CHAPTER VIII
THE CHAPEL CONVERSAZIONE
Lady Knob-Kerrick's nomination of the Rev. Andrew MacFie to the vacantpastorate at the Alton Road Chapel was her way of showing that anamnesty had been arranged between them, and Mr. MacFie had accepted itwith the nearest approach to pleasure that he ever permitted himself.Miss MacFie, his sister and housekeeper, had sniffed; but it wasalways difficult to discriminate between Miss MacFie's physical andmental sniffs. During the winter she seemed to suffer from a perpetualcold in the head. It sometimes attacked her in the spring and autumn,so that only during the months of June, July and August could one saywith any degree of certainty that Miss MacFie's sniffs meantindignation and not an inflamed membrane.
In commemoration of his long ministry at the Alton Road Chapel, theRev. Mr. Sopley was to receive an illuminated address, a purse offifty pounds and a silver-mounted hot-water bottle. For reasons ofeconomy the presentation was to be made on the same occasion as theconversazione inaugurating the pastorate of Mr. MacFie. Thisconversazione had been delayed for some months, as Miss MacFie hadbeen forced to remain behind at Barton Bridge in order to recover froma particularly severe chill, and also to arrange for the letting ofthe house.
In the meantime Mr. MacFie had taken lodgings in Fulham, thus freeingMr. Sopley, whose health for some time past had not been good. It hadbeen arranged, however, that the retiring shepherd should be presentat the celebration in order to receive the address, the purse and thesilver-mounted hot-water bottle.
Lady Knob-Kerrick had consented herself to make the presentation, anda glee-party had been arranged for to entertain the guests. It hadfirst been suggested that the services should be engaged of a man whoproduced rabbits out of top-hats, and omelettes from ladies' shoes;but it had been decided that such things were too secular for theoccasion.
Lady Knob-Kerrick had insisted that the words of the glees shouldfirst be submitted to her, and a lengthy correspondence had takenplace between her and the leader of the glee-party. The first list hadbeen vetoed in its entirety. One item, entitled "Oh! Hush Thee MyBaby," was considered by Lady Knob-Kerrick as not quite nice; it mightmake the young girls feel self-conscious. Another one of a slightlyhumorous nature referred to a man's "bleeding nose." Lady Knob-Kerrickhad written to the leader of the glee-party in uncompromising termsupon the indelicacy of submitting to her so coarse a composition.After a brisk interchange of letters, a programme was eventuallydecided upon.
The conversazione was held in the Chapel school-room. A considerableportion of Mr. Hearty's drawing-room furniture had been requisitionedin order to give to the place an appearance of "homeiness" andcomfort. Mr. Hearty's clock and lustres were upon the mantelpiece, andMr. Hearty's pink candles were in the lustres. Chains of colouredpaper, to Mr. Hearty the extreme evidences of festivity, stretchedfrom the corners of the room to the central gas bracket on which hadbeen placed opaque pink globes.
Nothing, however, could mitigate the hardness of the scriptural textsin oak Oxford frames that garnished the walls. "Prepare to Meet ThyGod," even when in gold letters entwined with apple-blossom, seemedscarcely the greeting for those who had been invited to revel. "TheWages of Sin is Death," with violets coquetting in and out theletters, is sound theology; but not a convincing invitation tomerry-making. "And So Shall Ye All Likewise Perish," with primrosesthat seemed to have paled through long association with so terrible amenace, threw out its uncompromising warning from immediately abovethe refreshment-table. On the table itself was everything that alittle money could buy, from fish-paste sandwiches to home-madethree-cornered tarts, with raspberry-jam baked hard peeping out at thejoins, as if to advertise that there was no deception.
Millie Hearty had striven to mitigate the uncompromising gloom of thetexts by placing evergreens above the frames; but with no verypronounced success.
Mr. Hearty had supplied the fruit and Mr. Black the groceries at"cost-price." That is to say, Mr. Hearty had taken off a halfpenny apound from his tenpenny apples, and Mr. Black three farthings a bottlefrom his one and ninepenny lemon-squash.
On the night of the conversazione, Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle arrivedearly in order to put finishing touches to everything. Mrs. Bindle waswearing a new dress of puce-coloured merino, and Mr. Hearty had donneda white tie in honour of the occasion. His trousers stillconcertinaed mournfully down his legs until they despairedly met hislarge and shapeless boots.
