"It was pure alcohol mixed with distilled mead," was the reply.
"Well, it done the trick. Good-night, sir. Lord! won't there be some 'eads wantin' 'oldin' in the mornin'," and he laughed joyously as the pantechnicon rumbled noisily Londonwards.
CHAPTER X
MR. HEARTY PRAYS FOR BINDLE
Mrs. Bindle had just returned from evening chapel. On Sundays, especially on Sunday evenings, when there had been time for the cumulative effect of her devotions to manifest itself, Mrs. Bindle was always in a chastened mood. She controlled those gusts of temper which plunged her back into the Doric and precipitated Bindle "into 'ell, dust an' all."
On this particular evening she was almost gentle. The bangs with which she accentuated the placing of each plate and dish upon the table were piano bangs, and Bindle duly noted the circumstance.
With him Sunday was always a day of intellectual freedom. He aired his views more freely on that than on other days.
Having laid the supper, Mrs. Bindle began to remove her bonnet. With a hat-pin in her mouth and her hands stretched behind her head in the act of untying an obstreperous veil that rested like a black line across the bridge of her nose, she remarked, in that casual tone which with her betokened an item of great interest and importance:
"Mr. Hearty prayed for you to-night, Bindle."