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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5963-h.zip b/5963-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7243750 --- /dev/null +++ b/5963-h.zip diff --git a/5963-h/5963-h.htm b/5963-h/5963-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..78c3206 --- /dev/null +++ b/5963-h/5963-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11770 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Mr. Bingle, by George Barr Mccutcheon + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Bingle, by George Barr McCutcheon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mr. Bingle + +Author: George Barr McCutcheon + +Illustrator: James Montgomery Flagg + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5963] +First Posted: October 1, 2002 +Last Updated: May 10, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. BINGLE *** + + + + +Etext produced by Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MR. BINGLE + </h1> + <h2> + By George Barr McCutcheon + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I — THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II — RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III — THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV — FORTY MINUTES LATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V — THE STORY OF JOSEPH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI — THE HONOURABLE THOMAS + SINGLETON BINGLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII — SEARCHERS REWARDED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII — THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX — THE MAN CALLED HINMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X — MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING + AN ANGEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI — A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII — THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII — TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV — THE LAW'S LAST WORD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV — DECEMBER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI — ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII — THE LAST TO ARRIVE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I — THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES + </h2> + <p> + A coal fire crackled cheerily in the little open grate that supplied + warmth to the steam-heated living-room in the modest apartment of Mr. + Thomas S. Bingle, lower New York, somewhere to the west of Fifth Avenue + and not far removed from Washington Square—in the wrong direction, + however, if one must be precise in the matter of emphasizing the social + independence of the Bingle family—and be it here recorded that + without the genial aid of that grate of coals the living-room would have + been a cheerless place indeed. Mr. Bingle had spent most of the evening in + trying to coax heat from the lower regions into the pipes of the seventh + heaven wherein he dwelt, and without the slightest sign of success. The + frigid coils in the corner of the room remained obdurate. If they + indicated the slightest symptom of warmth during the evening, it was due + entirely to the expansive generosity of the humble grate and not because + they were moved by inward remorse. They were able, however, to supply the + odour of far-off steam, as of an abandoned laundry; and sometimes they + chortled meanly, revealing signs of an energy that in anything but a steam + pipe might have been mistaken for a promise to do better. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle poked the fire and looked at his watch. Then he crossed to the + window, drew the curtains and shade aside and tried to peer through the + frosty panes into the street, seven stories below. A holly wreath hung + suspended in the window, completely obscured from view on one side by hoar + frost, on the other by a lemon-coloured window shade that had to be + handled with patience out of respect for a lapsed spring at the top. He + scraped a peep-hole in the frosty surface, and, after drying his fingers + on his smoking jacket, looked downward with eyes a-squint. + </p> + <p> + "Do sit down, Tom," said his wife from her chair by the fireplace. "A + watched pot never boils. You can't see them from the window, in any + event." + </p> + <p> + "I can see the car when it stops at the corner, my dear," said Mr. Bingle, + enlarging the peep-hole with a vigour that appeared to be aggravated by + advice. "Melissa said seven o'clock and it is four minutes after now." + </p> + <p> + "You forget that Melissa didn't start until after she had cleared away the + dinner things. She—" + </p> + <p> + "I know, I know," he interrupted, still peering. "But that was an hour + ago, Mary. I think a car is stopping at the corner now. No! It didn't + stop, so there must have been some one waiting to get on instead of off." + </p> + <p> + "Do come and sit down. You are as fidgety as a child." + </p> + <p> + "Dear me," said Mr. Bingle, turning away from the window with a shiver, + "how I pity the poor unfortunates who haven't a warm fire to sit beside + tonight. It is going to be the coldest night in twenty years, according to + the—there! Did you hear that?" He stepped to the window once more. + The double ring of a street-car bell had reached his ears, and he knew + that a car had stopped at the corner below. "According to the weather + report this afternoon," he concluded, re-crossing the room to sit down + beside the fire, very erect and expectant, a smile on his pinched, eager + face. He was watching the hall door. + </p> + <p> + It was Christmas Eve. There were signs of the season in every corner of + the plain but cosy little sitting-room. Mistletoe hung from the + chandelier; gay bunting and strands of gold and silver tinsel draped the + bookcase and the writing desk; holly and myrtle covered the wall brackets, + and red tissue paper shaded all of the electric light globes; big candles + and little candles flickered on the mantelpiece, and some were red and + some were white and yet others were green and blue with the paint that Mr. + Bingle had applied with earnest though artless disregard for subsequent + odours; packages done up in white and tied with red ribbon, neatly + double-bowed, formed a significant centrepiece for the ornate mahogany + library table—and one who did not know the Bingles would have looked + about in quest of small fry with popping, covetous eyes and sleekly + brushed hair. The alluring scent of gaudily painted toys pervaded the + Christmas atmosphere, quite offsetting the hint of steam from more + fortunate depths, and one could sniff the odour of freshly buttered + pop-corn. All these signs spoke of children and the proximity of Kris + Kringle, and yet there were no little Bingles, nor had there ever been so + much as one! + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were childless. The tragedy of life for them lay not + in the loss of a first-born, but in the fact that no babe had ever come to + fill their hungry hearts with the food they most desired and craved. Nor + was there any promise of subsequent concessions in their behalf. For + fifteen years they had longed for the boon that was denied them, and to + the end of their simple, kindly days they probably would go on longing. + Poor as they were, neither would have complained if fate had given them + half-a-dozen healthy mouths to feed, as many wriggling bodies to clothe, + and all the splendid worries that go with colic, croup, measles, mumps, + broken arms and all the other ailments, peculiar, not so much to childhood + as they are paramount to parenthood. + </p> + <p> + Lonely, incomplete lives they led, with no bitterness in their souls, + loving each other the more as they tried to fill the void with songs of + resignation. Away back in the early days Mr. Bingle had said that + Christmas was a bleak thing without children to lift the pall—or + something of the sort. + </p> + <p> + Out of that well-worn conclusion—oft expressed by rich and poor + alike—grew the Bingle Foundation, so to speak. No Christmas Eve was + allowed to go by without the presence of alien offspring about their + fire-lit hearth, and no strange little kiddie ever left for his own bed + without treasuring in his soul the belief that he had seen Santa Claus at + last—had been kissed by him, too—albeit the plain-faced, + wistful little man with the funny bald-spot was in no sense up to the + preconceived opinions of what the roly—poly, white-whiskered, + red-cheeked annual visitor from Lapland ought to be in order to make + dreams come true. + </p> + <p> + The Bingles were singularly nephewless, nieceless, cousinless. There was + no kindly-disposed relative to whom they could look for the loan of a few + children on Christmas Eve, nor would their own sensitiveness permit them + to approach neighbours or friends in the building with a well-meant + request that might have met with a chilly rebuff. One really cannot go + about borrowing children from people on the floor below and the floor + above, especially on Christmas Eve when children are so much in demand, + even in the most fortunate of families. It is quite a different matter at + any other time of the year. One can always borrow a whole family of + children when the mother happens to feel the call of the matinee or the + woman's club, and it is not an uncommon thing to secure them for a whole + day in mid-December. But on Christmas Eve, never! And so Mr. and Mrs. + Bingle, being without the natural comforts of home, were obliged to go out + into the world searching for children who had an even greater grudge + against circumstances. They frequently found their guests of honour in + places where dishonour had left them, and they gave them a merry Christmas + with no questions asked. + </p> + <p> + The past two Christmas Eves had found them rather providentially supplied + with children about whom no questions had ever been asked: the progeny of + a Mr. and Mrs. Sykes. Mr. Sykes being dead, the care and support of five + lusty youngsters fell upon the devoted but far from rugged shoulders of a + mother who worked as a saleswoman in one of the big Sixth Avenue shops, + and who toiled far into the night before Christmas in order that forgetful + people might be able to remember without fail on the morning thereafter. + She was only too glad to lend her family to Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. More than + that, she was ineffably glad, on her own account, that it was Christmas + Eve; it signified the close of a diabolical season of torture at the hands + of a public that believes firmly in "peace on earth" but hasn't the + faintest conception of what "good will toward men" means when it comes to + shopping at Christmas-time. