"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."