comparatively safe. He was, as far as Mrs. Bindle knew, going to "a job," and, what was more, he was taking the clock to be repaired. He sidled tactically along the wall towards the door, as if keenly interested in getting his pipe to draw. Mrs. Bindle opened fire. 

 "How long's your job for?"  She turned round in the act of wiping out a saucepan. 

 "Only to-night," replied Bindle somewhat lamely. He was afraid of where further romancing might lead him. 

 "Call that a job?" she enquired scornfully.  "How long am I to go on keepin' you in idleness?"  Mrs. Bindle cleaned the Alton Road Chapel, where she likewise worshipped, and to this she referred. 

 "I'll get another job to-morrow; don't be down'earted," Bindle replied cheerfully. 

 "Down'earted! Y' ought to be ashamed o' yerself," exploded Mrs. Bindle, as she banged the saucepan upon its shelf and seized a broom. Bindle regarded her with expressionless face.  "Y' ought to be ashamed o' yerself, yer great hulkin' brute." 

 At one time Bindle, who was well below medium height and average weight, had grinned appreciatively at this description; but it had a little lost its savour by repetition. 

 "Call yerself a man!" she continued, her sharp voice rising in volume and key.  "Leavin' me to keep the sticks together—me, a woman too, a-keepin' you in idleness! Why, I'd steal 'fore I'd do that, that I would." 

 She made vigorous use of the broom. Her anger invariably manifested itself in dust, a momentary forgetfulness of her religious convictions, and a lapse into the Doric. As a rule she was careful and mincing in her speech, but anger opened the flood-gates of her vocabulary, and words rushed forth bruised and decapitated. 

 With philosophic self-effacement Bindle covered the few feet between him and the door and vanished. He was a philosopher and, like Socrates, he bowed to the whirlwind of his wife's wrath. Conscious of having done everything humanly possible to obtain work, he faced the world with unruffled calm. 

 Mrs. Bindle's careless words, however, sank deeply into his mind. Steal! Well, he had no very strongly-grounded objection, provided he were not caught at it. Steal! The word seemed to open up new possibilities for him. The thing was, how should he begin? He might seize a leg of mutton from a butcher's shop and run; but then Nature had not 

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