"My! ain't them boys jest 'It,'" muttered Bindle as he withdrew his head and proceeded with the work of reloading the van.
Two hours later the van was grinding down Putney Hill with the skid-pan adjusted. Ginger had gone home, Wilkes was on top, and Bindle sat on the tail-board smoking.
"Well, 'e got 'ome all right on the Ole Bird to-day," remarked Bindle contentedly. "My! ain't 'e a knock-out for 'is little joke. Beats me does Mr. Little, an' I takes a bit o' beatin'."
CHAPTER XVI
MILLIE'S WEDDING
"It don't seem right, some'ow," muttered Bindle, as he stood before the oval mirror of what a misguided Fulham tradesman had catalogued as "an elegant duchesse dressing-table in walnut substitute." "A concertina-'at don't seem jest right for a weddin'!"
Bindle readjusted the crush-hat that had come to him as part of the properties belonging to the Oxford Adventure. He tried it on the back of his head, over his eyes and at the Sir David Beatty Angle.
"Oh, get out of the way, do! We shall be late." Mrs. Bindle, in petticoat and camisole, pushed Bindle aside and took her place in front of the mirror. "Anybody would think you was a woman, standing looking at yourself in front of the glass. What'll Mr. Hearty say if we're late?"
"You need never be afraid of what 'Earty'll say," remarked Bindle philosophically, "because 'e'll never say anythink wot can't be printed in a parish magazine."