Millie Hearty was also an early arrival. In her white frock she lookedstrangely out of place associated with her father and aunt.
Mr. Hearty fidgeted about from place to place in a state of acutenervousness. His eyes, roving round in search of some defect in thearrangements, fixed themselves upon the gas. Fetching a chair hemounted it and lowered in turn each burner, then, replacing the chairagainst the wall, he stepped some distance back to see the effect. Theresult was that he once more mounted the chair and readjusted theflames to the same height as before.
Mrs. Bindle also moved about, but always with a set purpose, puttingfinishing touches to everything. Alice, the Heartys' maid, seemed tobe engaged in a game of in and out, banging the door at each entry andexit. In spite of the frequency with which this was done, it causedMr. Hearty each time to look round expectantly.
"Is Joseph coming?" he enquired of Mrs. Bindle.
"Yes," she replied, "but I've warned him." There was a grimness in hervoice that carried conviction to Mr. Hearty.
"Thank you, Elizabeth, thank you. I was very upset the other night,very." He suddenly rushed away to the harmonium, where one of thecandles was burning smokily.
"Mr. Gupperduck can't come," said Mrs. Bindle as she rearranged thefish-paste sandwiches. "He's got a meeting at Hoxton."
Mr. Hearty made some murmur of response as he dashed across the roomto adjust three chairs that lacked symmetry.
"I wish they'd come, Alf," wheezed Mrs. Hearty, hitting the front of abright green bodice. Sartorially Mrs. Hearty always ran to brilliancy.
"I hope Mr. MacFie will not be late," said Mr. Hearty in a tone ofgloomy foreboding.
Mr. MacFie's arrival at that moment, accompanied by Miss MacFie, putan end to this anxiety. Miss MacFie was a tall, flat-chested, angularwoman of about forty, with high cheek-bones and almost white eyebrowsand eyelashes. She greeted Mr. Hearty and the others without emotion.Mr. MacFie had eyes for no one but Millie.
The next arrival was the Rev. Mr. Sopley, "all woe and whiskers," asBindle had once described him. Mournfully he shook hands with all and,seating himself on the first available chair, cast his eyes up towardsthe ceiling, his habitual attitude.
Alice sidled up to Mrs. Bindle and, in a whisper audible to all,enquired:
"Am I to call out the names, mum?"
"Certainly, Alice," replied Mrs. Bindle. "As each guest arrives youwill announce the names clearly." Then turning to Mr. Hearty she said,"I think that you and Mr. MacFie ought to receive the guests at thedoor."
"Certainly, Elizabeth, certainly," said Mr. Hearty. There wasunaccustomed decision in his voice. He was glad of something definiteto do. Striding over to Mr. MacFie, he whispered to him andpractically dragged him away from Millie. The two of them took uptheir positions near the door, where they stood staring at each otheras if wondering what was to happen next.
Mrs. Hearty from time to time beat her chest.
"It's me breath," she confided to Mr. Sopley, then subsided intowheezing.
"Ha!" Mr. Sopley changed the angle of his gaze. Whenever spoken to heinvariably opened his mouth with a jerk, as if he had been suddenlybrought back from another world by someone hitting him in the wind. Asoften as not he re-closed his mouth without further sound. It wasobvious to the most casual observer that he was here on earth becauseProvidence had decreed it, and not from any wish of his own.
Suddenly Alice threw open the outer door.
"Mr. Pain and 'is wife, mum," she announced.
Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty became instantly galvanised into activity.
"Not h
is wife," corrected Mrs. Bindle in a whisper.
"But she is 'is wife," protested Alice indignantly. "Ain't you, mum?"she enquired of Mrs. Pain.
Mrs. Pain simpered her acquiescence as she turned to Mr. MacFie andMr. Hearty, who had raced towards her.
"You should say 'Mr. and Mrs. Pain,' Alice," said Mrs. Bindle withquiet forbearance.
"Sorry," remarked Alice, turning to go. "I ain't used to this 'ere.Why can't they come in without all this yelling out of names?" shemuttered. "They ain't trains."
