Bindle looked at her curiously.
"Them was the days when yer wasn't above goin' to a music-'all. There ain't nowhere to take yer 'cept the chapel, an' I don't enjoy it as you an' 'Earty do."
"Where do you expect to go to?" demanded Mrs. Bindle angrily. She always became angry when mention was made of the pleasures she once enjoyed. "Where do you expect to go to?"
"Well," remarked Bindle judicially, "accordin' to you an' 'Earty it's a place where yer don't 'ave to pay no water rates."
Mrs. Bindle sniffed derisively.
"Look 'ere, my one an' only," continued Bindle, "I got to 'ave a pretty bad time in the next world, accordin' to wot you an' 'Earty believes, so I'm goin' to the pictures an' I'll 'ave a drink or two in this. If I was as sure of 'eaven as you an' 'Earty is, maybe I'd be more careful."
Mrs. Bindle banged the iron she was using down upon the rest, but made no comment.
"Well, see you later, if I'm lucky," said Bindle, and he was gone.
He found Millie in a fever of expectation. She opened the door to him herself, looking very pretty and smart in her Sunday hat.
"I was so afraid you'd forget, uncle," she whispered, snuggling against him as they walked along. "You look so nice," she added.
Bindle looked down at himself and grinned.
