Bindle: Some Chapters in the Life of Joseph Bindle Read online

  CHAPTER XI

  MR. HEARTY BECOMES EXTREMELY UNPOPULAR

  "'Earty may be all 'ymns an' whiskers," Bindle had said, "an' I 'ate'is 'oly look an' oily ways; but 'e sticks to his job an' works like ablackleg. It don't seem to give 'im no pleasure though. 'E don'toften smile, an' when 'e does it's as if 'e thought Gawd was a-goin' tocharge it up against 'im."

  Mr. Hearty was an excellent tradesman; he sold nothing that he had notbought himself, and Covent Garden knew no shrewder judge of what to buyand what not to buy, or, as Bindle phrased it:

  "'E's so used to lookin' for sin in the soul that 'e can see a rottenapple in the middle of a barrel without knockin' the top off. Yes,I'll give 'Earty 'is due. There ain't many as can knock spots off 'imas a greengrocer, though as far as bein' a man, I seen better thingsthan 'im come out o' cheese."

  On the Saturday morning after Bindle's visit to Dick Little, Mr. Heartywas busily engaged in superintending the arrangement of his Fulham HighStreet shop, giving an order here and a touch there, always withexcellent results.

  According to his wont he had returned from market before eight o'clock,breakfasted, hurried round to his other shop in the Wandsworth BridgeRoad, and before ten was back again at Fulham.

  He was occupied in putting the finishing touches to a honey-colouredpyramid of apples, each in its nest of pink paper like a setting hen,when an ill-favoured man entered leading an enormous dog, in which thesalient points of the mastiff, bull-terrier, and French poodlestruggled for expression. The man looked at a dirty piece of paper heheld in his hand.

  "Name of 'Earty?" he interrogated.

  "I am Mr. Hearty," was the reply, uttered in a voice that was intendedto suggest dignity with just a dash of Christian forbearance.

  "I brought your dawg," said the man with ingratiating geniality, baringthree dark-brown stumps that had once been teeth; "I brought yourdawg," he repeated, looking down at what appeared to be four enormouslegs loosely attached to a long, sinuous body.

  "You're mistaken," said Mr. Hearty. "It's not mine; I don't keep adog."

  "My mistake, guv'nor," replied the man with a grin; "I should 'a saidthe dawg wot you're a-lookin' for. 'Ere, Lily, drop it."

  This last remark was addressed to the dog, who, seeing Mr. Hearty'ssoft black felt hat lying on a box, had seized it in her enormous jaws.She looked up at her master and shook the hat roguishly with a gurgleof joy; but a sharp cuff on the muzzle caused her to drop what herteeth and saliva had already ruined.

  "This is just the dawg you're wantin'," continued the man pleasantly,indicating Lily, who had lain down and was now occupying the entirecentre of the shop, looking about her with distended jaws and a greatflap of whitey-red tongue hanging out amiably. "Playful as a kitten,and an 'ouse-dog as 'ud eat a burglar an' then go back to dawg-biscuitwivout a murmur. She's some dawg, is Lily!"

  "But I don't want a dog," replied Mr. Hearty, eyeing his hat, which theman was endeavouring to clean with his coat-sleeve. "Will you pleasetake it away?" There was a note of asperity in his voice.

  "Don't want a dawg? Don't want a dawg?" There was menace in the man'smanner that caused Mr. Hearty some anxiety, and he looked appealinglyat Smith, his chief assistant, and the boy, who stood regarding theepisode with an enjoyment they dare not express.

  "Don't want a dawg?" repeated the man for the third time. "You jestread this," thrusting out towards Mr. Hearty the dirty piece of paperhe held in his hand. "You jest read this an' you'll ruddy well seethat yer do want a dawg, an' this 'ere is the dawg yer want."

  Mr. Hearty mechanically took the piece of paper the man thrust towardshim. It was a cutting of an advertisement, which read:

  "DOG WANTED, breed not important, provided it is a large and goodhouse-dog. Not to cost more than L4. Apply personally with animal toAlfred Hearty, 530 Fulham High Street, S.W., on Saturday at 10.30 a.m."

