"Yes; but a gal can't 'elp bein' pretty," continued Bindle, following the line of his reasoning. "Now, if you'd been like some ma's, no one wouldn't 'ave wanted to keep 'er out."
"Who are you getting at?" demanded Mrs. Brunger; but there was no displeasure in her voice.
"It's only the pretty ones wot gets kept out late," continued Bindle imperturbably, his confidence rising at the signs of a weakening defence. "Now, with a ma like you," he paused eloquently, "it was bound to 'appen. You didn't ought to be too 'ard on the gal, although, mind you," he said, turning to the culprit, "she didn't ought to go out with gals against her ma's wishes, an' she's goin' to be a good gal in future—ain't that so, my dear?"
The girl nodded her head vigorously.
"There, you see," continued Bindle, turning once more to Mrs. Brunger, whose face was showing marked signs of relaxation. "Now, if I was a young chap again," he continued, looking from mother to daughter, "well, anythink might 'appen."
"Go on with you, do." Mrs. Brunger's good humour was returning.
"Well, I suppose I must," said Bindle, with a grin. "It's about time I was 'opping it."
His announcement seemed to arouse the girl. Hitherto she had stood a silent witness, puzzled at the strange turn events were taking; but now she realised that her protector was about to leave her to the enemy. She started forward, and clutched Bindle by the arm.
"Don't go!—oh, don't go! I——" She stopped suddenly, and looked across at her mother.
"You ain't a-goin' to be too 'ard on 'er?" said Bindle, interpreting the look.