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sykes' sister Melissa had been maid-of-all-work in the modest + establishment of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle for a matter of three years and a + half. It was she who suggested the Sykes family as a happy solution to the + annual problem, and Mr. Bingle almost hugged her for being so thoroughly + competent and considerate! + </p> + <p> + It isn't every servant, said he, who thinks of the comfort of her + employers. Most of 'em, said he, insist on going to a chauffeurs' ball or + something of the sort on Christmas Eve, but here was a jewel-like daughter + of Martha who actually put the interests of her master and mistress above + her own, and complained not! And what made it all the more + incomprehensible to him was the fact that Melissa was quite a pretty girl. + There was no reason in the world why she shouldn't have gone to the ball + and had a good time instead of thinking of them in their hours of trouble. + But here she was, actually going out of her way to be kind to her + employers: supplying a complete family for Christmas Eve purposes and + never uttering a word of complaint! + </p> + <p> + The more he thought of it, the prettier she became. He mentioned it to his + wife and she agreed with him. Melissa was much too pretty, said Mrs. + Bingle, entirely without animus. And she was really quite a stylish sort + of girl, too, when she dressed up to go out of a Sunday. Much more so, + indeed, than Mrs. Bingle herself, who had to scrimp and pinch as all good + housewives do if they want to succeed to a new dress once a year. + </p> + <p> + Melissa had something of an advantage over her mistress in that she + received wages and was entitled to an afternoon off every fortnight. Mrs. + Bingle did quite as much work about the house, ate practically the same + food, slept not half so soundly, had all the worry of making both ends + meet, practised a rigid and necessary economy, took no afternoons off, and + all without pecuniary compensation—wherein rests support for the + contention that Melissa had the better of her mistress when all is said + and done. Obviously, therefore, Mrs. Bingle was not as well off as her + servant. True, she sat in the parlour while Melissa sat in the kitchen, + but to offset this distinction, Melissa could sing over her pans and + dishes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle, good soul, insisted on keeping a servant, despite the strain + on his purse, for no other reason than that he couldn't bear the thought + of leaving Mrs. Bingle alone all day while he was at the bank. (Lest there + should be some apprehension, it should be explained that he was a + bookkeeper at a salary of one hundred dollars a month, arrived at after + long and faithful service, and that Melissa had but fifteen dollars a + month, food and bed.) Melissa was company for Mrs. Bingle, and her + unfailing good humour extended to Mr. Bingle when he came home to dinner, + tired as a dog and in need of cheer. She joined in the table-talk with + unresented freedom and she never failed to laugh heartily over Mr. + Bingle's inspired jokes. Altogether, Melissa was well worth her wage. She + was sunshine and air to the stifled bookkeeper and his wife. + </p> + <p> + And now, for the third time, she was bringing the five rollicking Sykeses + to the little flat beyond Washington Square, and for the thousandth time + Mr. and Mrs. Bingle wondered how such a treasure as Melissa had managed to + keep out of heaven all these years. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle opened the front door with a great deal of ceremony the instant + the rickety elevator came to a stop at the seventh floor, and gave + greeting to the five Sykeses on the dark, narrow landing. He mentioned + each by name and very gravely shook their red-mittened paws as they sidled + past him with eager, bulging eyes that saw only the Christmas trappings in + the room beyond. + </p> + <p> + "Merry Christmas," said the five, not quite in one voice but with + well-rehearsed vehemence, albeit two tiny ones, in rapt contemplation of + things beyond, quite neglected their duty until severely nudged by + Melissa, whereupon they said it in a shrill treble at least six times + without stopping. + </p> + <p> + "I am very pleased to see you all," said Mr. Bingle, beaming. "Won't you + take off your things and stay awhile?" + </p> + <p> + It was what he always said to them, and they always said, "Yes, thank + you," following out instructions received on the way down town, and then, + in some desperation, added, "Mr. Bingle," after a sententious whisper from + their aunt. + </p> + <p> + They were a rosy, clean-scrubbed lot, these little Sykeses. Their mother + may not have fared overly well herself, but she had contrived to put flesh + and fat on the bones of her progeny, and you would go a long way before + you would find a plumper, merrier group of children than those who came to + the Bingle flat on Christmas Eve in their very best garments and with + their very best appetites. The eldest was ten, the youngest four, and it + so happened that the beginning and the end of the string were boys, the + three in between being Mary, Maud, and Kate. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bingle helped them off with their coats and caps and mufflers, then + hugged them and lugged them up to the fire, while Melissa removed her + skunk tippet, her poney coat and a hat that would have created envy in the + soul of a less charitable creature than the mistress of the house. + </p> + <p> + "And now," said Mr. Bingle, confronting the group, "who made you?" + </p> + <p> + "God, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, very much after the habit of a + dog that is ordered to "speak." + </p> + <p> + "And who was it that said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me?'" + </p> + <p> + "Jesus, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, eyeing the pile on the table. + </p> + <p> + "And where do you expect to go when you die?" demanded Mr. Bingle, with + great severity. + </p> + <p> + "Heaven!" shouted the perfectly healthy Sykeses. + </p> + <p> + "How is your mother, Mary?" asked Mrs. Bingle, always a rational woman. + </p> + <p> + Mary bobbed. "She's working, ma'am," said she, and that was all she knew + about her mother's state of health. + </p> + <p> + "Are you cold?" inquired Mr. Bingle, herding them a little closer to the + grate. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said two of the Sykeses. + </p> + <p> + "Sir," admonished Melissa. + </p> + <p> + "Sir!" said all of the Sykeses. + </p> + <p> + "Now, draw up the chairs," said Mr. Bingle, clearing his throat. "Mary, + you'd better take Kate and Georgie on your lap, and suppose you hold Maud, + Melissa. It will be more cosy." This was his way of overcoming the + shortage in chairs. + </p> + <p> + Now, it was Mr. Bingle's custom to read "The Christmas Carol" on Christmas + Eve. It was his creed, almost his religion, this heart-breaking tale by + Dickens. Not once, but a thousand times, he had proclaimed that if all men + lived up to the teachings of "The Christmas Carol" the world would be + sweeter, happier, nobler, and the churches could be put to a better use + than at present, considering (as he said) that they now represent + assembling places for people who read neither Dickens nor the Scripture + but sing with considerable intelligence. It was his contention that "The + Christmas Carol" teaches a good many things that the Church overlooks in + its study of Christ, and that the surest way to make good men out of ALL + boys is to get at their hearts while their souls are fresh and simple. Put + the New Testament and "The Christmas Carol" in every boy's hand, said he, + and they will create a religion that has something besides faith for a + foundation. One sometimes forgets that Christ was crucified, but no one + ever forgets what happened to Old Scrooge, and as Mr. Bingle read his + Bible quite assiduously it is only fair to assume that he appreciated the + relativeness of "The Christmas Carol" to the greatest Book in all the + world. + </p> + <p> + For twenty years or more, he had not once failed to read "The Carol" on + Christmas Eve. He knew the book by heart. Is it any wonder, then, that he + was a gentle, sweet-natured man in whom not the faintest symptom of guile + existed? And, on the other hand, is it any wonder that he remained a + bookkeeper in a bank while other men of his acquaintance went into + business and became rich and arrogant? Of course, it is necessary to look + at the question from both directions, and for that reason I mention the + fact that he remained a bookkeeper while those who scorned "The Christmas + Carol" became drivers of men. + </p> + <p> + Experience—and some sage conclusions on the part of his wife—had + taught him, after years of unsatisfactory practice, that it was best to + read the story BEFORE giving out presents to the immature guests. On a + great many occasions, the youngsters—in those early days they were + waifs—either went sound asleep before he was half way through or + became so restless and voracious that he couldn't keep his place in the + book, what with watching to see that they didn't choke on the candy, break + the windows or mirrors with their footballs, or put some one's eye out + with a pop-gun. + </p> + <p> + Of late he had been reading the story first and distributing the "goodies" + and toys afterward. It was a splendid arrangement. The "kiddies" kept + their eyes and ears open and sat very still while he read to them of Tiny + Tim and his friends. And when Mr. Bingle himself grinned shamefacedly + through his tears and choked up so that the words would not come without + being resolutely forced through a tightened throat, the sympathetic + audience, including Mrs. Bingle and Melissa—and on one occasion an + ancient