  Mr. Hearty looked from the paper to Lily's owner in an uncomprehendingway and then back to the advertisement again.

  "The breed ain't important in Lily," remarked the man. "She's tookprizes as a mastiff, a French poodle, a bull-terrier, and a pom., andshe got hon'ble mention as a grey'ound once. She'll chaw up a man shedon't like, won't yer, Lily, old gal?"

  Lily looked up with a ridiculously amiable expression for a dogpossessed of such qualities.

  "But I don't want a dog," repeated Mr. Hearty, looking helplessly atSmith.

  "Then wot the grumblin' 'ereafter do yer put in this advertisementfor?" growled the man angrily.

  "But I didn't."

  "Is your name 'Earty?"

  "I am Mr. Hearty."

  "Then you want a dawg, an' Lily's your dawg, an' I want four pound.Now, 'and it over, guv'nor. I'm in a 'urry. I ain't a bloomin'non-stop."

  At that moment a middle-aged woman entered, followed by a very smallboy with a very large dog, as indeterminate as to pedigree as Lilyherself. The woman looked about her and approached Smith.

  "Mr. Hearty?" she almost whispered.

  Smith, a man of few words, jerked his thumb in the direction of hisemployer. The woman walked over to him. Meanwhile the new dog hadgrowled ominously at Lily, who, throwing out her forepaws anddepressing her head upon them, had playfully challenged it to a romp.

  "Mr. Hearty?" meekly enquired the woman.

  As she spoke a woman and two more men with other dogs entered the shop.These were quickly followed by another woman of aI-know-what-I-want-and-'Uggins-is-my-name-an'-I've-got-me-marriage-linesappearance. Following her came a mild-mannered man with yet anotherdog, larger and more bewildering in the matter of breed than Lily andthe other animal combined.

  "I want to see Mr. 'Earty," announced the third woman to Smith. Smithindicated Mr. Hearty in his usual manner by a jerk of the thumb.

  "I come in answer to the advertisement," she announced.

  "For a dawg?" enquired Lily's owner suspiciously.

  "For an 'ousekeeper," replied the woman aggressively. "Wot's that gotto do wi' you? You ain't Mr. 'Earty, are yer? You jest shut yer uglyface."

  The man subsided.

  The shop was now full. Lily and the second dog had decided to befriends, and had formed an alliance against the third dog. In theirgambols they had already upset a basket of apples.

  Whilst Mr. Hearty was endeavouring to convince Lily's owner that notonly did he not require a dog, but that as a matter of fact he had amarked antipathy for the whole species, other animals continued toarrive. They grouped themselves outside with their owners, togetherwith a nondescript collection of men, women, and boys, with and withoutdogs. All seemed inspired with the same ambition--to interview Mr.Hearty.

  Mr. Hearty looked at the sea of faces outside as an actor sufferingfrom stage-fright might gaze at the audience that had bereft him of thepower to speak or move. He felt that he must act promptly, evensternly; but he was not a brave man and saw that he was faced by acrowd of potential enemies. Summoning up all his courage he turned toLily's owner.

  "Kindly remove that dog," he ordered in what he meant to be a sternvoice, indicating Lily, who was playing a game of hide-and-seek roundan apple-barrel with a pomeranian-Irish-terrier.

  "'Oo are you talkin' to? Just answer me that," demanded Lily's owner.

  Mr. Hearty saw clearly that the man intended to be awkward, eveninsolent.

  "I am speaking to you, and unless you take that dog away, I--I----"Mr. Hearty stopped, wondering what he really would do. What ought heto do under such circumstances?

  "Why did yer advertise?" demanded the aggressive woman.

  "I didn't," replied Mr. Hearty miserably, turning to his new assailant."I have advertised for nothing."

  "Didn't yer advertise for a 'ousekeeper?" continued the woman.

  "No!"

  "Yer a blinkin' liar."

  At this uncompromising rejoinder Mr. Hearty started. He wasunaccustomed to such directness of speech.

  "Unless you are civil I shall order you out of my shop," retorted Mr.Hearty angr
ily.

