"I come all the way from Brixton," shouted the would-be housekeeper.
"An' very nice, too," replied Bindle, as he pushed his way to the side of Mr. Hearty, who was listening with anguished intentness to an eager group of women whose one desire seemed to caretake for him.
Bindle looked round the shop with a puzzled expression, his eyes finally resting on Lily.
"Call that a dawg?" he enquired of Lily's owner with an incredulous grin.
"Yus, I do," replied the man aggressively. "What 'ud you call it? A rosy kitten?"
"Well," remarked Bindle imperturbably, regarding Lily critically, "since you arsts me, I'd call it a bloomin' 'istory o' dawgs in one volume."
"Where'll yer 'ave the coal, guv'nor?" bawled a voice from the fringe of the crowd.
At that moment Mrs. Hearty entered from the parlour behind the shop. She gazed about her in mild wonderment.
"We don't want any coals, Alf. We had them in last week." Mrs. Hearty subsided into a chair. Suddenly her eyes fell upon Lily, who was trying to shake off her head Mr. Hearty's hat, which someone had placed there, and she collapsed, helpless with laughter.
"'Ere, get out of it," cried Bindle, giving Lily a cuff, whereat she yelped dismally. Providence had evidently intended her for doughty deeds, having endowed her with the frame of an Amazon, but had then lost interest and given her the heart of a craven.