Page:Herbert Jenkins - Bindle.djvu/284

 "It's all right, miss," whispered Bindle; "I'll catch hold of one arm and Mr. Little will do ditto with the other, and 'fore you can wink you'll be over. You ain't the screamin' sort, are yer?" he enquired anxiously.

A little laugh answered him.

"Now then, look slippy, in case the old gal—sorry, miss, yer mother—smells a rat."

It was a hot, soundless night. The atmosphere hung round them like a heavy garment saturated with moisture. Every sound seemed to be magnified. As he finished speaking, Bindle's quick ear detected a footstep inside the garden. Bending down he whispered to Guggers:

"Start the car, sir, there's someone comin'. Come along, miss," he added.

"Ethel!" Three hearts gave a great leap at the sound of a harsh, uncompromising voice from almost beneath them.

"Ethel, where are you? You will catch your death of cold walking about the garden at this time of night. Come in at once!"

It was Lady Knob-Kerrick. There was no mistaking her disapproving voice. Bindle grinned as he recollected the inglorious figure she had cut at the Temperance Fête.

"Ethel, where are you?" The voice cut sharply through the still air.

"Steady, sir," whispered Bindle to Dick Little, who had lifted Miss Kerrick off the wall.