forced-draught, practising carols. That had given Mrs. Bindle the idea of devoting her evening entirely to seasonable music. "Wot jer call me for?" demanded Bindle presently, remembering the reason of his presence. "Don't forget to get a pail of coals and put it in the kitchen," she ordered. "We shan't want no coals, Mrs. B., with all that 'ot stuff we got a-comin'," he muttered lugubriously. "Why ain't we got a bit o' mistletoe?" he demanded. "Don't be disgusting," she retorted. "Disgustin'!" he cried innocently. "There ain't nothink disgustin' in a bit o' mistletoe." "I won't have such things in my house," she announced with decision. "You've got a lewd mind." "There ain't nothink lood in kissin' a gal under the mistletoe," he demurred, "or under anythink else," he added as an after-thought. "You're nasty-minded, Bindle, and you know it." "Well, wot are we goin' to do at a party if there ain't goin' to be no kissin'?" he persisted, looking about him with unwonted despondency. "Mr. Hearty has lent us his harmonium!" she said with unction, gazing reverently across at the[Pg 64] instrument, which was the pride of her brother-in-law's heart. [Pg 64] "But wot's the use of an 'armonium," he complained. "You can't play 'unt the slipper, or postman's knock with an 'armonium." "We're going to sing." "Wot, 'ymns?" he groaned. "No, carols," was the retort. "It's Christmas," she added as if by way of explanation. "Well, it don't look like it, and it don't smell like it." He sniffed the atmosphere with obvious disgust. "Puts me in mind of 'orse-oils," he added. "That's right, go on," she retorted tartly. "You're not hurting me, if you think it." She drew in her lips and crossed her hands in front of her, with Mrs. Bindle a manifestation of Christian resignation. "I don't want to 'urt you, Lizzie; but I ask you, can you see me a-singin' carols?" He turned towards her a
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