As he did so a strange glint sprang into Mrs. Bindle's eyes. With a panther-like movement she dashed across to the scullery door, slammed it to and turned the key. A second later the kitchen was in darkness, and Mrs. Bindle was on her way upstairs to bed.
The continuous banging upon the scullery door as she proceeded leisurely to undress was as sweet music to her ears.
That night Bindle slept indifferently well.
CHAPTER IV
THE COMING OF JOSEPH THE SECOND
"Why can't you drink your tea like a Christian?" Mrs. Bindle hurled the words at Bindle as if she hoped they would hit him.
He gazed at her over the edge of the saucerful of tea, which he had previously cooled by blowing noisily upon it. A moment later he proceeded to empty the saucer with a sibilant sound suggestive of relish. He then replaced it upon the table.
"Might as well be among pigs, the way you behave at table," she snapped and, as if to emphasise her own refinement in taking liquids, she lifted her cup delicately to her lips, the little finger of her right hand crooked at an awkward angle.
Bindle leaned slightly towards her, his hand to his ear. Ignoring his attitude, she replaced the cup in the saucer.