Gandy reappeared. He had made up his mind.
Bindle's mind was working busily. He was obviously in possession of a secret that other people thought worth paying for. As he walked down the village street he pondered deeply. He paused and slapped his green baize apron-covered leg. He walked over to where Mrs. Grinder was standing at the door of her little general shop. A remark of Mr. Gaudy's had set him thinking.
"Mornin', mother," he called out in salutation.
"Good-morning," responded Mrs. Grinder with a smile.
"'Oo's the biggest bug 'ere?"
"The what?"
"The swells; them as grind you an' me down an' make us un'appy," Bindle explained.
"There's Sir Charles Custance at The Towers, up on the left where the poplars are, and Mr. Greenhales at the Home Farm, and"
"That's enough. I'm stayin' in this neighbour'ood, and if I wasn't to call on the nobs they might be 'urt in their private feelin's. Glad to see yer lookin' so merry an' bright. Mornin'." And cap in hand, Bindle made an elaborate bow and passed on his way, leaving the buxom Mrs. Grinder wreathed in smiles.
Half an hour later he walked down the drive of The Towers, the residence of Sir Charles Custance, J. P., a sovereign richer than when he entered.
