me life.

"'Ow the injiarubber ostridge can a cove read when 'e ain't smokin'?"
he muttered discontentedly as he paused to listen. He had detected a
movement in the parlour.

Yes; the door had been opened. There was again the murmur of voices,
steps along the passage and, finally, the sound of the outer-door
closing. A moment later Mrs. Bindle entered.

Bindle looked up expectantly; but remembering that curiosity was the
last thing calculated to open Mrs. Bindle's set lips, he became
engrossed in his paper.

Mrs. Bindle seated herself opposite to him and, smoothing her skirt,
"folded 'er 'ands on 'er supper," as Bindle had once expressed it.

"He's coming Monday," she proclaimed with the air of one announcing an
event of grave national importance.

"Does 'e smoke?" enquired Bindle anxiously.

"He does not," replied Mrs. Bindle with undisguised satisfaction;
"but," she added, as if claiming for some hero the virtue of
self-abnegation, "he doesn't object to it--in moderation," she added
significantly.

"Well, that's somethink," admitted Bindle as he proceeded to light his
long-neglected pipe. "There was pore 'ole Alf Gorley wot beer made
sick; but 'e used to like to see other coves with a skinful."

"Don't be disgusting, Bindle," snapped Mrs. Bindle, piqued that his
apparent lack of interest in the lodger gave her no opportunity of
imparting the information she was bursting to divulge.

"Wot's disgustin'?" demanded Bindle.

"Him, watching men making beasts of themselves," retorted Mrs. Bindle.

"Them makin' beasts o' themselves!" Bindle exclaimed. "If you'd ever
seen Alf after 'alf a pint o' beer, you wouldn't 'ave said it was them
wot was makin' beasts o'----"

"Mr. Hearty will like him," interrupted Mrs. Bindle, unable longer to
keep off the subject of the lodger. Mr. Hearty had married Mrs.
Bindle's sister, and had become a prosperous greengrocer.

"'Earty like Alf! 'Old me, 'Orace!" cried Bindle.

"I meant Mr. Gupperduck," said Mrs. Bindle with dignity.

"Mr. Wot-a-duck!" Bindle cried, his interest too evident for
concealment.

"Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," repeated Mrs. Bindle with unction. "That is
his name."

Bindle whistled, a long low sound of joy and wonder. "Well, I'm
damned!" he exclaimed.

"Don't you swear before me, Joseph Bindle," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily;
"for I won't stand it."

"Gupperduck!" repeated Bindle with obvious enjoyment. "Sounds like a
patent mackintosh."

"Oh! you may