Mr. Pain, a small man with a bald head and a tuft of black hair in thecentre of a protruding forehead, shook hands joyfully with Mr. MacFieand Mr. Hearty. He was wearing a black frock-coat and light browntweed trousers, a white waistcoat and a royal blue tie. Mrs. Pain wasa tall thin woman, garbed in a narrow brown skirt with acream-coloured bodice, over-elaborated with lace. The sleeves of herblouse reached only just below the elbows, and the cream gloves on herhands failed to form a liaison with the blouse. Round her neck wasflung a locket suspended by a massive "gold" chain. Both she and Mr.Pain were violent in their greetings, after which they proceeded overto two chairs by the wall where they seated themselves and proceededto converse in undertones, Mr. Pain drawing on a pair of black kidgloves.
"Mr. and Mrs. Withers," bawled Alice.
Mrs. Bindle nodded approval, and Mr. and Mrs. Withers shook hands withMr. Hearty and Mr. MacFie, much as Mr. and Mrs. Pain had done.
Mr. Withers carried a small sandy head on one side, and a frock-coattightly buttoned over his narrow chest. His smallness was emphasisedby the vastness of Mrs. Withers, whose white silk bodice, cut low atthe neck, and black skirt, fitted her amorously, as if the wearer'sintention were to diminish her size.
For some time Alice carried out her duties with marked success, andMr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty were kept as busy as an American Presidentat election time. An unfortunate episode occurred in connection withtwo of the most important members of Mr. MacFie's flock, Mr. Tuddenhamand Mr. Muskett.
Mr. Tuddenham was a stout, self-important little man with a red faceand a "don't--you--dare--to--argue--with--me--sir" air. Mr. Muskett,on the other hand, was tall and lean with lantern jaws, a sallowcomplexion and a white beard. Mr. Tuddenham's clothes fitted him likea glove; Mr. Muskett's hung in despairing folds about his person. Mr.Tuddenham wore a high collar, which cut viciously into his red neck;Mr. Muskett's neckwear was nonconformist in cut. Mr. Tuddenham glaredat the world through fierce, bloodshot eyes; Mr. Muskett gazed weaklyover the top of a pair of pince-nez that hung at one side. Mr.Muskett's voice was an overpowering boom, contrasting oddly with thethin, high-pitched notes of Mr. Tuddenham. Mr. Tuddenham was asupright as a bantam; Mr. Muskett drooped like a wilted lily. No onehad ever seen Mr. Muskett without Mr. Tuddenham, or Mr. Tuddenhamwithout Mr. Muskett.
Alice appeared to have considerable difficulty over their names,during which Mr. MacFie and Mr. Hearty stood pretending not to beaware of the presence of the new arrivals. Eventually Alice noddedreassuringly and, taking a step into the room, announced:
"Mr. Muddenham and Mr. Tuskett."
"Tuddenham, girl, Tuddenham!" shrieked Mr. Tuddenham.
"Muskett, I said, Muskett!" boomed Mr. Muskett.
For a moment Alice regarded them with some apprehension, then her facebroke into a smile and, with a sideways nod of her head in thedirection of the new guests and a jerk of her thumb, she turnedlaughing to the door, giving a backward kick of mirth as she went out.
The guests now began to arrive thick and fast.
Miss Torkington brought her tow-coloured hair and pince-nez, and amanner that seemed to shout virtue and chastity. She was all actionand vivacity, and nothing could dam the flow of her words, just asnone could have convinced her that in her pale-blue princess-robe withits high collar she was not the derniere crie.
Mrs. Bindle had taken up her position near the door, so that she mightcorrect Alice, should occasion arise.
"The butcher and 'is missus," announced Alice.
"Alice, Alice!" protested Mrs. Bindle in a loud whisper. "You mustn'tannounce people like that. You should say Mr. and Mrs. Gash."
"I asked 'im, mum," protested Alice, "and that's wot 'e said."
Mrs. Bindle looked anxiously from Mr. Gash, in a check suit and redtie, to his wife in a royal blue short skirt, a pink blouse and whiteboots with tassels. They smiled good-humouredly. Mrs. Bindle sighedher relief.
Mrs. Bindle decided that it would be wise to leave Alice to her owndevices. She knew something of the temper of the outraged domestic. Inconsequence Alice announced without rebuke Mr. Hippitt as "Mr.Pip-Pip," and Mrs. Muspratt as "Miss Musk-Rat."
