Chapter 8
chapter eight of bindle by herbert jenkins this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins chapter eight the great conspiracy one at harridge's stores bindle had made himself very popular with the manager of the furniture removing department his cheery outlook on life his racy speech and general trustworthiness resulted in his being frequently entrusted with special jobs where reliability was required when the order was received to supply the refreshments for the barton bridge temperance fete bindle was selected to go down to erect the marquis and stalls and be generally responsible for the safe transit of the eatables and drinkables yer can always trust me with lemonade and religion he had assured the manager i don't touch neither they sort of goes to me ed the barton bridge temperance society had determined to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of its foundation in a manner that should attract to it the attention of the temperance world after much deliberation and heart-burning an english rustic fate had been decided upon the whole of the surrounding country had been put under contribution and every one had responded either with generosity or with scorn
old sir bilder of bilder's end tyre had replied with ponderous humour that he would supply all the ale required when he received a request for three grosses of pint bottles of a particular kind of temperance ale he had been surprised well i'm damned was his comment but being a sportsman he had sent the ale which he regarded as a fair price for a good story barton bridge was proud of its temperance society but prouder still of its breadth of mind it had been a tradition for a quarter of a century that the society should be non-sectarian it is nothing to the discredit of barton bridge that the temperance society was the only thing in the place that had not been warped from its orbit by sect for a churchman to be discovered eating bread of mr lacy's baking mr lacy being a nonconformist would have meant social ostracism he must by virtue of his beliefs masticate none but bread kneaded and baked by mr carter the church baker a one-time vicar had sought to demolish this ridiculous wall of prejudice by dealing alternately with church and chapel tradesmen there had been no protest from the chapel people but the indignation of the church tradesmen had been so great and their absence from service so persistent
that the vicar had been forced to give way tolerance was an acquired habit rather than an instinctive virtue in barton bridge and the temperance meetings were solemn minglings of bodies accompanied by a warring of souls a witty frenchman has said that in order to preserve the purity of his home life the englishman invented the continental excursion it is a cynicism but at least it shows how dear tradition is to the englishman's heart it was this same spirit of tradition that raised above the strife of sect the barton bridge temperance society the question of the doctor was another instance of the effect of tradition upon what at first glance might appear to be a grave problem there was not room for two doctors at barton bridge and no doctor could reasonably be expected to be by a religionist it therefore became the accepted thing that the barton bridge doctor should attend neither church nor chapel but it was incumbent upon him to become a member of the temperance society the catering for the temperance fete had at first presented a serious difficulty and at one time had even threatened to divide the camp the church party recoiled in horror from the thought of eating nonconformist sandwiches
whilst if the lemonade were of church manufacture it would mean that scores of dissenters would have a thirsty afternoon the problem had been solved by lady knob kerrick who insisted that the order should be placed with a london firm of caterers which as a limited company could not be expected to have religious convictions thus it was that the order went to harridge's stores two by eight o'clock on the morning of the fete a pantechnicon was lumbering its ungainly way along the portsmouth road bindle sat meditatively on the tail-board smoking and obviously bored with the wholesome contempt of an incorrigible cockney he contemplated the landscape edges trees and fields and a mile to walk for a drink not me he muttered relighting his pipe with solemn gravity as the pantechnicon rumbled its ponderous way through hamlet and village bindle lightly tossed a few pleasantries to the rustics who stood aside to gaze at what to them constituted an incident in the day's monotony of motor-cars and dust the morning advanced and bindle grew more direct in his criticisms on and contempt for the bucolic life at last out of sheer loneliness he climbed up beside the driver
how d'yer like to live here old son he inquired pleasantly as they approached a tiny hamlet where a woman a child and some ducks and chickens seemed to be the only living inhabitants all right with a bit o land responded the driver looking about him appreciatively bindle gazed at his colleague curiously then feeling that they had nothing in common regarding the countryside continued funny thing you and me comin to a temperance fate then regarding the driver's face critically he proceeded ope you've got your vanity case wi yer you'll want to powder that nose o yours fore the ladies come course it's indigestion only they mightn't believe it the driver grunted fancy continued bindle having to all about chairs and make up tables a day like this and on lemonade too can't yer see it mate in glass bottles wi lemons stuck in the tops and no froth the driver grumbled in his throat the start had been an early one and he was dry despite several ineffectual attempts to allay his thirst at wayside inns it was nearly eleven o'clock before a sprinkling of houses warned them that they were approaching barton bridge
