On the Monday Bindle was home from work early, only to be informed that Mr. Gupperduck would not arrive until eight o'clock.
"Now you just be careful what you say, Bindle," Mrs. Bindle had admonished him as she busied herself with innumerable saucepans upon the stove.
"Don't you be nervous, Mrs. B.," he reassured her, sniffing the savoury air with keen anticipation, "there ain't nothink wrong with my conversation once I gets goin'. Wot about drink?" he demanded as he unhooked from the dresser the blue and white jug with the crimson butterfly just beneath the spout.
"He's temperance," replied Mrs. Bindle with unction.
"Well, I 'ope 'e looks it," was Bindle's comment as he went out.
When time permitted, Bindle's method of fetching the supper-beer was what he described as "'alf inside and 'alf in the jug," which meant that he spent half an hour in pleasant converse with congenial spirits at The Yellow Ostrich.
When he returned to Fenton Street, Mr. Gupperduck had arrived. Depositing the jug upon the table with deliberation, Bindle turned to welcome the guest.
"Pleased to see you, Mr. Gutter——" He paused, the name had momentarily escaped him.
"Gupperduck, Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," volunteered the lodger.
"It ain't easy, is it?" said Bindle cheerfully. "Must 'ave caused you a rare lot o' trouble, a name like that."