Mrs. Bindle paused in the operation of lifting an iron from the stove
and holding its face to her cheek to judge as to its degree of heat.
There was a note of contemptuous disgust in Bindle's voice that was
new to her.

"You always was jealous of him," she remarked, rubbing a piece of soap
on the face of the iron and polishing it vigorously upon a small
square of well-worn carpet kept for that purpose. "'E's got on and you
haven't, and there's an end of it;" and she brought down the iron
fiercely upon a pillow-case.

"Wot d'you think 'e's done now?" demanded Bindle, as he went to the
sink and filled a basin for his evening "rinse." Plunging his face
into the water, with much puffing and blowing he began to lather it
with soapy hands. He had apparently entirely forgotten his question.

"Well, what is it?" enquired Mrs. Bindle at length, too curious longer
to remain quiet.

Bindle turned from the sink, soap-suds forming a rim round his face
and filling his tightly-shut eyes. He groped with hands extended
towards the door behind which hung the roller-towel. Having polished
his face to his entire satisfaction, he walked towards the door
leading into the passage.

"Well, what's he done now?" demanded Mrs. Bindle again with asperity.

"'E says Millikins ain't goin' to marry Charlie Dixon." There was
anger in Bindle's voice.

"You're a nice one," commented Mrs. Bindle, "Always sneerin' at
marriage, an' now you're blaming Mr. Hearty because he won't----"

"Well, I'm blowed!" Bindle wheeled round, his good-humour re-asserting
itself, "I 'adn't thought o' that."

Having cleared away her ironing, Mrs. Bindle threw the white
tablecloth over the table with an angry flourish.

"Now ain't that funny!" continued Bindle, as if highly amused at Mrs.
Bindle's discovery. "Now ain't that funny!" he repeated.

"Seems to amuse you," she retorted acidly.

"It does, Mrs. B.; you've jest 'it it. One o' the funniest things I
ever come across. 'Ere's me a-tellin' everybody about this chamber of
'orrors wot we call marriage, an' blest if I ain't a-tryin' to shove
poor ole Charlie Dixon in an' shut the door on 'im." Bindle grinned
expansively.

"Supper'll be ready in five minutes," said Mrs. Bindle with indrawn
lips.

"Right-o!" cried Bindle as he made for the door. "I'm goin' to get
into my uniform before I 'ops around to see 'Earty. It's wonderful wot
a bit o' blue cloth and a peak cap'll do with a cove like 'Earty,
specially wh