When Bindle entered the drawing-room, Mr. Hearty, Mr. MacFie, Mr. Gupperduck and Mrs. Bindle were gathered round the harmonium. Mrs. Hearty sat in her customary place upon the sofa waiting for someone to address her that she might confide in them upon the all-absorbing subject of her breath.
Mr. Gupperduck was seated on a chair, endeavouring to discipline his accordion into not sounding E sharp continuously through each hymn. The others were awaiting with keen interest the outcome of the struggle.
"Got a pain, ain't it?" enquired Bindle, having greeted everybody, as he stood puffing volumes of smoke from one of "Sprague's Fulham Whiffs," a "smoke" he still affected when Lord Windover was not present to correct his taste in tobacco.
"Well, wot's the joke?" he went on, looking from the lugubrious countenance of Mr. MacFie to the melancholy foreboding depicted on that of Mr. Hearty.
Turning to Mrs. Hearty, Bindle pointed his cigar at her accusingly. "You been tellin' naughty stories, Martha," he said, "I can see it. Look at them coves over there"; he turned his cigar towards Mr. Gupperduck and Mr. MacFie. "Oh, Martha, Martha!" and he wagged his head solemnly at Mrs. Hearty, who was already in a state of helpless laughter, "ain't you jest the limit, and 'im a parson, too."
Millie Hearty entered the room at this moment and ran up to her uncle, greeting him affectionately.
"Oh, Uncle Joe, I'm so glad you've come," she cried. "You never come to see us now."
"Well, well, Millikins, it can't be 'elped. It's the war, you know. That cove Llewellyn John is always wantin' me round to give 'im advice. Then I 'ave to run over an' give Haig an 'int or two. Ain't the Kayser jest mad when 'e 'ears I been over, because it means another push. Why, would you believe it, sir," he turned to Mr. MacFie, "the reason they didn't make ole 'Indenburg a prince last birthday was because 'e 'adn't been able to land me.
"'Get me Joe Bindle, dead or alive,' said the Kayser to 'Indy, 'an' I'll make you a prince,' an' ain't old 'Indenburg ratty." Bindle nodded his head knowingly.
Millie laughed. "You mustn't tell such wicked fibs on Sunday, Uncle Joe," she cried. "It's very naughty of you."