"'Ullo! wot's 'appened to them three little cherubs?" he enquired.
Mrs. Hearty began to shake and wheeze with laughter, and Millie stood looking at Bindle.
"Wot's 'appened, Millikins?" he enquired. "Done a bunk, 'ave they?"
"They're—they're in the potato-cellar, Uncle Joe," said Millie without the ghost of a smile. Somehow it seemed to her almost like a reflection on her own courage that her father and aunt should have thought only of their personal safety.
Bindle slapped his leg with keen enjoyment. "Well, I'm blowed!" he cried, "if that ain't rich. Three people wot was talkin' about puttin' their trust in Gawd a-goin' into that little funk-'ole. Well, I'm blowed!"
"Don't laugh, Uncle Joe," began Millie, "I—I——" She broke off, unable to express what was in her mind.
"Don't you worry, Millikins," he replied as he moved towards the door. "I'd better go and tell 'em that it's all right."
Mr. Hearty's potato-cellar was reached through a trap-door flush with the floor of the shop.
With the aid of an electric torch, Bindle looked about him. His eyes fell on a large pair of scales, on which were weights up to 7 lbs. This gave him an idea. Carefully placing a box beside the trap-door, he lifted the scales and weights in his arms and, with great caution, mounted on to the top of the box. Suddenly he let the scales and weights fall with a tremendous crash, full in the centre of the trap-door, at the same time giving vent to a shout. Millie came running in from the parlour.
"Oh! Uncle Joe, what has happened?" she cried. "Are you hurt?"