Presently her voice was heard without raised in angry reproaches.
"What's your name?" she was heard to demand. "I got to call it out."
"No, you don't, Ruthie dear," was the reply.
Mr. Hearty and Mrs. Bindle exchanged glances. They recognised thatvoice.
"You leggo, I ain't one of them sort," said the voice of Bindle.
"You ain't goin' in till you give me your name, so there!" was Alice'sretort.
The guests focused their attention upon the door. Suddenly it opened afoot and then crashed to again.
"Ah! thought you'd got through, didn't you?" they heard Alice crytriumphantly.
Suddenly the door opened again and Bindle entered with Alice strivingto restrain him.
"Now, Ruthie, I'm married; if I wasn't, well, anythink might 'appen.Look! 'ere's my coat and 'at, so don't say I 'aven't trusted you.'Ere, leggo!"
Bindle made an impressive figure in his evening clothes, patent boots,a large "diamond" stud in the centre of his shirt, a geranium in hisbutton-hole, and a red silk handkerchief tucked in the opening of hiswaistcoat.
"'Ullo, 'Earty!" he cried genially. "'Ere, call 'er orf," indicatingAlice with a jerk of his thumb. "Seems to 'ave taken a fancy tome--an' she ain't the first neither," he added.
Mrs. Bindle motioned to Alice to free Bindle, which she didreluctantly.
Bindle looked round the room with interest.
"This the little lot, 'Earty?" he enquired in a hoarse whisper audibleto all. "Don't look a very cheer-o crowd, do they? The idea of goin'to 'eaven seems to make 'em low-spirited."
Bindle regarded Mr. MacFie intently, then turning to Mr. Muskett, whohappened to be standing near him, he remarked:
"Can't you see 'im in a night-shirt with wings and an 'arp,a-flutterin' about like a little canary. Wonderful place, 'eaven,sir," said Bindle, looking up at Mr. Muskett.
"Sir!" boomed Mr. Muskett.
Bindle started back, then recovering himself and, leaning forwardslightly, he said:
"Do you mind doin' that again, sir, jest to see if I can stand itwithout jumping."
Mr. Muskett glared at him, swung round on his heel and joined Mr.Tuddenham at the other end of the room.
"Seem to 'ave trod on 'is toes," muttered Bindle as he watched Mr.Muskett obviously explaining to Mr. Tuddenham the insult to which hehad just been subjected.
Bindle looked about him with interest, the only guest who seemedthoroughly comfortable and at home. Suddenly his eye caught sight ofthe text above the refreshment-table, and he grinned broadly. Lookingabout him for someone to share the joke, he took a step towards hisnearest neighbour, Miss Torkington.
"Ain't 'e a knock-out!" he remarked, nudging her with his elbow.
"I beg your pardon!" said Miss Torkington, lifting her chin andfolding her hands before her.
"'Im, 'Earty," said Bindle, "ain't 'e a knock-out! Look at that! 'Soshall Ye All Likewise Perish,'" he read. "Fancy sticking that up overthe grub."
Miss Torkington, her hands still folded before her, with head in theair, wheeled round and walked away in what she conceived to be adignified manner.
Bindle slowly turned and watched her.
"Quaint old bird," he muttered. "I wonder wot I said to 'urt 'erfeelin's."
The glee-party of four had formed up near the harmonium. Mr. Heartywas in ea
rnest conversation with the leader. He wished to see LadyKnob-Kerrick's arrival heralded with appropriate music. The leader ofthe singers was a man whose serious visage convinced Mr. Hearty thatto him might safely be left the selection of "the extra" that was towelcome the patroness of the occasion. Mr. Hearty was unaware that inthe leader's heart was a smouldering anger against Lady Knob-Kerrickon account of her rudeness in the recent correspondence that had takenplace. Furthermore, he had already received his fee.
"Hi, 'Earty!" Bindle called to Mr. Hearty as he left the leader of theglee-party. "When's the Ole Bird comin'?"
Mr. Hearty turned. "The old bird?" he interrogated with liftedeyebrows.
"Lady Knob-Kerrick," bawled Alice, throwing open the door with aflourish.