maiden from the floor above—wept copiously and with the most + flattering clamour. + </p> + <p> + A small reading-lamp stood on the broad arm of his chair, which faced the + expectant group. Mr. Bingle cleared his throat, wiped his spectacles, and + then peered over the rims to see that all were attending. Five rosy faces + glistened with the sheen of health and soap lately applied with great + force by the proud but relentless Melissa. + </p> + <p> + "Take off your ear-muffs, James," said Mr. Bingle to the eldest Sykes, who + immediately turned a fiery red and shrank down in his chair bitterly to + hate his brothers and sisters for snickering at him. "There! That's much + better." + </p> + <p> + "They're new, Mr. Bingle," explained Melissa. "He hasn't had 'em off since + yesterday, he likes 'em so much. Put 'em in your pocket, Jimmy. And now + listen to Mr. Bingle. Are you sure they ain't too heavy for you, ma'am? + Georgie's getting pretty big—oh, excuse me, sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle took up the well-worn, cherished book and turned to the first + page of the text. He cleared his throat again—and again. Hesitation + at a time like this was unusual; he was clearly, suddenly irresolute. His + gaze lingered for a moment on the white knob of a door at the upper end of + the room, and then shifted to his wife's face. + </p> + <p> + "I wonder, my dear, if Uncle Joe couldn't be persuaded to come in and + listen to the reading," he ventured, a wistful gleam in his eyes. "He's + been feeling better the last few days. It might cheer him—" + </p> + <p> + "Cheer your granny," said Mrs. Bingle scornfully. "It's no use. I asked + him just before dinner and he said he didn't believe in happiness, or + something to that effect." + </p> + <p> + "He is the limit," said Melissa flatly. "The worst grouch I've ever seen, + Mr. Bingle, even if he is your own flesh and blood uncle. He's almost as + bad as Old Scrooge." + </p> + <p> + "He is a sick man," explained Mr. Bingle, lowering his voice; "and he + hasn't known very much happiness in his lifetime, so I suppose we ought to + overlook—er, ahem! Let me see, where was I?" He favoured young Mary + Sykes with a genial grin. "Where was I, Mary?" + </p> + <p> + Mary saw her chance. Without a trace of shame or compunction, she said + page seventy-eight, and then the three grown people coughed in great + embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + "You sha'n't come next Christmas," whispered Melissa very fiercely into + Mary's ear, so ominously, in fact, that Mary's lip began to tremble. + </p> + <p> + "Page one," she amended, in a very small voice. James moved uneasily in + his chair, and Mary avoided his gaze. + </p> + <p> + "I believe I'll step in and ask Uncle Joe if he won't change his mind," + said Mr. Bingle. "I—I don't believe he has ever read the Christmas + Carol. And he is so lonely, so—er—so at odds with the world + that—" + </p> + <p> + "Don't bother him, Tom," said his wife. "Get on with the reading. The + children are impatient." She completed the sentence in a yawn. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle began. He read very slowly and very impressively at first, but + gradually warmed up to the two-hour task. In a very few minutes he was + going along rapidly, almost monotonously, with scant regard for effect + save at the end of sentences, the ultimate word being pronounced with + distinct emphasis. Page after page was turned; the droning sound of his + voice went on and on, with its clock-like inflections at the end of + sentences; the revived crackle of coals lent spirit to an otherwise dreary + solo, and always it was Melissa who poked the grate and at the same time + rubbed her leg to renew the circulation that had been checked by the limp + weight of Katie Sykes; the deep sighs of Mrs. Bingle and the loud yawns of + the older children relieved the monotony of sound from time to time; and + the cold wind whistled shrilly round the corners of the building, causing + the youngsters to wonder how Santa was enduring the frost during his + tedious wait at the top of the chimney pot. Mrs. Bingle shifted the + occupants of her lap more and more often as the tale ran on, and with + little attempt to do so noiselessly; Mary's feet went to sleep, and James + fidgeted so violently that twice Mr. Bingle had to look at him. But + eventually he came to the acutely tearful place in the story, and then he + was at his best. Indeed, he quite thrilled his hearers, who became all + attention and blissfully lachrymose. Mrs. Bingle sobbed, Melissa rubbed + her eyes violently, Mr. Bingle choked up and could scarcely read for the + tightening in his throat, and the children watched him through solemn, + dripping eyes and hung on every word that told of the regeneration of + Scrooge and the sad happiness of Tiny Tim. And finally Mr. Bingle, as + hoarse as a crow and faint with emotion, closed the book and lowered it + gently to his knee. + </p> + <p> + "There!" he said. "There's a lesson for you. Don't you feel better for it, + young ladies and gentlemen?" + </p> + <p> + "I always cry," said Mary Sykes, with a glance of defiance at her eldest + brother, who made a fine show of glowering. + </p> + <p> + "Everybody cries over Tiny Tim," said Melissa. "As frequent as I've heard + Mr. Bingle read that story I can't help crying, knowing all the time it's + only a novel. It seems to me I cry a little worse every time it's read. + Don't you think I do, ma'am? Didn't you notice that I cried a little more + this time than I did last year?" + </p> + <p> + "It touches the heart-strings," said Mr. Bingle, blowing his nose so + fiercely that Georgie whimpered again, coming out of a doze. "I'll bet my + head, dear, that Uncle Joe would sniffle as much as any of us. I wish—er—I + do wish we'd asked him to come in. It would do him a world of good to shed + a few tears." + </p> + <p> + "He hasn't a tear in the whole hulk of him," said Mrs. Bingle, + sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + "Poor old man," said Melissa, relenting a bit. + </p> + <p> + "I bet I know what he's doing," said James brightly. + </p> + <p> + "Doing? What is he doing, James?" demanded Mr. Bingle, surprised by the + youngster's declaration. + </p> + <p> + "You can't fool me. I bet he's out there dressing up to play Santa Claus." + </p> + <p> + "Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, blinking. The thought of crabbed Uncle + Joe taking on the habiliments of the genial saint was too much for his + imagination. It left him without the power to set James straight in the + matter, and Uncle Joe was immediately accepted as Santy by the expectant + Sykeses, all of whom revealed a tremendous interest in the avuncular + absentee. They even appeared to be properly apprehensive, and crowded a + little closer to the knees of the grown-ups, all the while eyeing the door + at the upper end of the room. + </p> + <p> + Melissa's involuntary snort was not enlightening to the children, but it + served as a spur to Mr. Bingle, who abruptly gave over being sentimental + and set about the pleasant task of distributing the packages on the table. + Hilarity took the place of a necessary reserve, and before one could say + Jack Robinson the little sitting-room was as boisterous a place as you'd + find in a month's journey and no one would have suspected that Mr. and + Mrs. Bingle were eating their hearts out because the noisy crew belonged + to the heaven-blest Mrs. Sykes and not to them. + </p> + <p> + Ten o'clock came. Mr. and Mrs. Bingle sat side by side in front of the + fireplace, her hand in his. The floor was littered with white tissue + paper, red ribbons, peanut hulls and other by-products of festivity; the + rugs were scuffled up and hopelessly awry; chairs were out of their + accustomed places—two or three of them no longer stood upon their + legs as upright chairs should do—and the hearth was strewn with + coals from an overturned scuttle. Candle grease solidified on the + mantelpiece and dripped unseen upon the mahogany bookcase—all + unnoticed by the dreamy, desolate Bingles. They were alone with the annual + wreck. Melissa and the five Sykeses were out in the bitter night, on their + frolicksome way to the distant home of the woman who had so many children + she didn't know what to do for them, not with them. They had gone away + with their hands and pockets full, and their stomachs, too, and they had + all been kissed and hugged and invited to come again without fail a year + from that very night. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle sighed. Neither had spoken for many minutes after the elevator + door slammed behind the excited, shrill-voiced children. Mr. Bingle always + sighed exactly at this moment in his reflections, and Mrs. Bingle always + squeezed his hand fiercely and turned a pair of darkly regretful eyes upon + him. + </p> + <p> + "I am sorry, dear heart," she murmured, and then he kissed her hand and + said that it was God's will. + </p> + <p> + "It doesn't seem right, when we want them, need them so much," she said, + huskily. + </p> + <p> + And then he repeated the thing he always said on Christmas Eve: "One of + these days I am going to adopt a—er—a couple, Mary, sure as + I'm sitting here. We just can't grow old without having some of them about + us. Some day we'll find the right sort of—" + </p> + <p> + The bedroom door opened with a squeak, slowly and with considerable + caution. The gaunt, bearded face of a tall, stooping old man appeared in + the aperture; sharp, piercing eyes under thick grey eyebrows searched the + room in a swift, almost unfriendly glance. + </p> + <p> + "The infernal brats gone, Tom?" demanded Uncle Joe harshly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Bingle stiffened in their chairs. The tall old man came down + to the fireplace, disgustedly kicking a stray, crumpled sheet of tissue + paper out of his path. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, they are perfect dears, Uncle Joe," protested Mrs. Bingle, trying her + best not to bristle. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you had come in for a look at 'em—" began Mr. Bingle, but + the old man cut him off with a snort of anger. + </p> + <p> + "Cussed little nuisances," he said, holding his thin hands to the blaze. + </p> + <p> + "I don't see how you can say such things about children you don't know and + can't—" began Mrs. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + He glared at her. "You can't tell me anything about children, Mary. I'm + the father of three and I know what I'm talking about. Children are the + damnedest curse on earth. You ought to thank God you haven't got any." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II — RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION + </h2> + <p> + Now, Mr. Joseph Hooper had excellent cause for being a sour old man, and + in a measure was to be pitied because of his attitude toward the young of + his species. He had not been well-used by his own children, although it is + no more than right to explain that they were hardly what any one save a + parent would call children when they turned against him. At that + particular period in the history of the Hooper family, the youngest of + Joseph's three children was seventeen, the oldest twenty-two—and it + so happens that the crisis came just fifteen years prior to the opening + scene in this tale. It did not actually come on Christmas Eve, but, as a + matter of record, on the 2lst of December at about half-past three in the + afternoon. At that precise instant a judge sitting on the bench in one of + the courtrooms in New York City signed the decree divorcing Mrs. Joseph + Hooper from her husband, and four minutes later the lady walked out of the + building with her son and two daughters, all of them having deliberately + turned their backs upon the miserable defendant in the case. As all of the + children were of an age to legally choose the parent with whom they + preferred to live, and as they elected to cast off the paternal for the + maternal, it readily may be seen that Mr. Hooper was not entirely without + proof that this is a cruel, heartless, ungrateful world and filled with + gall. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, he had not been wholly to blame for the family crash, + notwithstanding a rather loose respect on his part for the sanctity of the + home. (It was not to be denied that he had strayed into crooked paths and + devious ways—and, to do him justice, he did not attempt to deny it: + he ventured only to EXPLAIN it.) According to his version of the affair, + the trouble began long before he took to wine and women. It began with his + wife's propensity for nagging. Being a high-spirited, intelligent person + with a mind of his own, Mr. Hooper didn't like being nagged, and as he + rather harshly attempted to put a stop to it just as soon as it dawned + upon him that he was being hen-pecked, his wife, not to be outdone, went + at it harder than ever. And that is how it all began, and that is why I + say that he was not wholly to blame. She was very pretty and very peevish, + and they lived a cat and dog life for ten years after the birth of the + last child. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hooper took to drink and then took to staying away from home for days + at a time. It was at this stage of the affair that the children began to + see him through their mother's eyes. Certain disclosures were inevitable. + In a word, Mrs. Hooper hired detectives, and finding herself in a splendid + position to secure all she wanted in the way of alimony, heralded Mr. + Hooper's shortcomings to the world. The only good that ever came out of + the unfortunate transaction, so far as Mr. Hooper was concerned, was to be + found in the blessed realisation that she had actually deprived herself of + the right to nag him, and that was something he knew would prove to be a + constant source of irritation to her. + </p> + <p> + But when his children turned against him, he faltered. He had not counted + on that. They not only went off to live with their mother, but they + virtually wiped him out of their lives, quite as if he had passed away and + no longer existed in the flesh. The three of them stood by the mother—as + they should have done, we submit, considering Mr. Hooper's habits—and + shuddered quite as profoundly as she when the name of the erring parent + was mentioned in their presence. Mr. Hooper couldn't for the life of him + understand this treachery on the part of his pampered offspring, on whom + he had lavished everything and to whom he had denied nothing in the way of + luxury. It was hard for him to realise that he was as much of a scamp and + scapegrace in their young eyes as he was in the eyes of his wife—and + the whole of his wife's family, even to the remotest of cousins. + </p> + <p> + In the bright days of their early married life, before he knew the + difference between what he looked upon as affectionate teasing and what he + afterwards came to know as persistent nagging, he deeded over to her the + house and lot in Madison Avenue. He did that willingly, cheerfully. Two + days after the divorce was granted, he paid over to her one hundred + thousand dollars alimony. He did that unwillingly, gloomily. And the very + next week the stock market went the wrong way for him, and he was cleaned + out. He hadn't a dollar left of the comfortable little fortune that had + been his. He remained drunk for nearly two months, and when he sobered up + in a sanitarium—and took the pledge for the first and last time—he + came out of the haze and found that he hadn't a friend left in New York. + Every man's head was turned away from him, every man's hand was against + him. + </p> + <p> + He sent for his son to come to the cheap hotel in which he was living. The + son sent back word that he never wanted to see his face again. Whereupon + Joseph Hooper for the first time declared that the sons and daughters of + men are curses, and slunk out of New York to say it aloud in the broad, + free stretches of the world across which he drifted without aim or purpose + for years and years and always farther away from the home he had lost. + </p> + <p> + He always said to himself—but never so much as a word of it to any + one else—that if his wife hadn't driven him to distraction with her + nagging he would have avoided the happy though disastrous pitfalls into + which he stumbled in his desperate efforts to find appreciation. He would + have remained an honourable, faithful spouse to her, and an abstainer—as + such things go. He would have shared with her the love and respect of + their three children, and he would have staved off bankruptcy with the + very hundred thousand dollars that she exacted as spite money. But she was + a nagger, and he was no Job. There was a modicum of joy in the heart of + him, however: having been cleaned out to the last penny, he was in no + position to come up monthly with the thousand dollars charged against him + by the court for the support and maintenance of two of his children until + they reached their majority. He took a savage delight in contemplating the + rage of his late wife when she realised that the children would have to be + provided for out of the income from the one hundred thousand she had + received in a lump sum, and he even thanked God that she was without means + beyond this hateful amount. It tickled him to think of her anguish in not + being able to spend the income from her alimony on furs and feathers with + which to bedeck herself. Instead of spending the five thousand on herself + she would be obliged to put it on the backs and into the stomachs of her + three brats! He chuckled vastly over this bit of good fortune! It was + really a splendid joke on her, this smash of his. No doubt the children + also hated him the more because of his failure to remain on his feet down + in Wall Street, but he consoled himself with the thought that they would + sometimes long for the old days when father did the providing, and wish + that things hadn't turned out so badly. + </p> + <p> + In his hour of disgrace—and we may add degeneration—he + possessed but one blood relation who stood by him and pitied him in spite + of his faults. That was his nephew, Tom Bingle, the son of his only + sister, many years dead. But even so, he did not deceive himself in + respect to the young man's attitude toward him. He realised that Tom was + kind to him simply because it was his nature to be kind to every one, no + matter how unworthy. It wasn't in Tom Bingle to be mean, not even to his + worst enemy. Notwithstanding the fact that the young man had just taken + unto himself a wife, and was as poor as a church-mouse, the door and the + cupboard in his modest little flat were opened cheerfully to the + delinquent Uncle Joe, and be it said to the latter's discredit and shame—he + proceeded to impose upon the generosity of his nephew in a manner that + should have earned him a booting into the street. But young Tom was + patient, he was mild, he even seemed to enjoy being put upon by the + wretched bankrupt. The thing that touched his heart most of all and caused + him to overlook a great many shortcomings, was the cruel, unfilial slap in + the face that had been administered by the three children of the man, and + the crushing, bewildering effect it had upon him. + </p> + <p> + It was Tom who virtually picked the once fastidious Joseph Hooper out of + the gutter, weeks after the smash, and took him under his puny wing, so to + speak, during a somewhat protracted period of regeneration. The broken, + shattered man became, for the time being, the Bingle burden, and he was + not by any means a light or pleasant one. For months old Joseph ate of his + nephew's food, drained his purse, abused his generosity, ignored his + comforts and almost succeeded in driving the young but devoted wife back + to the home from which Tom had married her. + </p> + <p> + It was at this juncture that the mild-mannered bookkeeper arose to the + dignity of a fine rage, and co-incidentally Joseph Hooper for the first + time realised what an overbearing, disagreeable visitor he had been and + departed, but without the slightest ill-feeling toward his benefactors. + Indeed, he was deeply repentant, deeply apologetic. He ruefully announced + that it would never be in his power to repay them for all they had done + for him, but, resorting to a sudden whim, declared that he would make them + his heirs if they didn't mind being used as a means to convey his final + word of defiance to the children who had cast him off. Not that he would + ever have a dollar to leave to them, but for the satisfaction it would + give him to cut the traitors off with the proverbial shilling. Beset with + the notion that this was an ideal way to show his contempt for his + offspring, he went to the safety deposit vault and took there from the + worthless document known as his last will and testament and in the + presence of witnesses destroyed the thing, thereby disinheriting the + erstwhile wife and her children as effectually as if he had really + possessed the estate set forth in the instrument. + </p> + <p> + "I'll make a will in your favour, Tom," he said at the time, with a + mocking grin, "and in it I will include this miserable carcass of mine, so + that you may at least have something to sell to the doctors. And who + knows? I may scrape together a few hundred dollars before I die, provided + I don't die too soon." + </p> + <p> + "We will give you a decent burial, Uncle Joe," said Thomas Bingle, + revolting against the specific. "Do you suppose I would sell my uncle to a—" + </p> + <p> + "Haven't you a ray of humour in that head of yours?" demanded his uncle. + "Can't you SEE a joke?