Bindle soon discovered that conversationally the carter was limited to the "Aye" of agreement, varied in moments of unwonted enthusiasm with an "Oh, aye!"
At the end of half an hour's jolt, squeak, and crunch, the cart turned into a lane overhung by giant elms, where the sun-dried ruts were like miniature trenches.
"Better hold on," counselled the lad, as he made a clutch at the Japanese basket, which was in danger of going overboard. "It's a bit bumpy here."
"Fancy place in wet weather," murmured Bindle, as he held on with both hands. "So this is the Surrey Summer-Camp for Tired Workers," and he gazed about him curiously.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SUMMER CAMP FOR TIRED WORKERS
The Surrey Summer-Camp for Tired Workers had been planned by the Bishop of Fulham out of the largeness of his heart and the plenitude of his inexperience in such undertakings. He had borrowed a meadow, acquired a cow, hired a marquee, and wangled fifty army bell-tents and a field-kitchen, about which in all probability questions would be asked in the House. Finally as the result of a brain-wave he had requisitioned the local boy scouts. Later there would be the devil to pay with the leaders of the Boys' Brigade; but the bishop abounded in tact.
When the time came, the meadow was there, the bell-tents, the cow, and the boy scouts duly arrived; but of the marquee nothing had been seen or heard, and as for the field-kitchen, the War Office could say little beyond the fact that it had left Aldershot.
For days the bishop worked indefatigably with telephone and telegraph, endeavouring to trace the errant field-kitchen and the missing marquee; but so much of his time had been occupied in obtaining the necessary assistance to ensure that the cow was properly and punctually milked, that other things, being farther away, had seemed less insistent.