Bindle's lips, she caught him by the hand and dashed off. After a moment's hesitation Bindle entered into her mood and the pair tore up Fulham High Street, Millie running obliquely in front, striving to urge Bindle to a greater pace.
Just as they reached the Heartys' private door, Mr. Hearty himself emerged on his way to post a letter. Millie running sideways did not see him. Bindle was unable to avoid the inevitable collision, and Millie's elbow took her father dead in the centre of his waistcoat and drove the breath out of his body.
"Oh, father!" cried his horrified daughter.
"Millie!" gasped Mr. Hearty when he had regained sufficient breath for speech.
"My fault, 'Earty. I likes a run now and again; we was 'avin' a bit of a race. Millikins beats me in the matter o' legs."
To Mr. Hearty women had limbs, not legs, and he disliked intensely Bindle's reference to those of his daughter.
"I hope this will not occur again," he said severely. "I shall have to stop these—these" Unable to find the word, Mr. Hearty passed on to the pillar-box.
Millie stood watching him, horror in her eyes.
"Oh, Uncle Joe, am I a very bad girl? Father always makes me feel so wicked."
"'E'd make an 'oly saint feel a bit of a rip. You're just about as bad as a first-class angel; but p'raps it 'ud be better not to 'old sports