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, if you were joking," said Bingle, relieved, "all well and good, but + it didn't sound that way." + </p> + <p> + "You are a simple soul," was all that Joseph said, and then borrowed fifty + dollars from his nephew for a fresh start in the world, as he expressed + it. With this slender fortune in his purse he set out into a world that + knew him not, nor was it known to him. + </p> + <p> + He came back fifteen years afterward, poorer than when he went away, + broken in health, old to the point of decrepitude, bedraggled, unkempt and + prideless. And once more Thomas Bingle took him in and provided the + prospective death-bed for him. They made the old derelict as comfortable + as it was in their power to do, and sacrificed not a little in order that + he might have some of the comforts of life. + </p> + <p> + He was a very humble, meek old man, and they pitied him. Screwing up his + courage, Mr. Bingle went one day to the home of the son of Joseph Hooper + and boldly suggested that, inasmuch as the mother was no longer living, it + would not be amiss for him and his sisters to take the father who created + them back into the family circle once more, and to ease his declining + years. Mr. Bingle was ordered out of the rich man's office. Then he + approached the two daughters, both of whom had married well, and met with + an even more painful reception. They not only refused to recognise their + father but declined to recognise their father's nephew. + </p> + <p> + A few days afterward, a lawyer came to the bank to see Mr. Bingle. He + informed the bookkeeper that the Hooper family had been thinking matters + over and were prepared to pay him the sum of seventy-five dollars a month + for the care of Joseph Hooper, or, in other words, they would contribute + twenty-five dollars apiece toward sustaining the life of one who was + already dead to them. Moreover, they stood ready to pay the expenses of + his funeral when actual dissolution occurred, but farther than that they + could not be expected to go. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle flared up—a most unusual thing for him to do. "You tell + them that I will take care of Uncle Joe as long as he lives without a + nickel from them and that I'll bury him when he dies." + </p> + <p> + "Out of your own pocket?" exclaimed the lawyer, who knew something of + bookkeepers' salaries. + </p> + <p> + "Most certainly not out of anybody else's," said Mr. Bingle, with dignity. + "And you can also tell them that they are a pack of blamed + good-for-nothings," he added, with absolutely no dignity. + </p> + <p> + "My dear sir." + </p> + <p> + "Be sure to tell 'em, will you? If I was a swearing man I'd do better than + that but I guess it will do for a starter." + </p> + <p> + "My clients will insist upon re-imbursing you for—" began the lawyer + stiffly, but Mr. Bingle snapped his fingers disdainfully, much nearer the + gentleman's nose than he intended, no doubt, and with a perfectly + astonishing result. The legal representative's hat fell off backwards and + he actually trod upon it in his haste to give way before the irate little + bookkeeper. + </p> + <p> + "You tell 'em just what I said, that's all you've got to do," said Mr. + Bingle, and then picked up his visitor's hat and pushed the crown into + shape with a vicious dig. "Here's your hat. Good day." + </p> + <p> + He was so boiling mad all the rest of the afternoon that he could not see + the figures clearly, and made countless mistakes, necessitating an extra + two hours' work on the books before he could even think of going home. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at the apartment, he found his wife in a state of perturbation, + not over his tardiness, but over the extraordinary behaviour of Uncle Joe. + The old man had been out most of the day and had come in at five, growling + and cursing with more than ordinary vehemence. + </p> + <p> + "He is in his bedroom, Tom, and I don't know what to make of him. He has + had bad news, I think." + </p> + <p> + "Bad news?" cried Mr. Single. "The very worst news on earth wouldn't seem + bad to Uncle Joe after all he has gone through. I'll go in and see him." + </p> + <p> + "Be careful, dear! I—I—he may be insane. You never can tell + what—" + </p> + <p> + It turned out that the old man had visited his three children during the + day, going to each of them as a suppliant and in deep humility. After + fifteen years, he broke his resolve and went to them with his only appeal. + He wanted to die with his children about him. That was all. He did not ask + them to love him, or forgive him. He only asked them to call him father + and to let him spend the last weeks of his life within the sound of their + voices. + </p> + <p> + Sitting at the supper table, he grimly related his experiences to the + distressed Bingles. + </p> + <p> + "I went first to Angela's, Tom," he said, scowling at the centre-piece. + "Angela married that Mortimer fellow in Sixty-first Street, you know—Clarence + Mortimer's son. Ever seen their home? Well, the butler told me to go + around to the rear entrance. I gave him my card and told him to take it up + to MY DAUGHTER. I had a fellow in a drug-store write my name neatly on + some blank cards, Mary. The butler threatened to call the police. He + thought I was crazy. But just then old Clarence Mortimer came up the + steps. It seems that he is living with his son, having lost all of his + money a few years ago. He recognised me at once, and I knew by the way he + shook hands with me that he has been leading a dog's life ever since he + went broke. He said he'd speak to Angela—and he did. I waited in the + hall downstairs. Old Clarence didn't have the courage to come back + himself. A footman brought down word that Mrs. Mortimer could not see Mr. + Hooper. She was not at home to Mr. Hooper, and—never would be. That + was what her servant was obliged to tell me. So I went away. Then I tried + Elizabeth. She lives in one of those fifteen thousand dollar a year + apartments on Park Avenue. She has three lovely children. They are my + grand-children, you know, Tom. I saw them in the automobile as I came out + of the building and went my way after Elizabeth Bransone had told me to my + face—I managed to get in to see her—had told me that I was a + sight, a disgrace, that she couldn't bear to look at me, and that I had + better clear out before her husband came in. My own daughter, Tom, my own + flesh and blood. She informed me that provision would be made for me, but + she made it very plain—damnably plain—that I was never to + bother her again. So I went away from Elizabeth's. There was only one of + 'em left, and I hated to tackle him worse than either of the girls. But I + did. I went down to his office. He refused to see me at first, but + evidently thought it best to get the thing out of his system forever, so + he changed his mind and told the office boy to let me in. Well, my son + Geoffrey is a very important person now. He married a Maybrick, you know, + and he is a partner in old Maybrick's firm—steamship agents. + Geoffrey looked me over. He did it very thoroughly. I told him I'd come to + see if he couldn't do something toward helping me to die a respectable, + you might say comfortable death. He cut me off short. Said he would give + me a thousand dollars to leave New York and stay away forever. I—-" + </p> + <p> + "I trust you did not accept the money," cried Mr. Bingle in a shocked + voice. + </p> + <p> + "I'm pretty well down and out, Tom, but I'd sooner starve than to take + money from him in that way. So I told my son to go to the devil." + </p> + <p> + "Good for you!" cried Mr. Bingle. "And then what?" + </p> + <p> + "He is a humorous individual, that pompous son of mine," said old Joseph, + with a chuckle. "He said I ought to be ashamed of myself for advising my + own son to go to the devil in view of what a similar excursion had done + for me. I managed to subdue my temper—it's a bad one, as you know—and + put the matter up to him in plain terms. 'I am your father, Geoffrey, when + all is said and done. Are you going to kick me out into the world when + I've got no more than a month or two to live? Are you going to allow my + body to lie in the Potter's field? Are you willing to allow this poor + nephew of mine to take care of me, to assume the responsibility of seeing + that I get a decent burial in a decent—-'" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Uncle Joe, you oughtn't even to think of such things," broke in his + niece by marriage. "You MUST think of cheerful—-" + </p> + <p> + "You are good for years and years—-" began Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Don't interrupt me," said Uncle Joe irascibly. "I guess I know what I'm + talking about. I'm good for a couple of months at the outside. I'm seventy + years old and I feel two hundred. Why, dammit, old Clarence Mortimer said + I LOOK a hundred. To make the story short, Geoffrey said he had arranged + to pay you for my keep, no matter how long I lasted, but he thought I was + foolish not to take the thousand and go to some quiet little place in the + country—and wait. If—if it should happen that I lived longer + than the thousand would carry me, he'd see to it that I had more. Only he + didn't want me hanging around New York. That was the point, d'you see? He + very frankly said that he had always sided with his mother against me, and + that was all there was to it, so far as he was concerned. And, see here, + Tom, he said you had been down to see him about me. Is that true?