ndle into the room. He made no response to Bindle's pleasant,
"Good-evenin'."

"D'you know what you done?" enquired Sanders aggressively. "You lost
me my ruddy job. You did it a-purpose, and I've come to kill yer."

"Ain't yer 'ad enough of buryin'?" enquired Bindle significantly.
"Buryin' yer mother on Saturday, and now yer wants to kill yer ole pal
on Monday."

The menacing attitude of the foreman had no effect upon Bindle. He had
a great heart and would cheerfully have stood up to a man twice the
size of Sanders. The foreman made a swift movement in the direction of
Bindle.

"You stutterin', bespattered----Gawd!"

Mrs. Bindle, seeing that trouble was impending, had armed herself with
a very wet and very greasy dishcloth, which she had thrown with such
accurate aim as to catch the foreman full in the mouth.

"You dirty 'ound," she vociferated, "comin' into a Christian 'ome and
usin' that foul language. You dirty 'ound, I'll teach yer."

Mrs. Bindle's voice rose in a high crescendo. She looked about her for
something with which to follow up her attack and saw her favourite
weapon--the broom.

"You dirty-mouthed tyke," she cried, working herself into a fury. "You
blasphemin' son o' Belial, take that." Crack came the handle of the
broom on the foreman's head. Without waiting to observe the result,
and with a dexterous movement, she reversed her weapon and charged the
foreman, taking him full in the middle with the broom itself. In
retreating he stumbled over the coal-scuttle, and sat down with a
suddenness that made his teeth rattle.

Bindle watched the episode with great interest. Never had he so
approved of Mrs. Bindle as at that moment. Like a St. George
threatening the dragon she stood over the foreman.

"Now then, will yer say it again?" she enquired menacingly. There was
no response. "Say, 'God forgive me,'" she ordered. "Say it," she
insisted, seeing reluctance in the foreman's eye. "Say it, or I'll 'it
yer on yer dirty mouth with this 'ere broom. I'm a daughter of the
Lord, I am. Are yer goin' to say it or shall I change yer face for
yer?"

"God forgive me," mumbled the foreman, in a voice entirely devoid of
contrition.

Mrs. Bindle was satisfied. "Now up yer get, and orf yer go," she said.
"I won't 'it yer again if yer don't talk, but never you think to come
a-usin' such words in a Christian 'ome again."

The foreman sidled towards the door warily, When he was within reach of