dle was home from work early, only to be informed
that Mr. Gupperduck would not arrive until eight o'clock.

"Now you just be careful what you say, Bindle," Mrs. Bindle had
admonished him as she busied herself with innumerable saucepans upon
the stove.

"Don't you be nervous, Mrs. B.," he reassured her, sniffing the
savoury air with keen anticipation, "there ain't nothink wrong with my
conversation once I gets goin'. Wot about drink?" he demanded as he
unhooked from the dresser the blue and white jug with the crimson
butterfly just beneath the spout.

"He's temperance," replied Mrs. Bindle with unction.

"Well, I 'ope 'e looks it," was Bindle's comment as he went out.

When time permitted, Bindle's method of fetching the supper-beer was
what he described as "'alf inside and 'alf in the jug," which meant
that he spent half an hour in pleasant converse with congenial spirits
at The Yellow Ostrich.

When he returned to Fenton Street, Mr. Gupperduck had arrived.
Depositing the jug upon the table with deliberation, Bindle turned to
welcome the guest.

"Pleased to see you, Mr. Gutter----" He paused, the name had
momentarily escaped him.

"Gupperduck, Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," volunteered the lodger.

"It ain't easy, is it?" said Bindle cheerfully. "Must 'ave caused you
a rare lot o' trouble, a name like that."

Mr. Gupperduck eyed him disapprovingly. He was a small, thin man, with
a humourless cast of face, large round spectacles, three distinct
wisps of overworked hair that failed to conceal his baldness, a short
brown beard that seemed to stand out straight from his chin, and a red
nose. His upper lip was bare, save for a three days' growth of
bristles.

"Looks like a owl wot's been on the drink," was Bindle's mental
comment. "You can read 'is 'ole 'istory in the end of 'is nose."

"Been a pleasant day," remarked Bindle conversationally, quite
forgetful that it had rained continuously since early morning.

"Pleasant!" interrogated Mr. Gupperduck.

Bindle suddenly remembered. "For the ducks, I mean," he said; then
with inspiration added, "not for Gupperducks."

"Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle. "You forget yourself."

"Oh, don't mind me, Mr. G.," said Bindle; "there ain't no real 'arm in
me."

Bindle proceeded to put "an 'ead on the beer." This he did by pouring
it into the glass from a distance of fully a yard and with astonishing
accuracy. Catching Mr. Gupperduck's eye, he winked.

"Can't get an 'ead