Lady Knob-Kerrick sailed into the room, her head held high insupercilious superiority. Following her came her companion, MissStrint, who had carried self-suppression and toadyism to the point ofinspiration. Immediately behind came John, Lady Knob-Kerrick'sfootman, bearing before him the illuminated address, the pursecontaining fifty Treasury pound notes, and the silver-mountedhot-water bottle.
Bindle started clapping vigorously. Two or three other guests followedsuit; but the look Lady Knob-Kerrick cast about her proved to themconclusively that Bindle had done the wrong thing.
"It is most kind of your ladyship to come." Mr. Hearty fussed aboutLady Knob-Kerrick, walking deprecatingly upon his toes. She appearedentirely oblivious of his presence. He turned towards the harmoniumand made frantic signals to the leader of the glee-party. Suddenly thequartette broke into song, every word ringing out clearly anddistinctly:
There's the blue eye and the brown eye, the grave eye and the sad, There's the pink eye and the green eye and the eye that's rolling mad; But of all the eyes that eye me, be they merciful or bad, The eye that I would choose is what they call "The Glad." THE GLAD EYE.
The last line was rolled out sonorously by the bass.
The company looked at one another in amazement. Lady Knob-Kerrick,scarlet with rage, glared through her lorgnettes at the singers andthen at Mr. Hearty, who from where he stood petrified gazedwonderingtly at the glee-party. Mrs. Bindle, with great presence ofmind, moved swiftly across the room, and caught the falsetto by thelapel of the coat just as he had opened his mouth to begin his soloverse, dealing with the knowledge acquired by a flapper from thecountry in the course of a fortnight's holiday in London. Mrs. Bindlemade it clear to the leader that as far as the Alton Road Chapel wasconcerned he was indulging in an optical delusion.
"We are all deeply honoured by your Leddyship's presence thisevening," said Mr. MacFie, throwing himself into the breach. "Itis----"
"Get me a chair," demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick, still glaring in thedirection of the glee-singers.
Bindle rushed at her with a frail-looking hemp-seated chair, which heproceeded to flick with his red silk pocket-handkerchief.
"One be enough, mum?" he enquired solicitously.
Lady Knob-Kerrick regarded him through her lorgnettes.
Mr. Sopley had been detached from his contemplation of the ceiling,and was now led up to Lady Knob-Kerrick.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "we are indeed greatly honoured."
"'Ere, 'ere!" broke in Bindle, attracting to himself the attention ofthe whole assembly.
"Will your Ladyship make the presentation now?" enquired Mr. Hearty,"or----"
"Now!" was Lady Knob-Kerrick's uncompromising reply, as she seatedherself. "Fetch a table, please," she added, indicating, with aninclination of her head, her footman, who stood with what Bindlecalled "the prizes."
Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gash trotted off to fetch a small table from thecorner of the room. This was placed in front of Lady Knob-Kerrick, andon it John deposited the illuminated address, the bag containing thenotes, and the silver-mounted hot-water bottle.
A hush of expectancy fell upon the assembly. Lady Knob-Kerrick roseand was greeted by respectful applause. Her manner was that of apeacock deigning to acknowledge the existence of a group of sparrows.From a dorothy-bag she drew a typewritten paper, which she proceededto read.
"I have been asked to present to the Rev. James Sopley, as a mark ofthe esteem in which he is held by his flock, an illuminated address, apurse of fifty pounds, and a silver-mounted hot-water bottle"--shepaused for a moment--"a trifle that shall remind him of the lovinghearts he has left behind. (Murmurs of respectful appreciation.)
"Mr. Sopley has fought the good fight in Fulham for upwards oftwenty-five years, and he is now about to retire to enjoy the restthat he has so well and thoroughly earned. ("'Ere, 'ere!" fromBindle.) I trust and hope that the Lord will spare him for many yearsto come. ("I'm sure I would if I was Gawd," whispered Bindle to Mr.Tuddenham, who only glared at him.)
"We have now among us," continued Lady Knob-Kerrick, "a new pastor, aman of sterling worth and sound religious principles. ("That's you!"said Bindle in a hoarse whisper, nudging Mr. MacFie who stood next tohim.) I have," proceeded Lady Knob-Kerrick, "sat under him ("Oh,naughty! naughty!" whispered Bindle. Lady Knob-Kerrick glared athim),--sat--sat under him for a number of years at Barton Bridge,where he will always be remembered as a man devoted to" ("Temperancefetes!" interpolated Bindle.)
