"Wot's 'e been doin'?" enquired Bindle of a weedy-looking man with long hair, a sandy pointed beard, and a cloth cap, three sizes too large for him, which rested on the tops of his ears. "Wot's 'e been up to?"
"He's been addressing a meeting," replied the man in a mournful voice.
Bindle turned once more to Mr. Gupperduck and examined him closely.
"Looks as if the meetin's been addressin' 'im, don't it?" he remarked.
"It was not a very successful meeting," remarked the other supporter of Mr. Gupperduck, a very little man with a very long beard. "It wasn't a very successful meeting," he repeated with conviction.
"Well, I never seen a meetin' make such alterations in a man in all my puff," remarked Bindle.
Mrs. Bindle had busied herself in preparing a basin of hot water with which to wash the mud and blood from the victim's pallid face. With closed eyes Mr. Gupperduck continued to breathe heavily.
Bindle with practical samaritanism went into the parlour and returned with a half-quartern bottle. Pouring some of the contents into a glass he held it to Mr. Gupperduck's lips. Without the least resistance the liquid was swallowed.
"Took that down pretty clean," said Bindle, looking up at the man with the sandy beard.
"Don't do that!" cried Mrs. Bindle, turning suddenly, her nostrils detecting the smell of alcohol.