Bindle groaned in spirit. He had suffered acutely that evening, mentally having had to censor every sentence before uttering it.
"Then look at the way you behaved. Eating like a gormand. You made me thoroughly ashamed of you. I could see Millie watching——"
"But she was watchin' to see I 'ad enough to eat," he protested.
"Don't tell me. Any decently refined girl would be disgusted at the way you behave. Eating jam tarts with your fingers."
"But wot should I eat 'em with?"
Before she had time to reply, the tram drew up and, following her usual custom, Mrs. Bindle made a dart for it, elbowing people right and left. She could always be trusted to make sufficient enemies in entering a vehicle to last most people for a lifetime.
"But wot should I eat 'em with?" enquired Bindle again when they were seated.
"Sssh!" she hissed, conscious that a number of people were looking at her, including several who had made acquaintance with the sharpness of her elbows.
"But if you ain't to eat jam tarts with yer fingers, 'ow are you goin' to get 'em into yer mouth?" he enquired in a hoarse whisper, which was easily heard by the greater part of the occupants of the tram. "They don't jump," he added.
A ripple of smiles broke out on the faces of most of their fellow-passengers.