ain't easy, is it?" said Bindle cheerfully. "Must 'ave caused you a rare lot o' trouble, a name like that."
Mr. Gupperduck eyed him disapprovingly. He was a small, thin man, with a humourless cast of face, large round spectacles, three distinct wisps of overworked hair that failed to conceal his baldness, a short brown beard that seemed to stand out straight from his chin, and a red nose. His upper lip was bare, save for a three days' growth of bristles.
"Looks like a owl wot's been on the drink," was Bindle's mental comment. "You can read 'is 'ole 'istory in the end of 'is nose."
"Been a pleasant day," remarked Bindle conversationally, quite forgetful that it had rained continuously since early morning.
"Pleasant!" interrogated Mr. Gupperduck.
Bindle suddenly remembered. "For the ducks, I mean," he said; then with inspiration added, "not for Gupperducks."
"Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle. "You forget yourself."
"Oh, don't mind me, Mr. G.," said Bindle; "there ain't no real 'arm in me."
Bindle proceeded to put "an 'ead on the beer." This he did by pouring it into the glass from a distance of fully a yard and with astonishing accuracy. Catching Mr. Gupperduck's eye, he winked.
"Can't get an 'ead like that on lemonade," he remarked cheerfully.
The atmosphere was constrained. Mr. Gupperduck was tired and hungry, Bindle was hungry without being tired, and Mrs. Bindle was grimly prepared for the worst.
"Well, 'ere's long legs to the baby!" cried Bindle, raising his glass and drinking thirstily.
Mrs. Bindle cast a swift glance at Mr. Gupperduck, who gazed at Bindle wonderingly over the top of the spoon he was raising to his mouth.
The meal continued in silence. Bindle was hypnotised by Mr. Gupperduck's ears. They stood out from each side of his head like sign-boards, as if determined that nothing should escape them.
After a time Mr. Gupperduck began to show signs that the first ardour of his appetite had been appeased.
"If it ain't a rude question, mister," began Bindle, "might I ask wot's your job?"
"I'm in the service of the Lord," replied Mr. Gupperduck in a harsh tone.
"Trade union wages?" queried Bindle with assumed innocence.
"Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle, "behave yourself."
"I am a sower of the seed," said Mr. Gupperduck pompously and with evident self-satisfaction.
"Well, personally myself," said Bindle, "I ain't much belief in them allotments. You spend all your time in diggin', gettin' yourself in an 'ell of a mess, an' then somebody comes along an' pinches your bloomin' vegetables."
"I refer to the spiritual seed," said Mr. Gupperduck. "I preach the word of God, the peace that passeth all understanding."
Bindle groaned inwardly, and silence fell once more over the board.
"Mrs. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck at length, "you have given me a most excellent supper."
Mrs. Bindle's lips became slightly visible.
"The Lord shall feed his flock," remarked Mr. Gupperduck apropos of nothing in particular, "and——"
"'E keeps a few little pickin's for 'Is Gupperducks," flashed Bindle.
"Bindle!" Mrs. Bindle glanced across at Mr. Gupperduck. The two then entered into a conversation upon the ways of the Lord, about which they both seemed to possess vast stores of the most intimate information. From their conversation Bindle gathered that Mr. Gupperduck was a lecturer in the parks, mission-halls and the like, being connected with the Society for the Suppression of Atheism.
"And what are the tenets of your spiritual faith, Mr. Bindle?" Mr. Gupperduck suddenly turned and addressed himself to Bindle.
"Wot's my wot?" enquired Bindle with corrugated forehead.
"He's a blasphemer, Mr. Gupperduck, I'm sorry to say," volunteered Mrs. Bindle.
Mr. Gupperduck regarded Bindle as if Mrs. Bindle had said he was the "Missing Link."
"Mr. Bindle," he said earnestly, "have you ever thought of the other world?"
"Thought of the other world!" Bindle exclaimed. "If you lived with Mrs. B., you wouldn't 'ave much time for thinkin' of anythink else. She's as dotty about 'eaven as an 'en over a 'shop-egg,' an' as for 'Earty, that's my brother-in-law, well, 'Earty gets my goat when 'e starts about 'eaven an' angels."
"I fear you speak lightly of serious things, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck harshly. "Think of when the trumpet shall sound incorruptible and——!"
"Think o' when the all-clear bugle sounds in Fulham," responded Bindle.
Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs. Bindle in horror.
"I'm a special, you know," explained Bindle. "I got to be on the listen for that bugle after the air-raids. My! don't they jest nip back into their little beds again, feelin' 'ow brave they've all been."
Mr. Gupperduck seemed to come to the conclusion that Bindle was hopeless. For the next half-hour he devoted himself to conversing with Mrs. Bindle about "the message" he was engaged in delivering.
"You plays, don't you?" enquired Bindle, as Mr. Gupperduck rose.
"I am very fond of my accordion," replied Mr. Gupperduck.
"I suppose you couldn't give us a tune?" ventured Bindle.
"Not to-night, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck. "I have a lot to do to-morrow." Then, as if suddenly remembering his pose, he added, "There is the Lord's work to be done on the morrow, and His servant hath need of rest."
Bindle stared. Mrs. Bindle regarded her lodger with admiration tinctured with awe. When Mr. Gupperduck could not call to mind an appropriate passage from the Scriptures, he invented one.
"I'm sorry," remarked Bindle, as Mr. Gupperduck moved towards the door. "I wanted you to play a thing I picked up at The Granville the other night. It was a rare good song, 'If You Squeeze Me Tighter, Jimmie, I Shall Scream.' I can whistle it if——" but Mr. Gupperduck was gone.
Then the storm burst.
"You're a disgrace to any respectable 'ome, Joseph Bindle, that you are," Mrs. Bindle broke out as soon as Mr. Gupperduck's bedroom door was heard to close.
"Me?" enquired Bindle in obvious surprise.
"What must he think of us?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. "You with your lewd and blasphemous talk."
"Wot 'ave I done now?" enquired Bindle in an injured tone.
"Talkin' about babies' legs, and—and—oh! you make me ashamed, you do." Mrs. Bindle proceeded to bang away the supper things.
"Steady on," admonished Bindle, "or you'll 'ave the Duck out o' bed."
"What must 'e think of me with such an 'usband?" Mrs. Bindle's aitches were dropping from her under the stress of her pent-up feelings.
"Well! speakin' for myself," said Bindle, relighting his pipe, which had gone out, "he most likely thinks you're an uncommon lucky woman. You see, Lizzie," Bindle continued evenly, "you're fickle, that's wot's the matter with you."
Mrs. Bindle paused in the act of pouring water over the piled-up dishes in the sink.
"As soon as you sees another cove wot takes your fancy, you sort o' loses your taste for your own 'usband."
Bindle seated himself at the table and spread out the evening paper.
"First it's 'Earty, then it's Gupperduck. Now I ask you, Mrs. B., wot would you think if I was to say we must 'ave a woman lodger? Now I ask you!"
"That's quite different," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily.