He saw that he had made a false move in introducing the subject of sleep.
"The milk hasn't come," she announced presently with the air of one making a statement she knew would be unpopular. Bindle hated tea without milk.
"You don't say so," he remarked. "I must 'ave a word with Daisy. She didn't oughter be puttin' on 'er bloomin' frills."
"The paraffin's got into the sugar," was the next bombshell.
"Well, well," said Bindle. "I suppose you can't 'ave everythink as you would like it."
"Another time, perhaps you'll get up yourself and help with the meals."
"I ain't much at them sort o' things," he replied, conscious that Mrs. Bindle's anger was rising.
"You leave me to do everything, as if I was your slave instead of your wife."
Bindle remained silent. He realized that there were times when it was better to bow to the storm.
"Ain't it done yet?" he enquired, looking anxiously at the frying-pan.