"We met Mr. Hearty in Putney High Street and he's taken her home. I don't know what to do. I'm——"
Bindle whistled. "'Oly Angels, 'ere's a go," he exclaimed. "'Ere, come along, young feller, we mustn't stop a-jawin' 'ere." Hurriedly they left the cinema together.
"'Ow long ago was this?" enquired Bindle, as they hurried along in the direction of Fulham High Street.
"About ten minutes. What shall we do?" Charlie Dixon's voice shook with anxiety.
"Well," said Bindle, "yer'd better go 'ome. I'm goin' to 'ave it out with 'Earty." There was a grim note in Bindle's voice. "I ain't a-goin' to leave our little Millikins to 'im."
Charlie Dixon felt that at that moment he could have hugged Bindle. All he could do was to grip his arm. His voice had deserted him.
"'E learnt that from Millikins," murmured Bindle to himself as they sped along. Outside the Grand Theatre they parted, Charlie Dixon vowing that he would wait there until Bindle came to him.
"There's goin' to be an 'ell of a row," muttered Bindle, as he rang the Heartys' bell.
He was admitted by a tearful Mrs. Hearty.
"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad," she wheezed. "Go up; I'll——"