again as if thinking better
of her determination.

"When," continued Bindle imperturbably, "I 'ears of a place where the
beer's better an' cheaper than wot I gets 'ere, orf I goes like a bunny
after a lettuce. Now you an' 'Earty knows that in 'eaven 'appiness is
better an' cheaper than wot it is 'ere, yet yer does all yer can to
keep away from it; and they're all the same. That's wot does me."

"If you wasn't such an 'eathen you'd understand," stormed Mrs. Bindle,
"and my life would be 'appier. You won't go to chapel, an' you won't
'ave a bath, and----"

"I don't 'old with all this talk o' washin'. It ain't natural," broke
in Bindle cheerfully. "Look at the ladies. Wot do they do? When they
gets sort o' soiled, do they wash? Not a bit of it; they shoves on
another coat of powder to cover it up. I seen 'em doin' it."

"Scarlet women!" Mrs. Bindle's jaws snapped loudly.

"Yes, an' pink an' white 'uns too. I seen all sorts doin' it--which
reminds me of 'ow ole Snooker lorst 'is job. 'E wos sent round by 'is
guv'nor to a lady with an estimate for white-washin' and paper-'angin'.
When she saw the price she gives a sort of screech o' surprise.

"'This is very expensive,' she says. 'It didn't cost little more than
'alf this last time.'

"'It's the right price, mum,' says Snooker. 'I been through it
myself,' 'e says.

"'But I don't understand,' says she.

"'Well, mum,' says Snooker, 'there's the ceilin's to be washed off,' 'e
says, 'an' the old paper to be stripped off the walls,' 'e says, 'and
it all takes time.'

"'But is that necessary?' says the lady.

"'Well, mum,' says Snooker, quiet like, 'yer wouldn't put clean
stockin's on dirty legs, would yer?' says 'e.

"She was as angry as an 'en, and wrote in that Snooker 'ad been sayin'
disgustin' things, 'im wot blows a cornet in the Salvation Band o'
Sundays. Why, 'e ain't got enough wind left on week-days to be
disgustin' with. Any'ow 'e lorst 'is job, and the lady went to someone
else as didn't talk about legs."

"Y' ought to be ashamed of yourself, Joseph Bindle, telling me such
lewd tales."

"'Lewd!' Wot's that?" queried Bindle.

"An abomination in the sight of the Lord," replied Mrs. Bindle
sententiously. "Your talk ain't fit for a woman to listen to. Last
time we was at Mr. Hearty's you was speakin' of babies in front of
Millie. I went hot all over."

"Is babies lewd then?" enquired Bindle innocently.

"They're born in sin."

"