"'Wot's up now?" he enquired, looking over his shoulder.
"I darsen't go in," she said tremulously. "I d-d-darsen't."
"'Ere, come along," cried Bindle persuasively. "Your ma can't eat you. Which 'ouse is it?"
"That one." She nodded in the direction of a gate opposite a lamp-post, fear and misery in her eyes.
"Come along, my dear. I won't let 'er 'urt you," and, taking her gently by the arm, he led her towards the gate. Here, however, the girl stopped once more and clung convulsively to the railings, half-dead with fright.
Opening the gate, Bindle walked up the short tiled path and, reaching up, grasped the knocker. As he did so, the door opened with such suddenness that he lurched forward, almost into the arms of a stout woman with a fiery face and angry eyes.
From Bindle her gaze travelled to the shrinking figure clinging to the railings.
"You old villain!" she cried, in a voice hoarse with passion, making a dive at Bindle, who, dodging nimbly, took cover behind a moth-eaten evergreen in the centre of the diminutive front garden.
"You just let me catch you, keeping my gal out like this, and you old enough to be her father, too. As for you, my lady, you just wait till I get you indoors. I'll show you, coming home at this time o' night."
She made another dive at Bindle; but her bulk was against her, and he found no difficulty in evading the attack.