"Funny," he remarked later as he carried the picture out of the room. "I thought she'd 'ave liked an angel."
It was Bindle who eventually solved the problem of how to convey comfort to Mrs. Bindle's distraught spirit.
One evening he accompanied the doctor to her room. After the customary questions and answers between doctor and patient, Bindle suddenly burst out.
"I got a bet on with the doctor, Lizzie."
From an anxious contemplation of the doctor's face, where she had been striving to read the worst, Mrs. Bindle turned her eyes to Bindle's cheery countenance.
"'E's bet me a quid you'll be cookin' my dinner this day week," he announced.
The effect of the announcement on Mrs. Bindle was startling. A new light sprang into her eyes, her cheeks became faintly pink as she turned to the doctor a look of interrogation.
"It's true, Mrs. Bindle, and your husband's going to lose, that is if you're careful and don't take a chill."
Within ten minutes Mrs. Bindle had fallen into a deep sleep, having first ordered Bindle to put another blanket on the bed—she was going to take no risks.
"The first time I ever knowed Mrs. B. 'ear me talk about bettin' without callin' me a 'eathen," remarked Bindle, as he saw the doctor out. "Wonders'll never cease," he murmured, as he returned to the kitchen. "One o' these days she'll be askin' me to put a shillin' on both ways. Funny things, women!"