Adventures of Bindle

I

"There wasn't no 'ome life in England until the Kayser started a-droppin' bombs in people's back-yards," remarked Bindle oracularly. "Funny thing," he continued, "'ow everybody seemed to find out 'ow fond they was of settin' at 'ome because they was afraid o' goin' out."

Mr. Hearty looked at Mr. Gupperduck and Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs. Bindle. They required time in which to assimilate so profound an utterance.

Mr. Gupperduck had firmly established himself in the good graces of Mr. Hearty and the leaders of the Alton Road Chapel. He was a constant visitor at the Heartys', especially at meal times, and at the chapel he prayed with great fervour, beating all records as far as endurance was concerned.

"I don't agree with you," remarked Mr. Gupperduck at length, "I do not agree with you. The Scriptures say, 'Every man to his family.'"

Mr. Hearty looked gratefully at his guest. It was pleasant to find Bindle controverted.

"You know, Alf, you never been so much at 'ome," wheezed Mrs. Hearty, hitting her chest remorselessly. "You never go out on moonlight nights."

"You trust 'im," said Bindle. "'Earty an' the moon ain't never out together."

"We are told to take cover," said Mr. Hearty with dignity.

"An' wot about us pore fellers wot 'as to be out in it all?" demanded Bindle, looking down at his special constable's uniform.

"You should commend yourself to God," said Mr. Gupperduck piously. "He that putteth his trust in Him shall not be afraid."

"Ain't you afraid then when there's a raid on?" demanded Bindle.

"I have no fear of earthly things," replied Mr. Gupperduck, lifting his eyes to the ceiling.

"'E's all Gupperduck an' camelflage, ain't 'e, Millikins?" whispered Bindle to his niece. Then aloud he said: "Well, Mrs. B. ain't like you! She's afraid like all the rest of us. I don't believe much in coves wot say they ain't afraid. You ask the boys back from France. You don't 'ear them a-sayin' they ain't afraid. They knows too much for that."

"There is One above who watches over us all, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty, emboldened to unaccustomed temerity by the presence of Mr. Gupperduck.

"Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck, "our lives and our happiness are in God's hands, wherefore should we feel afraid?"

"Well, well!" remarked Bindle, with resignation, "you an' 'Earty beat me when it comes to pluck. When I'm out with all them guns a-goin', an' bombs a-droppin' about, I'd sooner be somewhere else, an' I ain't a-goin' to say different. P'raps it's because I'm an 'eathen."

"The hour of repentance should not be deferred," said Mr. Gupperduck. "It is not too late even now."

"It's no good," said Bindle decisively. "I should never be able to feel as brave as wot you are when there's a raid on."

"'Oh ye of little faith!'" murmured Mr. Gupperduck mournfully.

"Think of Daniel in the lions' den," said Mrs. Bindle. "And Jonah in the – er – interior of the whale," added Mr. Hearty with great delicacy.

"No," remarked Bindle, shaking his head with conviction, "I wasn't made for lions, or whales. I suppose I'm a bit of a coward."

"I don't feel brave when there's a raid, Uncle Joe," said Millie Hearty loyally. She had been a silent listener. "And mother isn't either, are you, mums?" she turned to Mrs. Hearty.

"It's my breath," responded Mrs. Hearty, patting her ample bosom. "It gets me here."

"That's because you don't go to chapel, Martha," said Bindle. "If you was to turn up there three times on Sundays you'd be as brave as wot Mr. Gupperduck is. Ain't that so?" he enquired, turning to Mr. Gupperduck.

"You're always sneering at the chapel," broke in Mrs. Bindle, without giving the lodger time to reply. "It doesn't do us any harm, whatever you may think."

