino," said the inspector.

"Wot's 'e goin' to be charged with, assault an' battery?" enquired Bindle curiously.

"Under the Defence of the Realm Act," replied the inspector. "Documents were found on him."

Bindle whistled. "Well, I'm blowed! A spy! I never did trust them sort o' whiskers," he muttered as he left the manager's room.

Five minutes later he left Napolini's for ever, whistling at the stretch of his powers "So the Lodger Pawned His Second Pair of Boots."

CHAPTER XIII

THE RETURN OF CHARLIE DIXON

"Oh, Uncle Joe! Charlie's back, and he's going to take us out to-night, and I'm so happy."

Bindle regarded the flushed and radiant face of Millie Hearty, who had just rushed up to him and now stood holding on to his arm with both hands.

"I thought I should catch you as you were going home," she cried. "Uncle Joe, I – I think I want to cry."

"Well," remarked Bindle, "if you'll give your pore ole uncle a chance to get a word in edgeways, 'e'd like to ask why you wants to cry."

"Because I'm so happy," cried Millie, dancing along beside him, her hands still clasping his arm.

"I see," replied Bindle drily; "still, it's a funny sort o' reason for wantin' to cry, Millikins;" and he squeezed against his side the arm she had now slipped through his.

"You will come, Uncle Joe, won't you?" There was eager entreaty in her voice. "We shall be at Putney Bridge at seven."