"It's a lie, I tell you." Mr. Hearty's voice was almost tearful. "It's a wicked endeavour to ruin me."
"All you got to do, 'Earty," said Bindle, "is to go to ole Six-an'-Eightpence an' 'ave 'er up."
"It's a lie, I tell you," said Mr. Hearty weakly as he sank down upon the couch.
"So you jest said," remarked Bindle calmly. "I thought I better let you know she was goin' up to tell the Ole Bird on the 'Ill. Women is funny things, 'Earty, when you gets their goat. She asked me if I'd mind 'er goin'. Says she wouldn't do anythink I didn't want 'er to, because I was the only one wot stood by 'er. Made a rare fuss, she did, though it wasn't much I done. Well, 'Earty, you're busy, an' I must be orf." Bindle made a movement towards the door.
"Joseph, you must stop her!" Mr. Hearty sprang up, his eyes dilated with fear.
"Me!" exclaimed Bindle in surprise. "It ain't nothink to do with me. You jest been tellin' me I'm always a-buttin' in where I ain't wanted, and now——"
"But—but you must, Joseph," pleaded Mr. Hearty. "If this was to get about, it would ruin me."
"Now ain't you funny, 'Earty," said Bindle. "'Ere are you a-wantin' me to do wot you said 'urt your feelin's."
"If you do this, Joseph, I'll—I'll——"
Bindle looked at Mr. Hearty steadily. "I'll try," he said, "an' now I must be 'oppin'. Toosday I think was the date. I suppose you'll be 'avin' it at the chapel? I'd like to 'ave a word with Millikins before I go. I'll come into the parlour with you, 'Earty."