"That's jest where you're wrong, Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle, settling himself down for a controversy. "I ain't got nothink to say against the chapel, if they'd only let you set quiet; but it's such an up an' down sort o' life. When you ain't kneelin' down a-askin' to be saved from wot you know you deserves, or kept from doin' wot you're nuts on doin', you're a-standin' up asingin' 'ymns about all sorts of uncomfortable things wot you says you 'opes to find in 'eaven."

"You have a jaundiced view of religion, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck ponderously. "A jaundiced view," he repeated, pleased with the phrase.

"'Ave I really?" enquired Bindle anxiously. "I 'ope it ain't catchin'. No," he continued meditatively, "I wasn't meant for chapels. I seem to be able to think best about 'eaven when I'm settin' smokin' after supper, with Mrs. B. a-bangin' at the stove to remind me that I ain't there yet."

"Wot does me," he continued, "is that I never yet see any of your chapel coves 'appier for all your singin' an' prayin'. Why is it? Look at you three now! If you was goin' to be plucked and trussed to-morrow, you couldn't look more fidgety."

Instinctively each of the three looked at the other two. Mr. Gupperduck shook his head hopelessly.

"You don't understand, Joseph," murmured Mr. Hearty with mournful resignation.

"I can understand Ruddy Bill gettin' drunk," Bindle continued, "because 'e do look 'appy when 'e's got a skin-full; but I can't understand you a-wantin' to pray, 'Earty, I can't really. I only once see a lot o' religious people 'appy, an' that was when they got drunk by mistake. Lord, didn't they teach me an' ole 'Uggles things! 'E blushes like a gal when I mentions it. 'Uggles 'as a nice mind, 'e 'as.

"Well, I must be goin', 'Earty, in case them 'Uns come over to-night. You ought to be a special, 'Earty, there's some rare fine gals on Putney 'Ill."

"Do you think there'll be an air-raid to-night?" asked Mr. Gupperduck with something more than casual interest in his voice.

"May be," said Bindle casually, "may be not. Funny things, air-raids, they've changed a rare lot o' things," he remarked meditatively. "Once we used to want the moon to come out, sort o' made us think of gals and settin' on stiles. Mrs. B. was a rare one for moons and stiles, wasn't you, Lizzie?"

"Don't be disgusting, Bindle." There was anger in Mrs. Bindle's voice.

"Now," continued Bindle imperturbably, "no cove don't want to go out an' set on a stile a-'oldin' of a gal's 'and: not 'im. When 'is job's done, 'e starts orf for 'ome like giddy-o, an' you don't see 'is nose again till the next mornin'."

Bindle paused to wink at Mr. Hearty.

"If there's any gal now," he continued, "wot wants 'er 'and 'eld on moonlight nights, she'll 'ave to 'old it 'erself, or wait till peace comes."

"If you would only believe, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck earnestly, making a final effort at Bindle's salvation. "'If thou canst believe, all things are possible.' Ah!"

Mr. Gupperduck started into an upright position with eyes dilated as a loud report was heard.

"What was that?" he cried.

"That," remarked Bindle drily, as he rose and picked up his peaked cap, "is the signal for you an' 'Earty to put your trust in Gawd. In other words," he added, "it's a gun, 'im wot Fulham calls 'The Barker.'"

Bindle looked from Mr. Hearty, leaden-hued with fright, to Mr. Gupperduck, whose teeth were chattering, on to Mrs. Bindle, who was white to the lips.

"Well, I must be orf," he said, adjusting his cap upon his head at a rakish angle. "If I don't come back, Mrs. B., you'll be a widow, an' widows are wonderful things. Cheer-o! all."

Bindle turned and left the room, his niece Millie following him out into the passage.

"Uncle Joe," she said, clutching hold of his coat sleeve, "you will be careful, won't you?" Then with a little catch in her voice, she added, "You know you are the only Uncle Joe I've got."

And Bindle went out into the night where the guns thundered and the shrapnel burst in sinister white stabs in the sky, whilst over all brooded the Great Queen of the heavens, bathing in her white peace the red war of pigmies.

II