"What for?"
"To drink." He looked at her as if surprised at the question.
"I didn't suppose you'd bought it to wash in," was the angry retort. "There are four bottles in the cupboard. They'll last till Saturday. Why did you order more?" Mrs. Bindle was obviously suspicious.
"P'raps somebody'll get dry to-night," he temporised.
"Don't you tell me any of your wicked lies, Bindle," she cried angrily. "You know they're all temperance. How many did you order?"
"Oh, jest a few," he said, depositing the bottles on the lower shelf of the dresser. "Nothink like 'avin' a bottle or two up yer sleeve."
"Why have you got your best suit on?" She regarded with disapproval the blue suit and red necktie Bindle was wearing. Her eyes dropped to the white cuffs that only a careful manipulation of his thumbs prevented from slipping off altogether.
"Ain't it the night of the party?" he enquired innocently.
"I told you that I won't have you come in, you with your common ways and low talk."
"That's all right," he replied cheerfully. "I'm a-goin' to sit in the kitchen."