“Yes; but what’s Bindley to do with it?” asked Mr. Dobb. “This is a free country, ain’t it?”
“Bindley’s a-carrying on with ’er!” stated Mr. Clark, passionately. “I’ve been keeping my heye on ’er, so I know. This last day or two I’ve stood ’elpless at the corner of ’er road and seen ’im call for ’er and take ’er out time and time again. Good as hengaged to each other, they are, so ’er landlady’s ’usband’s brother told me—and learning that cost me one and seven. Yes; and this very hafternoon I see ’em side by side on a seat on the cliffs, where I’d followed ’em, and they was playing slap ’ands, if you please. What do you make of that?”
“You’ll ’ave to promise to be nothing more than a brother to ’er, after all, Sam,” said Mr. Dobb, with an unsympathetic levity which caused his companion to stare at him in a wounded way and then stalk offendedly on.
Mr. Dobb, resuming his way, reached his abode, and sat down in an arm-chair to indulge in meditation. At the end of twenty minutes he leaped to his feet.
“Good enough!” he cried, joyously.
Mr. Marmaduke Bellaby, sauntering abroad on the morrow, found himself met by Mr. Dobb. In this there was no novelty, nor was there in their consequent adjournment to the “Royal William.”
“And ’ow did the show go last night?” asked Mr. Dobb.
“Great, laddie, great!” returned the other, though not entirely convincingly.
“’Ave a crowded haudience?”
Mr. Bellaby regarded Mr. Dobb quizzically. “Well, we didn’t exactly have to turn them away from the doors,” he confessed.