"Did anybody hold up their hands?" asked Mrs. Bindle.
"Yes, up went my little 'and like a whiz-bang," announced Bindle.
Mrs. Bindle gave Bindle a look that she usually reserved for Mr. Hearty.
"'Well, sir!' says 'e, lookin' at me, 'wot is your question?'
"'Well,' says I, 'will you and your pals come round with me to-morrow morning an' try and enlist?' There was a rare lot of khaki boys round there, and didn't they raise a yell. That was the end of that meeting. Every time anyone tried to get up an' speak, them khaki boys started a-'ootin' and a-callin' out, and 'avin' of a rare ole time. There was one cove wot made us laugh fit to die. Every time one o' the atheists started talkin', 'e said in a 'igh-pitched voice, 'Oh, Cuthbert, don't!' as if it was a gal wot was being squeezed."
Mrs. Bindle had listened to Bindle with the nearest approach to approval that she had ever shown.
"There was another cove there," continued Bindle, warming to his subject. "Funny little feller 'e was too, all cap an' overcoat, talking about the Judgment Day. Awful things 'e promised us, 'e did. Made out as if Gawd was worse than an 'Un. 'E said 'e'd be standin' beside Gawd when all the people was judged, and 'e'd tell 'Im 'ow 'e'd been in Regent's Park a-warnin' people wot was goin' to 'appen, and no one wouldn't take no notice. Then we was all goin' to be sent into a sort of mixed-grill and burnt for ever. Nice comforting little cove 'e was; pleasant to live with," added Bindle drily.
"Why religion can't make you 'appy without you a-tryin' to make other people un'appy is wot does me. When I got a good cigar I don't go waving it in the face of every cove I meets, saying, 'Ah! you ain't got a cigar like this, you only got a woodbine.' Don't seem good-natured, it don't."
"We've got to save souls," remarked Mrs. Bindle with grim decision.
"But didn't a man ought to be good because he wants to be good, and not because 'e's afraid of being bad?" demanded Bindle.