ter regarding the red cap for a moment Bindle approached the landlord.

"No offence, your 'Oliness! Sorry to be a noosance, but can yer tell
me where the Temperance Fete is to be 'eld? Me and my mate is
delegates come all the way from London. No; your 'Oliness is wrong,
it's indigestion. That nose of 'is always takes a lot of explainin'."

Mr. Cutts flushed a deep purple at the reference to his cap. He wore
it to hide his baldness, and was extremely sensitive. Dick Little
laughed outright. It was he who answered Bindle.

"Half a mile up, and down the avenue of poplars."

"D' yer 'ear, mate?" Bindle turned to the driver. "D' yer know a
poplar when yer see it? Same for me." The last remark referred to the
driver's order for a pint of ale. After finishing his draught the
driver went out to see to the watering of his horses, whilst Mr. Cutts,
having cast at Bindle a look which he conceived to be of withering
scorn, retired to his parlour.

"Seem to 'ave 'urt Old Bung's feelin's," Bindle remarked genially to
Dick Little.

"You said you were going to the Temperance Fete?"

"Yes; we're carryin' along the buns, sangwidges, cakes, an' lemonade,
likewise tents and things."

"Like a drink?" enquired Little.

"Well!" grinned Bindle judicially, as he surveyed his empty glass, "it
would lay the dust a bit; provided," he added with mock gravity, "it
ain't a split soda. Never could digest split sodas. Where's 'is
'Oliness?" he enquired, looking round.

"Never mind him," responded Little, taking a flask from his pocket.
"Wash the glass out."

Bindle did so, and threw the water in a delicate line upon the floor.
Little emptied the greater part of the contents of the flask into the
glass held before him. With a happy look in his eyes Bindle took a
short drink, tasted the liquid critically, looked at Little, then with
a puzzled expression emptied the glass at the second attempt.

"Wot jer call it, sir? It's new to me," he remarked, as he replaced
his glass upon the counter.

"It hasn't got a name yet. I make it myself. It's not bad, eh?"

"It beats all I've ever tasted, sir. It ain't for suckin'-babes,
though. Pretty strong."

"Yes; you said you had lemonade for the Temperance Fete in there,
didn't you?" enquired Little.

"Well, not exactly, sir. It's got to be watered down, see? Ther'll be
about fifty gallons, 'sides bottled stuff."

"Are you open to earn a sovereign?" asked Little.

"Well, sir