last Bindle slipped off and began forcing his way towards the shop entrance.
"Now then," he called out cheerfully, "make way there. I'm the brother o' the corpse. Wot's it all about—a fire or a dog-show?"
The crowd good-humouredly made room. Pushing his way into the shop he hailed his brother-in-law.
"'Ullo, 'Earty; 'oldin' a levée? What-oh!"
"'E wants a dawg," broke in the dog man, indicating Lily with a jerk of his thumb.
"I come all the way from Brixton," shouted the would-be housekeeper.
"An' very nice, too," replied Bindle, as he pushed his way to the side of Mr. Hearty, who was listening with anguished intentness to an eager group of women whose one desire seemed to caretake for him.
Bindle looked round the shop with a puzzled expression, his eyes finally resting on Lily.
"Call that a dawg?" he enquired of Lily's owner with an incredulous grin.
"Yus, I do," replied the man aggressively. "What 'ud you call it? A rosy kitten?"
"Well," remarked Bindle imperturbably, regarding Lily critically, "since you arsts me, I'd call it a bloomin' 'istory o' dawgs in one volume."
"Where'll yer 'ave the coal, guv'nor?" bawled a voice from the fringe of the crowd.
At that moment Mrs. Hearty entered from the