soon the pantechnicon was awaking echoes in the drowsy old high street half-way along what is practically the only thoroughfare stands the pack-horse outside which the driver instinctively pulled up and he and bindle clambered down and entered ostensibly to inquire the way to the fete ground behind the bar stood mr cutts wearing the inevitable red knitted cap without which no one had ever seen him during business hours he was engaged in conversation with dick little the doctor's son and by common consent the black sheep of barton bridge the subject of their talk was temperance he showed no particular inclination to come forward and bindle was extremely thirsty after regarding the red cap for a moment bindle approached the landlord no offence your oliness sorry to be a noosance but can yer tell me where the temperance fate is to be eld me an my mate as delegates come all the way from london no your oliness is wrong it's indigestion that nose of is always takes a lot of explainin mr cutts flushed a deep purple at the reference to his cap he wore it to hide his baldness and was extremely sensitive dick little laughed outright it was he who answered bindle half a mile up and down the avenue of poplars
do yer ear mate bindle turned to the driver do yer know a poplar when yer see it same for me the last remark referred to the driver's order for a pint of ale after finishing his draught the driver went out to see to the watering of his horses whilst mr cutts having cast at bindle a look which he conceived to be of withering scorn retired to his parlour seem to avert old bung's feelings bindle remarked genially to dick little you said you were going to the temperance fete yes we're carrying along the buns sandwiches cakes and lemonade likewise tents and things like a drink inquired little well grinned bindle judicially as he surveyed his empty glass it would lay the dust a bit provided he added with mock gravity it ain't a split soda never could de jest split sodas where's his oliness he inquired looking round never mind him responded little taking a flask from his pocket wash the glass out bindle did so and threw the water in a delicate line upon the floor little emptied the greater part of the contents of the flask into the glass held before him
with a happy look in his eyes bindle took a short drink tasted the liquid critically looked at little then with a puzzled expression emptied the glass at the second attempt whatcher call it sir it's new to me he remarked as he replaced his glass upon the counter it hasn't got a name yet i make it myself it's not bad eh it beats all i've ever tasted sir it ain't for sucking babes though pretty strong yes you said you had lemonade for the temperance fate in there didn't you inquired little well not exactly sir it's got to be watered down see there'll be about fifty gallons sides bottled stuff are you open to earn a sovereign asked little well sir it's funny you should arse that just fore i came away from home this morning my missus told me the income tax paper had come in that old lloyd george is fairly messing up my estates yes i don't mind if i do At this moment the driver put his head in at the door and muttered something about getting on.
Orf a mo, old son, responded Bindle, then turning to Little added with a grin. What makes it a rule never to keep me orses waitin', mister? The coachman gets so cross. When Mr. Cutts returned to the bar, he saw Dick Little in deep conversation with Bindle, which surprised him. He saw Bindle's face irradiating joy and heard him remark, Old me, somebody, old me, I say. You just leave it to me, sir.
Presently they both went out. A moment later the Pantechnicon rumbled off, leaving Mr. Cutts still wondering. The Pantechnicon lumbered on towards the meadow adjoining Carrick Castle, which had been placed at the disposal of the Committee of the Temperance Society by its owner. On the tailboard sat Bindle, a metamorphosed Bindle. All the morning's gloom had vanished from his features, giving place to a joy not entirely due to the partial quenching of a
persistent thirst. Dick Little walked slowly home to an early lunch. He had many old scores to settle with Barton Bridge, and he realized that there was an excellent chance of a balance being struck that afternoon. His one anxiety was lest his father should be involved. Between Dr. Little and his two sons, Dick and Tom, there was little in common save a great bond of affection. Dr. Little was serious-minded, inclined to be fussy, but of a generous nature and a genial
disposition that gained for him the regard of all his patients. His son Dick was a rollicking dandy, an inveterate practical joker, and the leader of every mischievous escapade at St. Timothy's Hospital, known as Tim's, where he enjoyed an all-round popularity. 3. By half-past one o'clock everything was ready for the temperance fate. The large marquee had been erected, the chairs and tables had been dotted about the meadow. Rustic stalls, gay with
greenery and bunting, invited the visitor to refresh himself. In the center of a roped-off space stood a gaily beribboned maypole. A coconut shy, a punch-and-judy show, and the old English game of Aunt Sally were some of the diversions provided. There was also to be Morris dancing, the dancers having been trained by Miss Slocum, the vicar's daughter, aided for reasons of policy rather than individual prowess, by Miss McPhee, the sister of the congregational minister.
