the chapel door. It was Mrs. Bindle also who
reminded him of his mistake.

"It's a good omen, Uncle Joe," whispered Millie as she clung to
Bindle's arm.

"Wot's a good omen, Millikins?" enquired Bindle.

"That you should take me in instead of father," she whispered just as
Mr. Hearty bustled up and relieved Bindle.

There was a craning of necks and a hum of voices as Mr. Hearty,
intensely nervous, led his daughter up to the altar. Bindle followed,
carrying Mr. Hearty's hat and umbrella.

"My! don't 'is Nibs look smart," Bindle muttered to himself, as he
caught sight of Charlie Dixon standing at the further end of the
chapel.

The Rev. Mr. Sopley had come up from Eastbourne specially for the
occasion, Millie refusing to be married by Mr. MacFie. The ceremony
dragged its mournful course to the point where Millie and Charlie
Dixon had become man and wife. Mr. Sopley then plunged into a
lugubrious address full of dreary foreboding. He spoke of orphans,
widowhood, plague and famine, the uncertainty of human life and the
persistent quality of sin.

"'E ain't much at marrying," whispered Bindle to Mr. Hearty; "but 'e
ought to be worth a rare lot for funerals." Mr. Hearty turned and
gazed at Bindle uncomprehendingly.

It was Bindle who snatched the first kiss from the bride, and it was
he who, in the vestry, lightened the depressing atmosphere by his
cheerfulness. Mrs. Hearty in mauve and violet dabbed her eyes and beat
her breast with rigid impartiality. Mr. Hearty strove to brush his hat
into respectability.

Millie, clinging to her soldier-husband, stood with downcast eyes.
Bindle looked at her with interest, as she stood a meek and charming
figure in a coat and skirt of puritan grey, with a toque of the same
shade.

Mr. Sopley shook hands mechanically with everybody, casting his eyes
up to heaven as if mournfully presaging the worst.

"About the gloomiest ole cove I ever come across," whispered Bindle to
Mrs. Hearty, whereat she collapsed upon a seat and heaved with silent
laughter.

It was Bindle who broke up the proceedings.

"Now then, Charlie, 'op it, I'm 'ungry!" he said; and Charlie Dixon,
who had seemed paralysed, moved towards the vestry door.

It was Bindle who held on Mr. Hearty's hat when he entered his
carriage, and it was Bindle who heaved and pushed Mrs. Hearty until
she was able to take her place beside her lawful spouse.

It was Bindle who went back and captured the vague and indetermin