The result of the interruption was electrical. Lady Knob-Kerrickdropped her lorgnettes and lost her place. Mr. MacFie's "adam's apple"moved up and down with alarming rapidity, testifying to the greatemotional ordeal through which he was passing. Mr. Hearty looked atMrs. Bindle, Mrs. Bindle looked at Bindle, everybody looked ateverybody else, because everyone had heard of the Temperance Fetefiasco. Lady Knob-Kerrick resumed her seat suddenly.
Then it was that Mr. Hearty had an inspiration. With a swift movementwhich precipitated him on the foot of Miss Torkington (whose anguishedexpression caused Bindle to mutter, "Fancy 'er bein' able to do thatwith 'er face!"), he landed beside Mr. Sopley. He managed to detachhis eyes from their contemplation of the ceiling and impress on himthat he had better make a reply. As he walked the few steps necessaryto reach the table, Bindle once more started clapping vigorously, agreeting that was taken up by several of the other guests, but in amore modified manner.
In a mournful and foreboding voice, thoroughly appropriate to an hourof national disaster, Mr. Sopley thanked Lady Knob-Kerrick for herwords, and the others for their notes. He referred to the shepherd,dragged in the sheep, scooped up the righteous, cast out the sinners;in short he said all the most obvious things in the most obviousmanner. He promised the Alton Roaders harps and halos, and threw therest of Fulham into the bottomless pit. With some dexterity helinked-up sin and the taxi-cab, saw in the motor-omnibus the cause ofthe weakening moral-fibre of the working-classes, expressed it as hisconviction that Europe was being drenched in blood because Fulhamthought less of faith than of football.
He was frankly pessimistic about the future of the district, anattitude of mind that appeared to have been induced by the garments ofthe local maidens. Fire and flood he promised Fulham, but made nomention of Hammersmith or Putney. In a voice that throbbed withemotion he took his official leave, having convinced everybody thatonly his intercessionary powers with heaven had stalled off for solong the impending fate he outlined.
Taking up from the table the bag of fifty pounds, he put it in hispocket and with bowed head walked towards the nearest chair.
"'Ere, you've forgotten your bed-feller, sir!" cried Bindle, pickingup the silver-mounted hot-water bottle and the framed address andcarrying them over to Mr. Sopley.
Mr. MacFie prepared himself for the ordeal before him. Standing infront of Lady Knob-Kerrick as if she had been an altar, he bowed lowbefore her.
"Your Leddyship." A pause of veneration. "Ma Freends," he continued."Few meenisters of the Gospel have the preevilege that has beenextended to me this evening. It is the will of the Almighty that Isucceed a most saintly man (murmurs of approval) in the person of Mr.Sopley. It will be a deefecult poseetion for me to fill. (Mr. Sopleyw
agged his head from side to side.) In her breeliant oration herLeddyship has emphasised some of the attreebutes of a man whosegodliness ye can all testify----"
"You shan't keep me out, you baggage. Can't I hear his dear voice! MyAndrew! Oh, Andy! Andy! and they want to keep me away from you."
The interruption came from the door, where Alice was vainlyendeavouring to keep out a dishevelled-looking creature, who finallybroke through and walked unsteadily towards the table.
Lady Knob-Kerrick turned and stared at the apparition through herlorgnettes.
Mr. MacFie's jaw dropped.
Mr. Sopley for the first time that evening seemed to forget heaven,and devoted himself to terrestrial things. Everybody was gazing withwide-eyed wonder at the cause of the interruption.
"Oh! my Andrew, my little Andy!" cried the woman in hoarse maudlintones. Her hair, to which was attached a black toque with a brilliantoval of embroidery in front, hung over her left ear. Her clothes,ill-fitting and much stained, hung upon her as if they had beenthrown--rather than put on. Her face, intended by Providence to bepretty, was tear-stained and dirty. Her blouse was open at the neckand her boots mud-stained and shapeless.
"What--what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick of Mr.MacFie, as she rose from her chair, a veritable Rhadamanthus.
