he opened the door to him
herself, looking very pretty and smart in her Sunday hat.

"I was so afraid you'd forget, uncle," she whispered, snuggling against
him as they walked along. "You look so nice," she added.

Bindle looked down at himself and grinned.

"I pays for dressin'," he observed. "The cigar was me own idea. It
gives a sort o' finish, eh, Millikins?"

They walked past the Fulham Grand Theatre, and at the Cinema Palace on
the Fulham side of the bridge Bindle paused.

"Not this one, the one over the bridge," Millie cried anxiously.

"Further to walk for yer ole uncle."

"But--but--" faltered Millie, "Charlie Chaplin's at the other and I do
so want to see him."

"Charlie Chaplin's 'ere too, Millikins. Look, it says so."

"Oh, uncle, please, _please_, the other one." There were tears in
Millie's eyes and her voice shook.

Bindle was puzzled, but to please her he would have walked over many
bridges.

"Uncle, you _are_ good," was all she said as she smiled at him happily.

They passed over the bridge in silence, watching the stream of trams,
buses, and people. When with Millie, Bindle never ventured upon those
little personalities in which he indulged when alone.

"Do yer like chapel, Millikins?" Bindle enquired suddenly.

"I hate it, Uncle Joe!" There was such feeling and decision in
Millie's voice that Bindle turned and regarded her curiously.

"Why?"

"I want to be happy, oh! I do so want to be happy, Uncle Joe." There
was almost a sob in Millie's voice and her eyes were moist with unshed
tears.

Bindle said nothing, but he pondered deeply as they walked slowly
along. When they saw the brilliant lights of the Putney Pavilion
Millie visibly brightened.

As they entered Millie looked eagerly round, and a sigh of contentment
escaped her as her eyes rested on a tall, pale-faced youth who stood
smoking a cigarette. He raised his hat about an inch from his head,
squaring his elbow in the process as if saluting. The action was
awkward and sheepish.

Bindle looked from the young man to Millie, then remembering Millie's
distress at his suggestion of going to the other cinema, light dawned
upon him. With elaborate courtesy, and to the youth's obvious
astonishment, he returned the salute, then walking across seized his
hand and shook it effusively.

"Millikins, this is a young man I used to know, but 'ave forgotten. 'E
remembers me, 'owever, and that's all that matters. This is me