Mrs. Bindle: Some Incidents from the Domestic Life of the Bindles by Jenkins (best books to read in your 20s .txt) 📖

on the subject of misguided bishops who got unsuspecting townsmen into the country under false pretences.[Pg 185]

Mrs. Bindle was a good housewife, and she had come prepared with rations sufficient for the first two days. She had, however, depended upon the statements contained in the prospectus of the S.C.T.W., that cooking facilities would be provided by the committee.

She strove to control the anger that was rising within her. It was the Sabbath, and she was among strangers.

Although ready and willing to volunteer information, the other campers saw no reason to restrain their surprise and disapproval of Mrs. Bindle's toilette. The other women were in their work-a-day attire, as befitted housewives who had dinners to cook under severe handicaps, and they resented what they regarded as a newcomer's "swank."

That first day of the holiday, for which she had fought with such grim determination, lived long in Mrs. Bindle's memory. Dinner she contrived with the aid of the frying-pan and the saucepan she had brought with her. It would have taken something more than the absence of a field-kitchen to prevent Mrs. Bindle from doing what she regarded as her domestic duty.

The full sense of her tragedy, however, manifested itself when, dinner over, she had washed-up.

There was nothing to do until tea-time. Bindle had disappeared with the man with the stubbly chin and two others in search of the nearest public-house, a mile away. Patrol-leader Smithers was at Sunday-school, whilst her fellow-campers showed no inclination to make advances.[Pg 186]

She walked for a little among the other tents; but her general demeanour was not conducive to hasty friendships. She therefore returned to the tent and wrote to Mr. Hearty, telling him, on the authority of Patrol-leader Smithers, that Mr. Timkins had a large quantity of excellent strawberries for sale.

Mr. Hearty was a greengrocer who had one eye on business and the other eye on God, in case of accidents. On hearing that the Bindles were going into the country, his mind had instinctively flown to fruit and vegetables. He had asked Mrs. Bindle to "drop him a postcard" (Mr. Hearty was always economical in the matter of postages, even other people's postages) if she heard of anything that she thought might interest him.

Mrs. Bindle told in glowing terms the story of Farmer Timkins' hoards of strawberries, giving the impression that he was at a loss what to do with them.

Three o'clock brought the bishop and a short open-air service, which was attended by the entire band of campers, with the exception of Bindle and his companions.

The bishop was full of apologies for the past and hope for the future. In place of a sermon he gave an almost jovial address; but there were no answering smiles. Everyone was wondering what they could do until it was time for bed, the more imaginative going still further and speculating what they were to do when they got there.

"My friends," the bishop concluded, "we must not[Pg 187] allow trifling mishaps to discourage us. We are here to enjoy ourselves."

And the campers returned to their tents as Achilles had done a few thousand years before, dark of brow and gloomy of heart.[Pg 188]

CHAPTER IX MR. HEARTY ENCOUNTERS A BULL

I

"He's sure to lose his way across the fields," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily.

"'Earty's too careful to lose anythink," said Bindle, as, from a small tin box, he crammed tobacco into his pipe. "'E's used to the narrow way 'e is," he added.

"You ought to have gone to meet him."

"My legs is feelin' a bit tired——" began Bindle, who enjoyed his brother-in-law's society only when there were others to enjoy it with him.

"Bother your legs," she snapped.

"Supposin' you 'ad various veins in your legs."

"Don't be nasty."

"Well, wot jer want to talk about my legs for, if I mustn't talk about yours," he grumbled.

"You've got a lewd mind, Bindle," she retorted, "and you know it."

"Well, any'ow, I ain't got lood legs."

She drew in her lips; but said nothing.

"I don't know wot 'Earty wants to come down to a funny little 'ole like this for," grumbled Bindle, as[Pg 189] they walked across the meadow adjoining the camping-ground, making for a spot that would give them a view of the field-path leading to the station.

"It's because he wants to buy some fruit."

"I thought there was somethink at the back of the old bird's mind," he remarked. "'Earty ain't one to spend railway fares jest for the love o' seein' you an' me, Mrs. B. It's apples 'es after—reg'lar old Adam 'e is. You only got to watch 'im with them gals in the choir."

"If you talk like that I shall leave you," she cried angrily; "and it's strawberries, apples aren't in yet," she added, as if that were a circumstance in Mr. Hearty's favour.

Mr. Hearty had proved himself to be a man of action. Mrs. Bindle's glowing account of vast stores of strawberries, to be had almost for the asking, had torn from him a telegram announcing that he would be at the Summer-Camp for Tired Workers soon after two o'clock that, Monday, afternoon.

Mrs. Bindle was almost genial at the prospect of seeing her brother-in-law, and earning his thanks for assistance rendered. Conditions at the camp remained unchanged. After the service on the previous day, the bishop had once more disappeared, ostensibly in pursuit of the errant field-kitchen and marquee, promising to return early the following afternoon.

Arrived at the gate on the further side of the field, Bindle paused. Then, as Mrs. Bindle refused his suggestion that he should "'oist" her up, he himself climbed on to the top-rail and sat contentedly smoking.[Pg 190]

"I don't seem to see 'Earty a-walkin' across a field," he remarked meditatively. "It don't seem natural."

"You can't see anything but what's in your own wicked mind," she retorted acidly.

"Well, well!" he said philosophically. "P'raps you're right. I suppose we shall see them merry whiskers of 'is a-comin' round the corner, 'im a-leadin' a lamb with a pink ribbon. I can see 'Earty with a little lamb, an' a sprig o' mint for the sauce."

For nearly a quarter of an hour Bindle smoked in silence, whilst Mrs. Bindle stood with eyes fixed upon a stile on the opposite side of the field, over which Mr. Hearty was due to come.

"What was that?"

Involuntarily she clutched Bindle's knee, as a tremendous roar broke the stillness of the summer afternoon.

"That's ole Farmer Timkins' bull," explained Bindle. "Rare ole sport, 'e is. Tossed a cove last week, an' made a rare mess of 'im."

"It oughtn't to be allowed."

"Wot?"

"Dangerous animals like that," was the retort.

"Well, personally myself, I likes a cut o' veal," Bindle remarked, watching Mrs. Bindle covertly; but her thoughts were intent on Mr. Hearty, and the allusion passed unnoticed.

"It 'ud be a bad thing for ole 'Earty, if that bull was to get 'im by the back o' the trousers," mused Bindle. "'Ullo, there 'e is." He indicated with the stem of his pipe a point in the hedge on the right of[Pg 191] the field, over which was thrust a great dun-coloured head.

Again the terrifying roar split the air. Instinctively Mrs. Bindle recoiled, and gripped the parrot-headed umbrella she was carrying.

"It's trying to get through. I'm not going to wait here," she announced with decision. "It may——"

"Don't you worry, Mrs. B.," he reassured her. "'E ain't one o' the jumpin' sort. Besides, there's an 'edge between 'im an' us, not to speak o' this 'ere gate."

Mrs. Bindle retired a yard or two, her eyes still on the dun-coloured head.

So absorbed were she and Bindle in watching the bull, that neither of them saw Mr. Hearty climbing the opposite stile.

As he stood on the topmost step, silhouetted against the blue sky, the tails of his frock-coat flapping, Bindle caught sight of him.

"'Ullo, 'ere's old 'Earty!" he cried, waving his hand.

Mr. Hearty descended gingerly to terra firma, then, seeing Mrs. Bindle, he raised his semi-clerical felt hat. In such matters, Mr. Hearty was extremely punctilious.

At that moment the bull appeared to catch sight of the figure with the flapping coat-tails.

It made a tremendous onslaught upon the hedge, and there was a sound of crackling branches; but the hedge held.

"Call out to him, Bindle. Shout! Warn him! Do you hear?" cried Mrs. Bindle excitedly.[Pg 192]

"'E's all right," said Bindle complacently. "That there bull ain't a-goin' to get through an 'edge like that."

"Mr. Hearty, there's a bull! Run!"

Mrs. Bindle's thin voice entirely failed to carry to where Mr. Hearty was walking with dignity and unconcern, regardless of the danger which Mrs. Bindle foresaw threatened him.

The bull made another attack upon the hedge. Mr. Hearty's flapping coat-tails seemed to goad it to madness. There was a further crackling and the massive shoulders of the animal now became visible; but still it was unable to break through.

"Call out to him, Bindle. He'll be killed, and it'll be your fault," she cried hysterically, pale and trembling with anxiety.

"Look out, 'Earty!" yelled Bindle. "There's a bloomin' bull," and he pointed in the direction of the hedge; but the bull had disappeared.

Mr. Hearty looked towards the point indicated; but, seeing nothing, continued his dignified way, convinced that Bindle was once more indulging in what Mr. Hearty had been known to describe as "his untimely jests."

He was within some fifty yards of the gate where the Bindles awaited him, when there was a terrific crash followed by a mighty roar—the bull was through. It had retreated apparently in order to charge the hedge and break through by virtue of its mighty bulk.

Bindle yelled, Mrs. Bindle screamed, and Mr. Hearty[Pg 193] gave one wild look over his shoulder and, with terror in his eyes and his semi-clerical hat streaming behind, attached only by a hat-guard, he ran as he had never run before.

Bindle clambered down from the gate so as to leave the way clear, and Mrs. Bindle thrust her umbrella into Bindle's hands. She had always been told that no bull would charge an open umbrella.

"Come on, 'Earty!" yelled Bindle. "Run like 'ell!" In his excitement he squatted down on his haunches, for all the world like a man encouraging a whippet.

Mr. Hearty ran, and the bull, head down and with a snorting noise that struck terror to the heart of the fugitive, ran also.

"Run, Mr. Hearty, run!" screamed Mrs. Bindle again.

The bull was running diagonally in the direction of Mr. Hearty's fleeing figure. In this it was at a disadvantage.

"Get ready to help him over," cried Mrs. Bindle, terror clutching at her heart.

"Looks to me as if 'Earty and the bull and the whole bloomin' caboodle'll come over together," muttered Bindle.

"Oooooh!"

A new possibility seemed to strike Mrs. Bindle and, with a terrified look at the approaching bull, which at that moment gave utterance to a super-roar, she turned and fled for the gate on the opposite side of the field.[Pg 194]

For a second Bindle tore his gaze from the drama before him. He caught sight of several inches of white leg above a pair of elastic-sided boots, out of which dangled black and orange tabs.

"Help, Joseph, help!" Mr. Hearty screamed in his terror and, a second later, he crashed against the gate on which Bindle had climbed ready to haul him over.

Seizing his brother-in-law by the collar and a mercifully slack pair of trousers, he gave him a mighty heave. A moment later, the two fell to the ground; but on the right side of the gate. As they did so, the bull crashed his head against it.

The whole structure shivered. For a moment Bindle gave himself up for lost; but, fortunately, the posts held. The enraged animal could do nothing more than thrust its muzzle between the bars of the gate and snort its fury.

The foaming mouth and evil-looking blood-shot eyes caused Bindle to scramble hastily to his feet.

"Oh God! I am a miserable sinner," wailed Mr. Hearty; "but spare me that I may repent." Then he fell to moaning, whilst Bindle caught a vision of Mrs. Bindle disappearing over the further gate with a startling exposure of white stocking.

"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered. "Ain't it funny 'ow religion gets into the legs when there's a bull about? Bit of a slump in 'arps, if you was to ask me!"

For some seconds he stood gazing down on the grovelling form of Mr. Hearty, an anxious eye on the[Pg 195] bull which, with angry snorts, was battering the gate in a manner that caused him some concern.

"Look 'ere, 'Earty, you'd better nip orf," he said at length, bringing his boot gently into contact with a prominent portion of the greengrocer's prostrate form. Mr. Hearty merely groaned and muttered appeals to the Almighty to save him.

"It ain't no use a-kickin' up all that row," Bindle continued. "This 'ere bit o' beef seems to 'ave taken a fancy to you, 'Earty, an' that there gate ain't none too strong, neither. 'Ere, steady Kayser," he admonished, as the bull made a vicious dash with its head against the gate.

Mr. Hearty sat up and gave a wild look about him. At the