The girl, who was now hanging on to Mr. MacFie's arm, turned andregarded Lady Knob-Kerrick over her shoulder.
"He's my boooy," she spluttered; then closing her eyes her headwobbled from side to side, as if her neck were unable to support it.
"Your what?" thundered Lady Knob-Kerrick.
"My--my boooy," drawled the girl, "husband. Oh! Andy, Andy!" and sheclung to Mr. MacFie the more closely in spite of his frantic effortsto shake himself free.
"Mr. MacFie, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick.
"I've--I've never seen her before," stammered Mr. MacFie, looking asif he had been grabbed by an octopus. "On ma oath, your Leddyship.Before ma God!"
"Andy, Andy! don't say such awful things," protested the girl. "Youknow you married me secret because you said Helen wouldn't let you;"and she sagged away again, half supporting herself on Mr. MacFie'sarm.
"Do you know anything of this woman?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick ofMiss MacFie.
Miss MacFie shook her head as if the question were an insult.
"Then it was a secret marriage." Lady Knob-Kerrick remembered what shehad heard of Mr. MacFie's conduct at the temperance fete. "Mr. MacFie,you have--you have disgraced----"
"Your Leddyship, on ma honour, I sweear----!"
"Don't, Andy, don't!" said the girl, striving to put her hand over hismouth. "Don't! God may strike you dead. He did it once, didn't He? Oh!I've learnt the Bible," she added in a maudlin tone. "I can singhymns, I can." She began to croon something in a wheezy voice.
Mr. MacFie made a desperate effort to free himself from her clutches,but succeeded only in bringing her to her knees.
"Look at 'im! Look at 'im!" shrieked the girl, "knocking me about,what he swore to love, honour and obey. Oh, you devil, Andy! How youused to behave, and now--and now----"
"I swear it's all a damned lee! It's ma enemy--ma enemy. Woman, I knowthee not! Thou art the scarlet woman of Babylon! Get thee from me, Icurse thee!" Mr. MacFie's Gaelic blood was up.
"Go it, sir!" said Bindle. "Go it!"
"Ye have come as the ravening wolf upon the sheep-fold at night todestroy the lamb." Mr. MacFie waved his disengaged arm.
"You bein' the lamb, sir, go it!" said Bindle.
"I'll hae the law on ye, woman, I'll hae the law on ye! Ye impostor!Ye harlot!! Ye daughter of Belial!!!" He flung his arm about, and hiseyes rolled with almost maniacal fury. "Ma God! ma God! Whypersecuteth Thou me?" he cried, lifting his eyes to the ceiling.
Then with a sudden drop to earthly things he appealed to LadyKnob-Kerrick.
"Your Leddyship, your Leddyship, do not believe this woman. She lies!She would ruin me!! I will have her arrested!!! Fetch the police!!!! Idemand the police!!!!!"
Lady Knob-Kerrick turned towards the door at the entrance of whichstood her footman.
"John, blow your police-whistle," she ordered, practical in allthings.
John disappeared. A moment later the raucous sound of a police-whistlewas heard in continuous blast.
"That's right!" shouted the woman, "that's right! Blow yourpolice-whistle! Blow your pinkish brains out!" Then with a suddenchange she turned to Mr. MacFie. "Oh, Andy, Andy! You never was thesame man after you 'ad that drink in you down in the country at thetemperance fete. Don't you remember how you laughed with me about thatOld Bird being washed out of her carriage?"
"It's a lee! It's a lee! A damnable lee!" shrieked Mr. MacFie.
Mr. MacFie was interrupted in his protestations by a sudden rush offeet, and the hall began to fill with a wild-eyed, dishevelled crowd.Mothers carrying their babies, or pulling along little children.Everyone inviting everyone else to come in. One woman was inhysterics. Lady Knob-Kerrick stared at them in wonder.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of no one in particular.
"It's a raid, mum, a raid; it's a raid," sobbed a woman, leading twolittle children with the hand and holding a baby in her disengagedarm.
Lady Knob-Kerrick paled. "A raid!" she faltered.
"Yes, mum, can't you 'ear the police-whistles?"
"Well, I'm damned!" broke in Bindle, slapping his leg in ecstasy; thena moment after, seeing the terror on the women's faces, he cried out:
"It's all right, there ain't no raid. Don't be frightened. It's oleCalves with that bloomin' police-whistle."
