upon his customers, managed to convey the idea that it was he who was
entirely responsible for the proper execution of their orders. As a
further precaution he constantly changed the rounds of his men, and
thus safeguarded himself from any employe playing Wellington to his
Napoleon.

Occasionally on Sunday evenings Bindle and Mrs. Bindle would be invited
to supper at the Heartys' in Fulham High Street, where they lived over
their principal shop. Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle would return after
chapel with Millie; Bindle invariably arranged to arrive early in order
to have a talk with Mrs. Hearty, who did not go to chapel because her
"breath was that bad."

"Funny thing, you and Lizzie bein' sisters; you seem to have got all
the meat an' left 'er only the bones!" Bindle would say.

Bindle hated anything that was even remotely connected with lemons, a
fruit that to him symbolised aggressive temperance. Mr. Hearty was
very partial to lemon flavouring, and in consequence lemon puddings,
lemon cakes, and lemon tarts were invariably served as sweets at his
table.

"Lemonade, lemon cakes, and lemon faces, all as sour as an unkissed
gal, that's wot a Sunday night at Hearty's place is," Bindle had
confided to a mate.

Once the chapel party returned, the evening became monotonous.

After supper Millie was sent to the harmonium and hymns were sung.
Mrs. Bindle had a thin, piercing voice, Millie a small tremulous
soprano, and Mr. Hearty was what Bindle called "all wool and wind."
Mrs. Hearty appeared to have no voice at all, although her lips moved
in sympathy with the singers.

At first Bindle had been a silent and agonised spectator, refusing all
invitations to join in the singing. He would sit, his attention
divided between Mr. Hearty's curious vocal contortions, suggestive of a
hen drinking water, and the rippling motion of Mrs. Hearty's chins.
When singing Mr. Hearty elevated his head, screwed up his eyes and
raised his eyebrows; the higher the note the higher went his eyebrows,
and the more closely he screwed up his eyes.

"'E makes faces enough for a 'ole band," Bindle had once whispered to
Mrs. Hearty, who had brought the evening to a dramatic termination by
incontinently collapsing.

"A laugh and an 'ymn got mixed," was Bindle's diagnosis.

It was soon after this episode that Bindle hit upon a happy idea for
bringing to a conclusion these, to him, tedious evenings. Mrs.
Bindle's favourite hymn was "Gospel Be