Bindle Part 12
"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.
"I pays for dressin'," he observed. "The cigar was me own idea. It gives a sort o' finish, eh, Millikins?"
They walked past the Fulham Grand Theatre, and at the Cinema Palace on the Fulham side of the bridge Bindle paused.
"Not this one, the one over the bridge," Millie cried anxiously.
"Further to walk for yer ole uncle."
"But-but-" faltered Millie, "Charlie Chaplin's at the other and I do so want to see him."
"Charlie Chaplin's 'ere too, Millikins. Look, it says so."
"Oh, uncle, please, please, the other one." There were tears in Millie's eyes and her voice shook.
Bindle was puzzled, but to please her he would have walked over many bridges.
"Uncle, you are good," was all she said as she smiled at him happily.
They pa.s.sed over the bridge in silence, watching the stream of trams, buses, and people. When with Millie, Bindle never ventured upon those little personalities in which he indulged when alone.
"Do yer like chapel, Millikins?" Bindle enquired suddenly.
"I hate it, Uncle Joe!" There was such feeling and decision in Millie's voice that Bindle turned and regarded her curiously.
"Why?"
"I want to be happy, oh! I do so want to be happy, Uncle Joe." There was almost a sob in Millie's voice and her eyes were moist with unshed tears.
Bindle said nothing, but he pondered deeply as they walked slowly along. When they saw the brilliant lights of the Putney Pavilion Millie visibly brightened.
As they entered Millie looked eagerly round, and a sigh of contentment escaped her as her eyes rested on a tall, pale-faced youth who stood smoking a cigarette. He raised his hat about an inch from his head, squaring his elbow in the process as if saluting. The action was awkward and sheepish.
Bindle looked from the young man to Millie, then remembering Millie's distress at his suggestion of going to the other cinema, light dawned upon him. With elaborate courtesy, and to the youth's obvious astonishment, he returned the salute, then walking across seized his hand and shook it effusively.
"Millikins, this is a young man I used to know, but 'ave forgotten. 'E remembers me, 'owever, and that's all that matters. This is me niece Millie," he added to the youth who, staring in utter bewilderment from Bindle to Millie, stood with downcast head.
"Goin' in to see the pictures?" Bindle enquired casually.
"Er-no-er-yes, of course," stuttered the youth.
"Nice evenin' for pictures," continued Bindle, thoroughly enjoying the situation. "Don't yer think so?" he added, as the youth did not reply.
"Yes, very."
"Now you an' me's ole pals, but I've quite forgot yer name. Is it 'Orace?"
"Dixon, Charlie Dixon." A faint smile flickered across the young man's face as he caught Millie's eye. He was beginning to realise that somewhere in this astonishing adventure there was fun, and that Bindle had been first to see it.
For some seconds Bindle, who was a shrewd judge of character, regarded the young man. He was obviously nervous, but his grey eyes looked out honestly from a rather pleasant face into those of Bindle.
Suddenly he laughed. Millie looked from one to the other, her pretty brows puckered. The situation was obviously beyond her.
"Uncle, I want to speak to you, please." Millie's voice was scarcely audible.
"All right, my dear, we'll go and buy the tickets. You wait here, young feller," he added. "We'll be back in two ticks."
When out of earshot Millie whispered shyly, "That's Charlie Dixon, and we-we like each other, and I'm-I'm a wicked girl, Uncle Joe. I told him to be here and--"
"That's all right, Millikins, don't you worry."
Millie gave his arm an ecstatic squeeze as he left her to purchase the tickets.
When Bindle and his niece rejoined Charlie Dixon Bindle's mind was made up. He liked the look of the young man. He also remembered his own youth, and a glance at the happy face of his niece decided him upon his course of action.
"'Ow long 'ave yer known each other?" he enquired.
"More than six months," replied Charlie Dixon.
"Seems a lifetime, eh?" he grinned.
"I knew you'd understand, dear Uncle Joe," whispered the now radiant Millie.
"Look 'ere," said Bindle to Charlie Dixon, "I jest remembered I got to see a mate round the corner. You two go in wi' these tickets and I'll follow in ten minutes. If I misses yer, be 'ere in this 'all at ten sharp. See?"
They both saw, and exchanged rapturous glances.
"Mind, ten sharp, or I'll get the sack."
"Thank you, Mr. Bindle," said Charlie Dixon, raising his hat, to which Bindle responded with an elaborate sweep that brought a smile to the face of the attendant.
Just before turning into Putney High Street Bindle looked round to see Millie and Charlie Dixon in earnest converse, walking slowly towards the door leading in to the pictures-and bliss.