The girl attendants, in their gaily-coloured dresses and sunbonnets, and the men in smock frocks and large straw hats, added picturesqueness to the scene. Bindle's activity had been prodigious. With the ease of a man who was thoroughly conversant with his subject, he had taken charge of the drink department. The lemonade had been distributed to the various stalls, and the right amount of water added according to the directions upon
each cask. Every drop of water had been fetched under the supervision of Bindle himself. On arriving at the Fate-ground, Bindle had gone direct to a corner of the meadow, and brought forth half a dozen stone jars, each capable of holding about two gallons. The contents of these he had carefully poured into the casks, containing the nucleus of the lemonade. These same jars had been subsequently used for fetching water, with which to weaken
the lemonade. Finally they had been stowed away in the far end of the Pantechnicon. Bindle stood out in strong relief from the other workers, both on account of his costume and personality. He wore the green baize apron of his class. On his head was the inevitable cricket cap. His face had taken on the same hue as his nose, and the smile that irradiated his features transcended in its joyous abandon the smiles of all the others. For everyone he had a merry word.
In the short space of two hours he had achieved an astonishing popularity. By three o'clock the fate was in full swing. Every stable in Barton Bridge was full, and the high street presented a curious appearance with its rows of horseless carriages, carts, and traps. The coach houses and available sheds had all been utilized to give shelter to the scores of horses. The members of the committee, wearing big dark blue rosettes, smiled largely
their satisfaction. They knew that reporters were present from the Blue Ribbon News and the pure water world. Bindle had entered into the spirit of the revelry in a way that attracted him to the attention of many members of the organizing committee. An extremely drawl fellow, quite a valuable addition to our attendance, the vicar remarked to the Reverend Andrew McPhee, the young congregational pastor as they stood surveying the scene an admirable man mr shlocum the cautious scot had replied i have no wish to be uncharitable but i meestrust his nose
entirely unconscious that he was a subject of conversation between the two shepherds of barton bridge pendle was standing behind a refreshment stall that he had appropriated to himself surrounded by an amused crowd of revelers he was discoursing upon the virtues of lemonade upon a hot day give er a drink sir he called to one sheepish-looking rustic who stood grasping in his the hand of a lumpy red-faced girl give er a drink sir do or she'll faint er tongue's almost hanging out as it is be a sport no miss it's no use you're looking at me my wife won't let me as they took their first sip of the much-praised lemonade many looked wonderingly at bindle there was about it an unaccustomed something that they could not quite analyze or describe whatever it was it was pleasant to the taste and it gave them courage eyes that had previously been sheepish became merry almost bold the prospect of joy seemed nearer the fame of the lemonade soon spread the fringes about the stalls deepened the air became bright with shouts and laughter a spirit of wild revelry was abroad the cocornut shy was the centre of an uproarious throng
balls were bought and flung with such wildness that none dared replace the cocher nuts that had been knocked off or to fetch what by rights was his own property mr slocum and mr macfie strolled round the grounds sedately benign they the representatives of a higher power must of necessity keep aloof from such pleasures even temperance pleasures still they were glad to see about them evidences of such simple and wholesome gaiety with measured steps they approached a considerable group of young people who were laughing and shouting boisterously when within about twenty yards of the crowd it suddenly opened out it's a race sir shouted some one and they smilingly stood aside to see the sport a moment after their smiles froze upon their faces and gave place to a look of wonder and horror it was indeed a race but such a race coming towards them were five youths each bearing pick-a-back fashion a girl there was an exhibition of feminine frilleries that caused the reverend gentleman to gasp to look at each other quickly and then turn hurriedly aside when just opposite to where they stood one couple came to the ground and the pair following immediately behind fell over the others
mr mcfee blushed and mr slocum remembering his companion's youth gripped him by the arm and hurried him away with a muttered dreadful dreadful no other word was spoken until they reached the refreshment stall over which bindle presided and then the vicar once more murmured dreadful have you any tea inquired mr mcfee more from a desire to say something than a feeling of thirst no sir responded bindle tea's over there sir try the lemonade sir it's a one it'll pull you together sir do try it sir bindle added eagerly you look aught and tired sir it'll do your good the two pastors looked curiously at bindle but accepted each without comment a glass of lemonade they put it to their lips tasted it looked at each other and then drank greedily another sir inquired bindle of the vicar when he had finished his glass er no murmured mr slocum but bindle had already refilled his glass and was doing a like service for mr mcfee when they left the stall it was arm-in-arm and mr mcfee directed his steps to the spot where a few minutes previously he had received so severe a shock but the sport was over and the crowd had dispersed chapter eight read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark blogspot dot com
