ty's third shop was assured, that is its
advertisement was assured.

"It'll cost an 'ell of a lot of money," said Bindle doubtfully as he
rose to go.

"Gug-gug-get out!" cried Guggers, whose income was an affair of five
figures. "For a rag like that I'd gug-gug-give my--my----"

"Not your trousers, sir," interrupted Bindle, gazing down at Guggers'
brawny knees; "remember you gone into short clothes. Wouldn't do for
me to go about like that," he added, "me with my various veins."

And Bindle left Dick Little's flat, rich in the knowledge he possessed
of coming events.

II

"Any'ow," remarked Bindle as he stood in front of the looking-glass
over the kitchen mantelpiece, adjusting his special constable's cap at
a suitable angle. "Any'ow, 'Earty's got a fine day."

Mrs. Bindle sniffed and banged a vegetable-dish on the dresser. She
appeared to possess an almost uncanny judgment as to how much banging
a utensil would stand without breaking.

"Now," continued Bindle philosophically, "it's a fine day, the sun's
shinin', people comin' out, wantin' to buy vegetables; yet I'll bet my
whistle to 'is whole stock that 'Earty ain't 'appy."

"We're not here to be happy," snapped Mrs. Bindle.

"It ain't always easy to see why some of us is 'ere at all," remarked
Bindle, as he gave his cap a further twist over to the right in an
endeavour to get a real Sir David Beatty touch to his appearance.

"We're here to do the Lord's work," said Mrs. Bindle sententiously

"But d'you mean to tell me that Gawd made 'Earty specially to sell
vegetables, 'im with a face like that?" questioned Bindle.

Mrs. Bindle's reply was in bangs. Sometimes Bindle's literalness was
disconcerting.

"Did Gawd make me to move furniture?" he persisted. "No, Mrs. B.," he
continued. "It's more than likely that Gawd jest puts us down 'ere an'
lets us sort ourselves out, 'Im up there a-watchin' to see 'ow we does
it."

"You're a child of Moloch, Joseph Bindle," said Mrs. Bindle.

"A child o' what-lock?" enquired Bindle "Who's 'e?"

"Oh! go along with you, don't bother me. I'm busy," cried Mrs. Bindle.
"I promised Mr. Hearty I'd be round at two o'clock."

"Now ain't that jest like a woman," complained Bindle to a fly-catcher
hanging from the gas-bracket. "Ain't that jest like a woman. If you're
too busy to tell me why I'm a child of ole What-a-Clock, why ain't you
too busy to tell me that I am a child of ole What-a-Clock?" and with
this profound enq