u a-usin' language like
that. I'm surprised at you."

Mr. Hearty looked about him like a caged animal, then suddenly he
turned to Bindle.

"Joseph," he cried, "I give these men in charge."

The men regarded Mr. Hearty with melancholy unconcern.

"Give 'em in charge!" repeated Bindle in surprise. "Wot for?"

"They're--they're like me," stammered Mr. Hearty in a rage that, with
a man of more robust nature, must have found vent in physical
violence.

"Well," remarked Bindle judicially, "I can't run a cove in for bein'
like you, 'Earty. Although," he added as an afterthought, "'e ought to
be in quod."

"It's a scandal," stuttered Mr. Hearty, "it's a--a----" He broke off,
words were mild things to express his state of indignation. Turning to
Bindle he cried, "Joseph, turn them out of my shop, in--in the name of
the Law," he added melodramatically.

"You 'ear, sonnies?" remarked Bindle, turning to the passive six. "'Op
it, although," he added meditatively as he eyed the six duplicates,
"wot I'm to do with you if you won't go, only 'Eaven knows, an' 'Eaven
don't confide in me."

The six figures themselves settled Bindle's problem by marching
solemnly out of the shop, each with a "Good afternoon, Joseph."

"Joseph, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Mr. Hearty, turning to
Bindle as the last black-coated figure left the shop. "What is the
meaning of this?"

"You may search me, 'Earty," replied Bindle. "I should 'ave called 'em
twins, if there 'adn't been so many. Sort o' litter, wasn't it? 'Ope
they're all respectable, or there'll be trouble for you, 'Earty. You'd
better wear a bit o' ribbon round your arm, so's we shall know you."

"Bindle, you're at the bottom of this." Mrs. Bindle had come out of
the back-parlour, just as the duplicates were leaving. She regarded
her husband with a suspicion that amounted to certainty.

"Me?" queried Bindle innocently; "me at the bottom of wot?"

"You know something about these men. It's a shame, and this Mr.
Hearty's first day. Look how it's upset him."

"Now 'ow d'you think I could make six alibis like them----" Bindle's
defence was interrupted by the sound of music.

"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed, "if it ain't them alibis."

The "doubles" had all produced tin whistles, which they were playing
as they marched slowly up and down in front of Mr. Hearty's premises.
Five seemed to have selected each his own hymn without consultation
with his fellows; the sixth, prob