e goods were in
transit. "You can slack it like a Cuthbert," he would say. "All you
'as to do is to sit on the tail of a van an' watch the world go
by--_some_ life that."

Bindle was awakened from his contemplation of the hedges and the white
road that ribboned out before his eyes by a man coming out of a gate.
At the sight of the pantechnicon he grinned and, with a jerk of his
thumb, indicated the van as if it were the greatest joke in the world.

Bindle grinned back, although not quite understanding the cause of the
man's amusement.

"'Ot little lot that, mate," remarked the man, stepping off the kerb
and walking beside the tailboard.

Bindle looked at him, puzzled at the remark.

"Wot exactly might you be meanin', ole son?" he enquired.

"Oh! come orf of it," said the man. "I won't tell your missis. Like a
razzle myself sometimes," and he laughed, obviously amused at this
joke.

Bindle slipped off the tail-board and joined the man, who had returned
to the pavement.

"You evidently seen a joke wot's caught me on the blind side," he
remarked casually.

"A joke," remarked the man; "a whole van-load of jokes, if you was to
ask me."

"Well, p'raps you're right," remarked Bindle philosophically, "but if
there's as many as all that, I should 'ave thought there'd 'ave been
enough for two; but as I say, p'raps you're right. These ain't the
times for givin' anythink away, although," he added meditatively, "I
'adn't 'eard of their 'avin' rationed jokes as well as meat and sugar.
We shall be 'avin' joke-queues soon," he added. "You seem to be a
sort of joke-'og, you do." Bindle turned and regarded his companion
with interest.

"You mean to say you don't know wot's inside that there van?" enquired
the man incredulously.

"Carved-oak dinin'-room furniture, I been told," replied Bindle
indifferently.

The man laughed loudly. Then turned to Bindle. "You mean to say you
don't know that van's full o' gals?" he demanded.

"Full o' wot?" exclaimed Bindle, coming to a dead stop. His
astonishment was too obvious to leave doubt in the man's mind as to
its genuineness.

"Gals an' women," he replied. "Saw 'em gettin' in down the road, out
of motors. Dressed in white they was, with coloured sashes over their
shoulders. Suffragettes, I should say. They didn't see me though," he
added.

Bindle gave vent to a low, prolonged whistle as he resumed his walk.

"'Old me, 'Orace!" he cried happily. "Wot 'ud Mrs. B. say if she