Mrs. Bindle Part 14

"I didn't say anythink," he mumbled, picking up his cap and making for the door, thankful that it was Sat.u.r.day, and that he would be home in time to see his beloved niece.

That afternoon Bindle arrived home with his pockets bulging, and several parcels of varying sizes under his arm.

"What have you got there?" demanded Mrs. Bindle, who was occupied in spreading a white cloth upon the kitchen table.

"Oh! jest a few things for 'is Nibs," was the response.

"For who?"

"The nipper," he explained, as he proceeded to unburden himself of the parcels, laying them on the dresser.

"I wish you'd try and talk like a Christian," and she banged a metal tea-tray upon the table.

Bindle ignored her remark. He was engaged in taking from its wrappings a peculiarly hideous rag-doll.

Mrs. Bindle paused in her preparations to watch the operation.

"What's that for?" she demanded aggressively.

"Millie's kid," he replied, devoting himself to the opening of other packages, and producing a monkey-on-a-stick, an inexpensive teddy-bear, a jack-in-the-box and several metal animals, which on being blown through emitted strident noises.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, wasting money on hideous things like that. They'd frighten the poor child to death."

"Frighten 'im!" he cried. "These ain't goin' to frighten 'im. You wait an' 'ear wot 'e's got to say about 'em."

"You just clear those things out of my kitchen," was the uncompromising rejoinder. "I won't have the poor child sent into convulsions because you're a fool."

There was something in her voice which caused Bindle meekly to gather together the toys and carry them out of the kitchen and upstairs, where he placed them in a drawer devoted entirely to his own possessions.

"Well, I'm blowed," he murmured, as he laid them one beside another.

"And me a-thinkin' they'd make 'im laugh;" with that he closed the drawer, determined that, at least, Millie should see the toys that were as much a tribute to her as to her offspring.

"Fancy little Millikins 'avin' a kid all of 'er own," he muttered, as he descended the stairs, "'er wot I used to dangle on my knee till she crowed again. Well, well," he added as he opened the kitchen door, "we ain't none of us gettin' younger."

"Wot's that?" enquired Mrs. Bindle.

"Merely a sort o' casual remark that none of us ain't puttin' back the clock."

Mrs. Bindle sniffed disdainfully, and busied herself with preparations for tea.

"Why didn't you tell me before that Millikins was comin'?" he enquired.

"Because you're never in as any other decent husband is."

He recognised the portents and held his peace.

When Mrs. Bindle was busy, her temper had a tendency to be on what Bindle called "the short side," and then even her favourite hymn, "Gospel Bells," frequently failed to stem the tide of her wrath.

"Ain't we goin' to 'ave tea in the parlour?" he enquired presently, as Mrs. Bindle smoothed the cloth over the kitchen table.

"No, we're not," she snapped, thinking it unnecessary to add that Millie had particularly requested that she might have it "in your lovely kitchen," because she was "one of the family."

Although Bindle infinitely preferred the kitchen to that labyrinth of furniture and knick-knacks known as the parlour, he felt that the occasion demanded the discomfort consequent upon ceremony. He was, however, too wise to criticise the arrangement; for Mrs. Bindle's temper and tongue were of a known sharpness that counselled moderation.

She had made no mention of the time of Millie's arrival, and Bindle decided not to take the risk of enquiring. He contented himself with hovering about, getting under Mrs. Bindle's feet, as she expressed it, and managing to place himself invariably in the exact spot she was making for.

If he sat on a chair, Mrs. Bindle seemed suddenly to discover that it required dusting. If he took refuge in a corner, Mrs. Bindle promptly dived into it with an "Oh! get out of my way, do," and he would do a swift side-step, only to make for what was the high-road of her next strategic move.

"Why don't you go out like you always do?" she demanded at one point.

"Because Millikins is comin'," he replied simply.

"Yes, you can stay at home for--when somebody's coming," she amended, "but other days you leave me alone for weeks together."

"But when I do stay at 'ome you 'ustles me about like a stray goat," he complained, only just succeeding in avoiding a sudden dash on Mrs.

Bindle's part.

"That's right, go on. Blame everything on to me," she cried, as she made a swift dive for the stove, and proceeded to poke the fire as if determined to break the fire-brick at the back. "If you'd only been a proper 'usband to me I might have been different."

Bindle slipped across the kitchen and stepped out into the pa.s.sage. Here he remained until Mrs. Bindle suddenly threw open the kitchen door.

"What are you standing there for?" she demanded angrily.

"So as not to get in the way," was the meek reply.

"You want to be able to tell Millie that you were turned out of the kitchen," she stormed. "I know you and your mean, deceitful ways. Well, stay there if you like it!" and she banged the door, and Bindle heard the key turn in the lock.

"There's one thing about Mrs. B.," he remarked, as he leaned against the wall, "she ain't dull."

When at length the expected knock came, it was Mrs. Bindle who darted out and opened the door to admit Millie Dixon, carrying in her arms the upper end of what looked like a cascade of white lace.

A sudden fit of shyness seized Bindle, and he retreated to the kitchen; whilst aunt and niece greeted one another in the pa.s.sage.

"Where's Uncle Joe?" he heard Millie ask presently.

"I'm 'ere, Millikins," he called-out, "cookin' the veal for that there young prodigal."

A moment later Millie, flushed and happy, fluttered into the room, still holding the cascade of lace.

"Darling Uncle Joe," she cried, advancing towards him.

He took a step backwards, a look of awe in his eyes, which were fixed upon the top of the cascade.

"Aren't you going to kiss me, Uncle Joe?" she asked, holding up her face.

"Kiss you, my dear, why----" Bindle was seized with a sudden huskiness in his voice, as he leaned forward gingerly and kissed the warm red lips held out to him.

"Is that It?" he asked, looking down with troubled eyes at Millie's burden.