  "An' if yer do I shan't go; see?" The woman placed her hands on herhips and looked at Mr. Hearty insultingly. "Look at 'im," shecontinued, addressing the crowd, "playin' 'is dirty jokes on porepeople. I paid eightpence return to get 'ere all the way from Brixton,then 'e says it's a joke."

  There was an ominous murmur from the others. All sorts of epithetswere hurled at Mr. Hearty.

  "Will yer pay our fares?"

  "I'll punch 'is bloomin' 'ead till it aches!"

  "Let me get at 'im!"

  "Yer dirty tyke!"

  "You goin' to buy my dawg?" demanded Lily's owner, thrusting his faceso close to Mr. Hearty's that their noses almost touched.

  "No, I'm not," shouted Mr. Hearty in desperation. "Smith, put this manand his dog out."

  Smith looked embarrassed and Lily's owner laughed outright, a sneering,insulting laugh, which his black stumps of teeth seemed to render moresinister and menacing.

  Mr. Hearty felt that the situation was passing beyond his control. Howhad it all happened and what did it mean? Events had followed upon oneanother so swiftly that he was bewildered. Where were the police?What did he pay rates and taxes for if he were to be subjected to this?What would be the end of it all? Would they kill him?

  Just as he saw himself being bruised and buffeted by a furious crowd, ashadow fell across the shop as a pantechnicon drew up outside. It wasone of three, and from the tail-board of the last Bindle slipped offand began forcing his way towards the shop entrance.

  "Now then," he called out cheerfully, "make way there. I'm the brothero' 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 hehailed his brother-in-law.

  "'Ullo, 'Earty; 'oldin' a levee? What-oh!"

  "'E wants a dawg," broke in the dog man, indicating Lily with a jerk ofhis 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 sideof Mr. Hearty, who was listening with anguished intentness to an eagergroup of women whose one desire seemed to caretake for him.

  Bindle looked round the shop with a puzzled expression, his eyesfinally resting on Lily.

  "Call that a dawg?" he enquired of Lily's owner with an incredulousgrin.

  "Yus, I do," replied the man aggressively. "What 'ud you call it? Arosy kitten?"

  "Well," remarked Bindle imperturbably, regarding Lily critically,"since you arsts me, I'd call it a bloomin' 'istory o' dawgs in onevolume."

  "Where'll yer 'ave the coal, guv'nor?" bawled a voice from the fringeof the crowd.

  At that moment Mrs. Hearty entered from the parlour behind the shop.She gazed about her in mild wonderment.

  "We don't want any coals, Alf. We had them in last week." Mrs. Heartysubsided into a chair. Suddenly her eyes fell upon Lily, who wastrying to shake off her head Mr. Hearty's hat, which someone had placedthere, and she collapsed, helpless with laughter.

  "'Ere, get out of it," cried Bindle, giving Lily a cuff, whereat sheyelped dismally. Providence had evidently intended her for doughtydeeds, having endowed her with the frame of an Amazon, but had thenlost interest and given her the heart of a craven.

  By dint of threats, badinage, and persuasion Bindle at last cleared theshop of all save Mr. and Mrs. Hearty, Smith, and the boy. Posting thestaff at the door with instructions to admit no one, Bindle approachedhis brother-in-law.

  "Wot jer been doin', 'Earty? The 'ole bloomin' street's full o' cartsand people wantin' to see yer. I brought three vans. What's it allabout?"

  Never had Mr. Hearty been so genuinely pleased to see Bindle. Beforehe had time to reply to his question, a big man pushed his way pastSmith and entered the shop.

  "Where'll yer 'ave the beer, guv'nor?" he shouted in a thick, heartyvoice redolent of the Trade.

  "'Ere, come out of the way," shouted a small wiry man who had followedhim in. "All this little lot goin'?" he asked, nodding in thedirection of the crowd that blocked the street. "I only got threebrakes, an' they won't take 'em all."

  "What's _your_ little game?" Bindle enquired of the newcomer.

  The brakeman eyed him with scornful contempt.

  "You Mr. 'Earty?" he enquired.

  "I'm 'is brother; 'e's been took ill. There's a mistake. You betterget 'ome."

  "Get 'ome!" shouted the man. "'Oo's goin' to pay?"

  "Try Lloyd George!" suggested Bindle cheerfully.

