"That's a good gal," said Bindle approvingly.
"You've done her a lot of good, Mr. Bindle," said Mrs. Brunger, "and me and George are grateful, ain't we, George?"
Mr. Brunger, a heavy-faced man with sad, lustreless eyes and a sallow skin, nodded. He was a man to whom speech came with difficulty, but on this occasion his utterance was constricted by a fish-bone lodged somewhere in the neighbourhood of the root of his tongue.
"Wonderful 'ow all the gals take to me," remarked Bindle. "Chase me round gooseberry bushes, they do; anythink to get me."
"You go on with you, do," laughed Mrs. Brunger. "How was I to know?"
"I said I was a dove. You 'eard me, didn't you, Fluffy?" he demanded, turning to Elsie.
"I won't be called Fluffy," she cried, in mock indignation. "You know I don't like it."
"The man who goes about doin' wot a woman says she likes ain't goin' to get much jam," remarked Bindle oracularly.
"Now, let's get cleared away, mother," remarked Mr. Brunger, speaking for the first time.
"Oh, dad! don't you love your dominoes?" cried Elsie, jumping up and giving him a hug. "All right, mums and I will soon sound the 'All clear.' Come along, uncle, you butle." This to Bindle.