Half an hour later, he climbed the stile over which Mrs. Bindle had disappeared; but there was no sign either of her or of Mr. Hearty.
It was not until he reached the Summer-Camp that he found them seated outside the Bindles' tent. Mr. Hearty, looking pasty of feature, was endeavouring to convey to his blanched lips a cup of tea that Mrs. Bindle had just handed to him; but the trembling of his hand caused it to slop over the side of the cup on to his trousers.
"'Ullo, 'ere we are again," cried Bindle cheerily.
"I wonder you aren't ashamed of yourself," cried Mrs. Bindle.
Bindle stared at her with a puzzled expression. He looked at Mr. Hearty, then back again at Mrs. Bindle.
"Leaving Mr. Hearty and me like that. We might have been killed." Her voice shook.
"That would 'ave been a short cut to 'arps an' wings."
"I'm ashamed of you, that I am," she continued, while Mr. Hearty turned upon his brother-in-law a pair of mildly reproachful eyes.
"Well, I'm blowed," muttered Bindle as he walked away. "If them two ain't IT. Me a-leavin' them. If that ain't a juicy bit."
Mr. Hearty was only half-way through his second cup of tea when the Bishop of Fulham, followed by several of the summer-campers, appeared and walked briskly towards them.