  A policeman pushed his way into the shop and Bindle slipped out. Thereal drama was being enacted outside. From all directions a steadystream of people was pouring towards Mr. Hearty's shop.

  "'Earty, 'Earty," murmured Bindle joyously to himself, as he surveyedthe High Street, "wot 'ave yer been an' done?"

  The place presented an extraordinary appearance.

  There were coal-carts, strings of them, brewers'-drays, laundry-carts,railway-vans, huge two-horse affairs, pantechnicons, char-a-bancs,large carts, small carts, and medium-sized carts. There were vehicleswith one, two, and three horses. There were motor-cars, motor-vans,motor-lorries, and motor-cycles. There were donkey-carts,spring-carts, push-carts, and pull-carts. Everything capable ofdelivering goods was represented, and all were locked together in ahopelessly congested mass.

  Everything had come to a standstill and the trams strove in vain toclang their way through the inextricable tangle.

  The footpaths were crowded with men, women, boys, and dogs, allendeavouring to reach Mr. Hearty's shop, the Mecca of their pilgrimage.Crowds overflowed the paths into the roadway and seemed to cementtogether the traffic.

  Bindle passed along the line intent on gleaning all the information hecould.

  "'Ave yer come after the job o' 'ousekeeper, nurse, or dawg?" he askedone seedy-looking man with an alarming growth of nose.

  "'Ow about my railway fare?"' enquired Lily's owner, recognisingBindle. "'Oo's goin' to pay it?"

  "You're a-goin' to pay it yerself, ole sport, unless you're goin' towalk." Then eyeing the man critically he added, "A little exercisemight ease yer figure a bit."

  Bindle pushed among the throng of disappointed applicants foremployment and deliverers of goods. Fate had been kind to him insending him this glorious jest.

  "Might 'a been foundin' a colony," he muttered, as he passed from groupto group; "'e ain't forgot nothink: plumbers, bricklayers, vans,'ousekeepers, dawgs, kids to adopt, 'orses, carpenters, caretakers,shovers; an' 'e's ordered everythink what ever growed or was made,_includin'_ beer, enough to keep the Guards drunk for a year. 'Earty'smad, pore chap. Religion do take some that way."

  At first Bindle had been puzzled to account for the throngs ofapplicants; but enquiry made things very clear. In every case theadvertisements--and they had appeared in every daily and innumerableweekly papers--stated the wages, which were unusually high. A vanmanwas offered fifty shillings a week, a housekeeper thirty shillings aweek all found; for an errand-boy fifteen shillings a week wassuggested, and ten pounds as a bonus to the parents of the child thatwas to be adopted.

  The officials at Putney Bridge station were puzzled to account for theextraordinary increase in the westward-bound traffic on that Saturdaymorning; but what particularly surprised them was the stream of dogsthat each train seemed to pour forth.

  The run upon dog-tickets at certain East-end stations broke allrecords, and three stationmasters had to telephone to headquarters fora further supply.

  Dogs occupied the gangways of every train arriving at Putney Bridgestation between 10 a.m. and 10.40 a.m. Dogs growled, fawned, andquarrelled.

  The stream of dogs, however, was as nothing to the stream of men, womenand boys, and small children for adoption. The station officials andthe bus-men outside wearied of instructing people how to get to FulhamHigh Street.

  The congestion of traffic in Fulham High Street was felt as far east asPiccadilly and the Strand, where the police on point duty were at aloss to acco
unt for it. The disorganisation in the tram service was inevidence equally at Wood Green and Wandsworth.

  Certain elements in the crowd, notably the younger and morelight-hearted sections, in particular those who lived in theneighbourhood and were not out of pocket for railway fares, wereinclined to regard the whole affair as a huge joke, and badinage flowedfreely. There was, however, another section that thirsted forsomebody's blood, and was inclined to regard Mr. Hearty as the personmost suitable to supply this.

  In the immediate vicinity of the shop-door the excitement was intense,everyone pushing and striving to get nearer. There was no suggestionof personal feeling save in the case of those who were bent on the sameerrand. Thus a potential housekeeper felt nothing but friendliness fora would-be dog-seller, whilst a hopeful housemaid was capable ofexperiencing almost an affection for a mother who had a spare offspringshe was wishful of having adopted.