"Tell that fool to stop," cried Lady Knob-Kerrick. A special constablepushed his way through the crowd.
"What is all this about, please?" he demanded.
"There's a raid, sir," cried several voices.
"I give this woman in charge," cried Mr. MacFie, dramatically pointingat her who claimed to be his wife.
With alacrity the special pulled his note-book out of his pocket.
"The charge, sir?" he enquired.
"She says she's ma wife."
The special looked up from his note-book. "That is not an indictableoffence, sir, I'm afraid."
"But she's na ma wife," protested Mr. MacFie.
Another rush of people seeking shelter swept the constable on oneside, and when he once more strove to take up the thread, the womanhad disappeared.
The results of John's vigour with the police-whistle werefar-reaching. Omnibuses had drawn up to the kerb and had been promptlydeserted by passengers and crew. The trains on the District Railwaywere plunged in darkness and the authorities at Putney Bridge Stationand East Putney telephoned through that there was a big air-raid.Although nothing had been heard at head-quarters, it was deemedadvisable to take precautions. Special constables, nurses andambulances were called out, anti-aircraft stations warned, and tens ofthousands of people sent scuttling home.
Bindle was one of the first to leave the School-room, and he made hisway over to Dick Little's flat at Chelsea.
"Ah!" cried Dick Little as he opened the door, "Nancy's back. Thisway," he added, walking towards his bedroom.
In front of the dressing-table stood Private "Nancy" Dane, thefar-famed Pierrette of the Passchendaele Pierrots. He was in the actof removing from his closely-cropped head a dark wig to which wasattached a black toque with an oval of vivid-coloured embroidery.
"Well, that's that!" he remarked as he laid it on the table. "Hullo,Bindle!" he cried. "All Clear?"
"All Clear!" replied Bindle as he seated himself upon a chair andproceeded to light the big cigar that Dick Little handed him. DickLittle threw himself upon the bed.
"You done it fine," remarked Bindle approvingly, as he watched Daneslowly transform himself into a private of the line. "Pore ole Mac,"he added, "'e got the wind up proper."
"Good show, what?" queried Dick Little as he lazily pulled at hispipe, tired after a long day's work in the hospital.
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"Seemed a bit cruel to me," said Dane as he struggled out of a pair ofhefty-looking corsets.
"Cruel!" cried Bindle indignantly, as he sat up straight in his chair."Cruel! with 'im a-tryin' to take the gal away from one of the boyswot's fightin' at the front. Cruel! It wouldn't be cruel, Mr. Nancy,if 'e was cut up an' salted an' given to the 'Uns as a meat ration;"and with this ferocious pronouncement Bindle sank back again in hischair and puffed away at his cigar.
"Sorry!" said Dane, laboriously pulling off a stocking.
"Right-o!" said Bindle cheerfully. Then after a pause he added, "I gotto thank Ole 'Amlet for that little idea, and you, sir, for findin'Mr. Nancy. Did it wonderful well, 'e did; still," remarked Bindlemeditatively, "I wish they 'adn't blown that police-whistle. Them porewomen an' kids was that scared, made me feel I didn't ought to 'avedone it; but then, 'ow was I to know that the Ole Bird was goin' to'anky-panky like that with Calves. Took 'er name they did, that'ssomethink. Any'ow, ole Mac won't go 'angin' round Millikins again formany a long day. If 'e does I'll punch 'is bloomin' 'ead."
The next day Lady Knob-Kerrick and John were summoned for causing tobe blown to the public confusion a police-whistle, and although thesummonses were dismissed the magistrate said some very caustic thingsabout the insensate folly of excitable women. He furthermore made itclear that if anybody blew a police-whistle in the south-westerndistrict because somebody else's wife had come back unexpectedly, hewould without hesitation pass a sentence that would discourage anyrepetition of so unscrupulous and unpardonable an act.
Mr. MacFie cleared his character to some extent by a sermon on thefollowing Sunday upon the ninth commandment, and by inserting anadvertisement in the principal papers offering L20 to anyone who wouldgive information as to the identity of the woman who on the night ofthe 28th had created a disturbance in the Alton Road School Room.
Adventures of Bindle Page 9