  When the first brewers' dray drew up it was greeted with cheers, andone man who drove up in a donkey-cart with a flashily-dressed youngwoman was greeted with the inevitable:

  "Who's your lady friend? I am surprised at you, It isn't the one I saw you with at 'Ampstead,"

  sung by a score of robust voices.

  Cries, cat-calls, and advice to those inside to "save a drop foruncle," and "'urry up," were continuous. Many crude jokes werelevelled at Mr. Hearty's name.

  When the helmets of the police were seen bobbing their way through thecrowd there were prolonged cheers.

  The first policeman to arrive, having foreseen the possibility oftrouble, had promptly telephoned for assistance. At the time thereinforcements arrived, including an inspector and two mountedconstables, the attitude of the crowd was beginning to assume an uglylook. One of the more aggressive spirits had endeavoured to single outMr. Hearty as a target for one of his own potatoes; but he had,unfortunately for him, hit the policeman, whose action had been soswift and uncompromising that there was no further attempt at disorder.

  The inspector quickly saw that very little that was coherent could beobtained from Mr. Hearty. It was Bindle who supplied the details ofwhat had occurred.

  "'Earty's me brother-in-law," he replied. "'E's either gone off 'isonion or someone's been pullin' 'is leg. All this 'ere little lot,"and Bindle indicated the congested High Street, "'as brought 'im thingsthey says 'e's ordered, and 'e says 'e ain't, an' them crowds of men,women, and dogs and kids 'as come sayin' he wants to give 'em jobs or'omes."

  The inspector asked a few questions, and gleaned sufficient informationto convince him that this was a huge practical joke, and that promptaction was imperative. He telephoned for more men and set to work inan endeavour to organise the traffic and reduce it to manageableproportions.

  Constables were placed at different points along the main thoroughfareleading to Fulham High Street, asking all drivers and chauffeurs ifthey were bound for Mr. Alfred Hearty's shop in Fulham High Street, andif so sending them back. Men were stationed at Hammersmith and PutneyHigh Street to divert the streams of traffic that still poured towardsFulham.

  Putney and Fulham had never seen anything like it. Families wentdinnerless because housewives either could not get to the shops, orcould not get away from them again. Telephones rang, and iratehousekeepers enquired when the materials for lunch were coming.Taxicab drivers with fares sat stolidly at the wheel, conscious thattheir income was increasing automatically, whilst the fares themselvesfumed and fussed as they saw their twopences vanish.

  It was not until past one o'clock that the trams restarted, and it was2.30 before Bindle got back to the yard with his three pantechnicons.

  "Poor ole 'Earty's got it in the neck this time," he muttered as heturned back towards Fulham High Street to lend a hand in putting thingsstraight. Mr. Hearty was distracted at the thought that none of hiscustomers had received their fruit and vegetables, and Bindle wasgenuinely sorry for him. All that afternoon and late into the night heworked, helping to weigh up and deliver orders; and when he eventuallyleft the shop at a few minutes before midnight, he was "as tired as aperformin' flea."

  "I like 'Earty when 'e goes mad," he muttered to himself as he left theshop. "It sort o' wakes up sleepy old Fulham. I wonder 'oo it was.Shouldn't be surprised if I could spot 'im. If it ain't Mr. DickLittle call me Jack Johnson. I wish 'e 'adn't done it, though."

  Bindle was thinking of the pathetic figure Mr. Hearty had cut, and ofthe feverish manner in which he had worked to make up for the losthours, Bindle had been genuinely touched when, as he was about to leavethe shop, his brother-in-law had shaken him warmly by the hand and, inan unsteady voice, thanked him for his help. Then looking round as ifsearching for something, he had suddenly seized the largest pineapplefrom the brass rail in the window, thrust it upon the astonishedBindle, and fled into the back room.

  For some seconds Bindle had stood looking from the fruit to the doorthrough which his brother-in-law had disappeared, then, replacing it onthe rack, he had quietly left the shop, muttering: "It takes a longtime to get to know even yer own relations. Queer ole card, 'Earty."