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I—I thought perhaps—er—I might be able to bring + about a reconciliation," floundered Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "And you found that in the upper circles it is not considered good form to + be reconciled unless it pays, eh? What would be the sense in becoming + reconciled to a wreck of a father, who hasn't a dollar in the world, after + getting along so nicely for fifteen years without him? No, it isn't done, + Tom—it's not the thing. Geoffrey made no bones about admitting that + as far as he is concerned, I have been dead for fifteen years. He—-" + </p> + <p> + "Well then," said Mr. Bingle, slamming his fist upon the dining-table so + violently that the cutlery bounced, "why the dickens does he object to + burying you? If I discovered a relative that had been dead for fifteen + years, I'd see to it that he was buried, if only for the good of the + community." + </p> + <p> + "He doesn't object to burying me," explained Uncle Joe. "He implies that + he'll do that much for me with pleasure. As a matter of fact, he said that + if I'd arrange to have some one notify him when I was literally dead, he + would see to it that I was buried. But I told him he needn't bother his + head about it, because I was quite sure you would do it even more + cheerfully than he and undoubtedly with less secrecy." + </p> + <p> + "Cheerfully?" gasped the Bingles. + </p> + <p> + "Cheerfully," repeated Uncle Joe firmly. "And now, can't we talk about + something else? I've done my best to make peace with my son and daughters, + and now I wash my hands of 'em. I never intended to weaken in my resolve, + but I—I just couldn't help it, Tom. I swore I'd never look into + their faces again, but, after all, I AM their father, you see, and I + suppose I'm getting weak and childish in my old age. I gave in, that's + all. I thought they might have some little feeling for me, and—" He + did not finish the sentence, and as the Bingles took that instant to blow + their noses and to look so intently at the electric chandelier that their + eyes smarted, it was perhaps just as well that he ended his ruminations + when he did. + </p> + <p> + All this happened six weeks prior to Christmas Eve, and they were six + long, trying weeks for the two Bingles. The old man was sick two-thirds of + the time and had to have a physician. He insisted on having the now famous + Dr. Fiddler, one of the most expensive practitioners in New York, + obstinately refusing to listen to reason. Fiddler had been the Hooper + family physician years ago and that was all there was to be said. He WOULD + have him. So poor Tom Bingle sent for the great man, who came and + prescribed for his old friend and client. After a week the Bingles began + to count the number of visits, and grew lean and gaunt-faced over the + prospect ahead of them. Fiddler's fee was ten dollars a visit—to a + friend, he explained, in accounting for the ridiculously low figure—and + he came twice a day for nearly two weeks. The Bingles did not complain. As + Mr. Bingle said, they took their medicine, even as Uncle Joe took his—only + he thrived on it and they withered. Dr. Fiddler was very nice about it, + however. He assured Mr. Bingle that he was in no hurry for his money. Any + time before the first of February would be perfectly satisfactory. He was + only too glad to have been instrumental in dragging his old friend, Joseph + Hooper from the very edge of the grave. + </p> + <p> + "And if he has a recurrence of the—" he began suavely. + </p> + <p> + "There's no danger of THAT, is there, Doctor? cried Mr. Bingle, gripping + his fingers tightly in his coat pockets. + </p> + <p> + "Don't hesitate a moment, Mr. Bingle. Send for me. You may depend upon it, + I will come on the instant. I think your poor uncle has been very badly—er—treated, + Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Do you attend the families of his son and daughters—I mean to say, + as their regular—" + </p> + <p> + "No," said Dr. Fiddler shortly, "I have not that felicity, Mr. Bingle." + And Mr. Bingle thought he understood why Dr. Fiddler felt that Uncle Joe + had been badly treated. + </p> + <p> + Later on, Uncle Joe blandly asseverated that it pays to have the best, no + matter what it costs. "Why, one of these cheap, rattle-brained doctors + would have let me die, sure as fate. Old Fiddler comes high, but he cures. + If I should happen to get sick again, Tom, send for him without delay, + will you?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle said he would, and he meant it. He had jotted down in the back + of a little notebook each successive visit of Dr. Fiddler, and, consulting + it from time to time, had no difficulty in realising that he came high. + Twenty-one visits, at ten dollars a visit, that's what it amounted to, say + nothing of the drug bill, the extra-food bill, the night-nurse's wages, + and the wear and tear on the nerves of his wife, himself—and + Melissa. For, it would appear, Melissa had nerves as well as the rest of + them, and Uncle Joe was the very worst thing in the world for Melissa's + nerves. She very frequently said so, and sometimes to his face, although + she never neglected him for an instant. In truth, she shared with Mrs. + Bingle the day nursing, and seldom slept well of nights, knowing that the + night-nurse was upsetting everything in the kitchen and pantry in her most + professional way. + </p> + <p> + Of course Uncle Joe did not actually get well. He merely recovered. In + other words, he survived the attack of influenza and heart trouble, only + to go on ailing as he had ailed before. He was quite cheerful about it, + too. They used to catch him chuckling to himself as he sat shivering over + the fireplace, and he seemed to take especial delight in demanding three + eggs for breakfast when every one knew that eggs were seventy-two cents a + dozen. The only compensation they had out of the experience—aside + from the realisation that they were living up to a principle—was the + untiring effort he made to entertain them with stories of his adventures + as a tramp! He gracelessly confessed that he had travelled under many + names, and that he was known by various soubriquets that would not sound + well on Fifth Avenue but still possessed the splendid virtue of being + decorative. There was not the slightest doubt that he had roamed the land + over, and there was not even the faintest suspicion that he had profited + by travel. + </p> + <p> + And this brings us up to Christmas Eve. With February not far away, and + Uncle Joe lamentably liable to have another attack, the Bingles curtailed + quite considerably in their preparations for the festivities in honour of + the five little Sykeses. They spent but a third of the customary amount in + providing presents, and they were not quite sure that they were wise in + spending as much as that. Uncle Joe went to considerable pains to convince + them that they were making fools of themselves in throwing away money that + might be needed for his funeral, and absolutely refused to become a party + to the affair. He moped in his bedroom, over an oil-stove, and made + himself generally unpleasant. As for "The Christmas Carol," he had but one + opinion about it, and this is no place to express it. + </p> + <p> + When he came into the sitting-room after the departure of the Sykeses, + breaking in upon the tender reflections of Mr. and Mrs. Single, he + represented the ghost who might have been at the feast but was, for some + reason, obligingly late. + </p> + <p> + As he stood over the blaze, rubbing his bony old knuckles, he was a + depressing figure indeed. His gloomy eyes had no reflected glow in them; + his long, stooped frame suggested nothing so much as a weather-worn + scare-crow about which a thousand storms had thrashed. There was no joy in + his soul. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he said, as if they had disputed him without reason, "you ought to + be thankful you have no children. What you can see in this tomfoolery + about Christmas Eve is beyond me. Better save your money for something + worth while, that's what I say. Something worth while." + </p> + <p> + "Well, WHAT, for instance?" demanded Mr. Bingle, suddenly irritated beyond + control. + </p> + <p> + "Confound you, Tom, do you forget that you owe Dr. Fiddler more than two + hundred dollars?" snapped Uncle Joe, turning on him. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I will pay him—I will pay him all right, never fear," replied + Mr. Bingle, shrinking. + </p> + <p> + Old Joseph Hooper regarded him keenly for a long time before speaking + again. His voice softened and his manner underwent a swift change. + </p> + <p> + "Tom Bingle, you are the best man living to-day," he said, a strange + huskiness in his voice. "If you were not as good as gold you would kick me + out and—and—" + </p> + <p> + "Kick you out, Uncle Joe!" cried Mr. Bingle, coming to his feet and laying + his hand on the bent shoulder. "God bless you, sir, I—I—I + ought to kick you out for SAYING such a thing!" + </p> + <p> + And old Joseph suddenly laid his arm on the mantelpiece and buried his + face upon it, his gaunt figure shaking with sobs. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III — THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE + </h2> + <p> + When Thomas Bingle made his inspired visit to Geoffrey Hooper in the + interest of peace, he took it upon himself to advise his wealthy cousin to + read "The Christmas Carol" before it was too late, and formed a permanent + and irradicable opinion of the pauper's son when that individual curtly + informed him that he was not in the habit of reading "trash." Mr. Bingle + was patient enough to inquire if he knew anything about "The Christmas + Carol" and Geoffrey in turn asked "who wrote the words for it," although + it really didn't matter, he added by way of cutting off the reply of his + astonished visitor, who naturally could not have expected to know that his + cousin was a consistent church-goer and knew a great deal about Christmas + carols. If it had been in his power to hate any one, Mr. Bingle would have + hated his solitary male cousin for that stupendous insult to literature. + As it was, he could only pity him for his ignorance, and at the same time + blame Uncle Joseph for bringing up his son in such a slip-shod manner. + </p> + <p> + It all went to show the trend of the world, however, in this callous age + of ours; it went to show that the right sort of missionary work was not + being performed. Mr. Bingle never forgave Geoffrey for calling "The + Christmas Carol" trash. In the light of what took place afterwards, he + felt that he was completely justified in an opinion formed almost on the + instant the abominable word was uttered. + </p> + <p> + Christmas fell on a Wednesday. Three days out of each year Mr. Bingle + slept late of a morning: Christmas, Easter Sunday and Labour Day. On this + particular Christmas morning he slept much later than usual; the little + clock in the parlour was striking eight when he awoke and scrambled out of + bed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bingle always had her coffee in bed. She adhered strictly to that + pleasant custom for the somewhat pathetic reason that it afforded a + distinct exemplification of the superiority of mistress over maid. By no + manner of means could Melissa have arrived at this expression of luxury. + </p> + <p> + "Merry Christmas," said Mr. Bingle, crimping his toes on the cold carpet + and bending over to kiss his companion's cheek. She responded with + unwonted vigour, proving that she had been wide awake for some time. + </p> + <p> + "I shall get up, Thomas," she declared, much to his surprise. + </p> + <p> + "It's pretty cold," said he. "Better stay where you are." + </p> + <p> + "I thought I heard Uncle Joe moving about in the sitting-room quite a + while ago," she said. "Do you suppose he needed a hot-water bottle?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle sighed. "If he did, you may be quite sure he would have got the + whole house up with his roars, Mary." + </p> + <p> + "You will take cold, Thomas, standing around without your—" + </p> + <p> + "I'll just run in and see if Uncle Joe needs anything," he interrupted, a + note of anxiety in his voice. Pausing at the bedroom door, with his hand + on the knob, he turned toward her with a merry grin on his deeply-seamed + face. His sparse hair was as tousled and his eyes as full of mischief as + any child's. "Maybe it was old Santa you heard out there, Mary—filling + the stockings." + </p> + <p> + She was too matter-of-fact for anything like that. "If you knew what was + good for you, Tom Bingle, you'd fill that pair of stockings lying at the + foot of the bed instead of running around in your bare feet," she said, + pulling the covers up about her chin. "I think I'll have my breakfast in + bed, after all." + </p> + <p> + "That's right," said he, and hurried nimbly out of the room so that she + would not hear the chattering of his teeth. Mrs. Single was enjoying the + paroxysm of a luxurious, comfortable yawn when she heard a shout of alarm + from the sitting-room. She sat straight up in bed. + </p> + <p> + "Mary! Oh, my goodness! I say, Melissa!" + </p> + <p> + Then came the pattering of Mr. Bingle's feet across the floor, followed by + the intrusion of an excited face through the half-open door. + </p> + <p> + "Wha—what IS the matter?" she quavered. + </p> + <p> + "He—he's gone!" + </p> + <p> + "Dead?" she shrieked. + </p> + <p> + "No! Gone, I said—left the house. Out in the cold. Freezing. + Wandering about in the streets—" + </p> + <p> + "In—in his night clothes?" gasped his wife. "Don't tell me he has + gone into the street without—" + </p> + <p> + "Get up!" cried Mr. Bingle, making a dash for his own garments. "We must + do something. Let me think—give me time. Now what is the first thing + to do? Notify the police or—" + </p> + <p> + "IS HE DRESSED?" she demanded. + </p> + <p> + "Of course," he replied. "At least he took his clothes with him. They're + not in his bedroom." + </p> + <p> + "Well, ask the elevator boy. He'll know when he went out. Hurry up, + Thomas. Don't stop to put on a collar. Do hurry—" + </p> + <p> + "I'm not putting on a collar," came in smothered tones. "I'm putting on a + shirt." + </p> + <p> + He didn't quite have it on when Melissa appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed + and excited. + </p> + <p> + "Uncle Joe has disappeared, ma'am," she chattered. "I can't find hide or + hair of him. Did you call, Mr. Bingle, or was it—" + </p> + <p> + "I called," said Mr. Bingle, getting behind the foot-board of the bed. + "Where is he? Did you—" + </p> + <p> + "I heard him moving about the kitchen about six or half-past. I peeked out + of my door, and there he was, all dressed, putting the coffee pot on the + stove. I says to him: 'What are you doing there?' and he says: 'I'm + getting breakfast, you lazy lummix,' and I says: 'Well, get it, you old + bear, 'cause I won't, you can bet on that,'—and went back to bed. + Oh, goodness—goodness! I wouldn't ha' said that to him if I'd knowed + he—" + </p> + <p> + "Don't blubber, Melissa," cried Mrs. Bingle. "Ask the elevator boy what + time it was when—" + </p> + <p> + "Hand me my trousers, Mary," shivered Mr. Bingle, "or send Melissa out of + the room. I can't—" + </p> + <p> + "He made himself some coffee and—" + </p> + <p> + "Call the elevator boy, as I tell you—No, wait! Dress yourself + first, you silly thing," commanded Mrs. Bingle, and Melissa fled. + </p> + <p> + The old man was gone, there could be no doubt about that. Investigations + proved that he had left the building at precisely sixteen minutes of + seven, the janitor declaring that he had looked at his watch the instant + the old man appeared on the sidewalk where he was shovelling away the + snow. He admitted that nothing short of a miracle could have caused him to + go to the trouble of getting out his watch on a morning as cold as this + one happened to be, and so he regarded old Mr. Hooper's exit as a most + astonishing occurrence. Further investigation showed that he had walked + down the six tortuous flights of stairs instead of ringing for the + elevator, and that he was clad in Mr. Bingle's best overcoat, an ulster of + five winters, to say nothing of his arctics, gloves and muffler. + </p> + <p> + No one, not even Mr. Bingle, could deny that it was a very shabby thing to + do on a Christmas morning, and for once the gentle bookkeeper lost faith + in his fellow-man. In all probability he would have excused Uncle Joe's + early morning stroll in garments that did not belong to him had it not + been for the fact that the old gentleman also took away with him all of + his own scanty belongings neatly wrapped in the morning newspaper, an + almost priceless breakfast possession from Mr. Bingle's way of looking at + it. + </p> + <p> + At first Mrs. Bingle insisted on having the police notified. It was so + evident that Uncle Joe had departed without even contemplating an early + return that she couldn't see why her husband shouldn't at least recover + what belonged to him before the old ingrate could get to a pawn-shop, + notwithstanding the family shame that would attend an actual arrest. + </p> + <p> + "He is an old scamp, Tom, and I don't see why you should put up with the + scurvy trick he has played on you," she protested, almost in tears. "After + all we've done for him, it really seems—" + </p> + <p> + "I swear to goodness, Mary, I believe I'd do it if—if it wasn't + Christmas," groaned Mr. Bingle, who sat dejectedly over the fire, his + hands jammed deep into his pockets, his chin on his breast. "But really, + my dear, I—I can't—I just can't set the police after him on + Christmas Day. Besides, he may come back of his own accord." + </p> + <p> + "He can't go very far on what he will get for your overcoat," she said + ironically. "He'll be back, never fear, when he gets good and hungry, and + he'll not bring your overcoat with him, either." + </p> + <p> + "My dear, whatever else Uncle Joe may have been, he is not a thief," said + Mr. Bingle stiffly. + </p> + <p> + "How do you know?" she demanded. "He may have been in the penitentiary, + for all we know about him. At any rate, he HAS stolen your overcoat, and + your rubbers, and—and—" + </p> + <p> + "My ear-muffs," supplied Mr. Bingle, seeing that she was taxing her + memory. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you regard all that as the act of an honest man," she said + irritably. "I DO wish, Tom Bingle, that you had a little more backbone + when it comes to—" + </p> + <p> + "Tut, tut!" interposed Mr. Bingle, uncomfortably. He resented her + occasional references to his backbone, or rather to the lack of it. + </p> + <p> + "—being put upon," she concluded. "Oh, just to think of the old + scamp doing this to you on Christmas Day!" she wailed. "No wonder his + children despise him." + </p> + <p> + "Well, we'll see what—" he began and then cleared his throat in some + confusion. His wife's appraising eye was upon him. + </p> + <p> + "What are we going to see?" she inquired, after a moment. + </p> + <p> + "We'll see what turns up," said he, somewhat defiantly, "I don't believe + in condemning a man unheard. I have a feeling that he—" + </p> + <p> + "What do you expect to wear when you go down to the bank in the morning?" + she demanded, still eyeing him severely. "Your spring overcoat? People + will think you're crazy. It's below zero." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I'll get along all right," said he stoutly. "Don't you worry about + me, Mary. By hokey, I wish he'd come back this afternoon, just to prove to + you that it isn't safe to form an opinion without—" + </p> + <p> + "There you go, Tom Bingle, wishing as you always do that somebody would do + something good just to show me that no one ever does anything bad. You + dear old goose! Only the meanest man in the world could have the heart to + rob you. That's what Uncle Joe is, my dear—the meanest man in the + world." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle sighed. He was in no position to argue the point. Uncle Joe had + not left him very much to stand upon in the shape of a theory. There was + nothing to do but to concede her the sigh of admission. + </p> + <p> + "It's possible," he said hopefully, "that the poor old man is—is out + of his head. Let us hope so, at any rate." And with this somewhat doubtful + sop to the family honour, he lapsed into the silence of one who realizes + that he has uttered a foolish remark and shrinks from the consequences. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bingle said "Humph," and no more, but there is no word in any + vocabulary that represents as much in the way of sustained argument as + that homely, unspellable ejaculation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hooper DID return, but not until the Saturday following Christmas Day. + He justified Mr. Bingle's faith in mankind to some extent by restoring the + overcoat and the arctics, but failed to bring back the ear-muffs and the + newspaper. He also failed to account for his own scanty belongings which + he had taken away from the flat wrapped up in the newspaper. As a matter + of fact, he did not feel called upon to account for anything that had + transpired since a quarter before seven on Christmas morning. He merely + walked in upon Mrs. Bingle at noon and told her to send for Dr. Fiddler at + once. Then he got into bed and shivered so violently that the poor lady + quite forgot her intention to berate him for all the worry and trouble he + had caused. She proceeded at once to dose him with quinine, hot whisky and + other notable remedies while Melissa telephoned for the doctor and Mr. + Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you think I'd better send for Dr. Smith, on the first floor, Uncle + Joe?" said Mrs. Bingle nervously. + </p> + <p> + "I want Dr. Fiddler," growled the old man. "I won't have anybody else, + Mary. He's the only doctor in New York. Well, why are you standing there + like a fence-post? Can't you see I'm sick? Can't you see I need a doctor? + Can't—" + </p> + <p> + "I only thought that perhaps Dr. Smith could do something to relieve you + before Dr. Fiddler arrives. You should not forget that Dr. Fiddler is a + great man and a—a busy one. He may not be able to come at once, and + in that case—" + </p> + <p> + "He'll come the minute you send for him," argued the sick man. "Didn't he + say he would? Do you want me to die like a dog? Where's Tom?" + </p> + <p> + "He is at the bank, Uncle Joe," said Mrs. Bingle patiently. "Now, try to + be quiet, we'll have the doctor here as quickly as possible." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want any of your half-grown doctors, Mary, understand that. I + want a real one. I'm a mighty sick man, and—" + </p> + <p> + "You'll be all right in a day or two, Uncle Joe," said she soothingly. + "Don't worry, you poor old dear. Drink this." + </p> + <p> + "What is it?" + </p> + <p> + "Never mind. It's good for you. Take it right down." + </p> + <p> + Uncle Joe surprised himself by swallowing the hot drink without further + remonstrance. His own docility convinced him beyond all doubt that he was + a very sick man. + </p> + <p> + "Send for Tom," he sputtered. "Send for him at once. He ought to be here. + I am his uncle—his only uncle, and he—" + </p> + <p> + "Now, do be quiet, Uncle Joe. Tom will be here before long. It's Saturday, + you know—a half holiday at the bank." + </p> + <p> + She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his hot forehead. + For a short time he growled about the delay in getting the doctor to the + apartment; then he became quietly watchful. His gaze settled upon the + comely, troubled face of Tom Bingle's wife and, as he looked, his fierce + old eyes softened. + </p> + <p> + "Mary," he said at last, and his voice was gentle, almost plaintive; "you + are a real angel. I just want you to know that I love you and Tom, and I + want you to tell me now that you forgive me for—for—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh! See if you can't go to sleep, Uncle Joe." + </p> + <p> + "I'd just like to hear you say that you don't hate me, Mary." + </p> + <p> + "Of course, I don't hate you. How can you ask such a question?" + </p> + <p> + "I've been a dreadful—" + </p> + <p> + "Hush, now. Here's Melissa. Did you get Dr. Fiddler, Melissa?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma'am," said the little maid-of-all-work, appearing in the doorway + with a couple of blankets that she had been warming behind the kitchen + range. "He's coming at once, ma'am, and—" her eyes were expressive + of an immense pity for her mistress—"he says he's prepared to stay + all night if necessary, and he's sent for TWO nurses, night and day. + Besides all that, his assistant is coming with him." + </p> + <p> + "That's the kind of a doctor to have," said Uncle Joe, with a vast + satisfaction. "None of your cheap, dollar-a-visit incompetents for me, + Mary. If a man's life is worth anything at all, it's worth more than a + couple of one dollar visits from these—What's the matter with you, + Melissa? Don't glare at me like that. Haven't I the right to live? Can't I + ask for a doctor—a mere doctor—without being—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I ain't begrudgin' you a doctor, Uncle Joe," said Melissa shortly. + "It's none of my business. You can have all the doctors in New York if you + want 'em." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want 'em, confound you," exclaimed Uncle Joe. "I only want a + fighting chance, that's all. I—" + </p> + <p> + "Nobody's fighting you, is they?" demanded Melissa, whipping a blanket + across the bed with more energy than seemed necessary. She began tucking + in the edges. "I guess we've always been pretty nice to you, Uncle Joe—every + one of us—and I guess we'll keep on being nice to you, so don't + growl." + </p> + <p> + "That's right, Melissa," said the sick man humbly. "You've been a jewel, + my girl. I—I shall never forget you." + </p> + <p> + "I'm a soft-hearted fool or I'd ha'—" began Melissa, somewhat + ominously, but checked herself after a quick glance at her mistress's + face. "Try to go to sleep, Uncle Joe," she substituted. "I'll have some + toast and tea for you when you wake up. You—you look as if you + hadn't eat anything since you left, you poor old thing." + </p> + <p> + "I hope Tom didn't need his overcoat while I was away, Mary," said Uncle + Joe, abruptly changing the topic of conversation. + </p> + <p> + "He has another coat," said Mrs. Bingle, evasively. "When you feel better + you must tell us what you have been doing for the past—" + </p> + <p> + "I'm not going to feel any better," said Uncle Joe, quite cheerfully. "I + may hang on for a long time but I'm not going to be any better. This is + the finish for me, Mary. And I'd like you to know that I didn't come back + here to die on your hands without first giving my children a chance to + take me in. I—I tried them once more." + </p> + <p> + "You—you went to them again?" she cried. Melissa laid the second + blanket across the bed more gently than the first. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Mr. Hooper, his thick eyebrows meeting in a scowl of anger. + "Yes, I talked with all three of them this morning before I came here. I + told them that I was sick and—and—" He choked up suddenly as + Mrs. Bingle began to pat his lean old knuckles with her soft, warm hand. + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't talk about it if I were you, Uncle Joe." + </p> + <p> + "But I—I want to talk about it," he said, with an effort. "First I + wrote a nice, kind letter to each one of them. Then I called them up on + the telephone and told them all how sick I was, that I couldn't last much + longer, that I didn't want to die in the street, or a charity hospital, or—the + police station. That confounded Christmas Carol of yours made me relent. I + read the thing the other night after you went to bed. They all asked me + where I was and said they would send an ambulance to take me to Bellevue, + and that was the best they could do for me. After the holidays, when they + had a little more time, they might possibly send me to a sanitarium if I—if + I showed any signs of improvement. That was all there was to it, Mary. I + told them—each one of 'em—that I washed my hands of them, and + they could all go to the devil. They won't do it, of course. People like + that never go to the devil for the simple reason that the devil hasn't + anything to offer them that they don't already possess. And so, Mary, I + came back here to see if you'd take me in. You and Tom have been my best, + my only real friends, and I—I thought you'd give me another chance. + If you feel even now that I am going to be too much bother and expense, + I'll get out. I'll go to a hospital and—" + </p> + <p> + "Not another word, Uncle Joe," said Mary Bingle, and she kissed his grim + old cheek. "Not another word." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Mary, thank you for that. I—I was just wondering whether + you could stand all of the expense and—" + </p> + <p> + Melissa broke in sharply: "Of course, we can. My wages can go over till—" + </p> + <p> + "And you will not turn me out?" whispered Uncle Joe, his eyes shining. + </p> + <p> + "Never!" said Mrs. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Never!" said the maid-of-all-work. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hooper turned over on his side and was strangely quiet after that. His + nephew came home at three and found himself confronted by two nurses, two + doctors and a cabman who was waiting in the hallway for his fare. It + seemed that Uncle Joe had driven home in a cab, and being somewhat + uncertain as to the duration of his stay in the apartment of his nephew, + instructed the fellow to wait, which the fellow did for a matter of more + than three hours and was prepared to wait a good while longer unless he + got his pay. Uncle Joe's forgetfulness cost Mr. Bingle six dollars and + fifty cents, and he entered the sitting-room with a heart doubly sore. Of + one thing he was uncomfortably certain: the nurses would cost fifty + dollars a week and they would have to be paid on the dot. They were not + like doctors, who could afford to wait. They were working for a living. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's salary at the bank was one hundred dollars a month. He was an + expert accountant, but it did not require the intelligence of an expert to + do the "sum" that presented itself for his hasty consideration. His small, + jealously guarded account in the savings bank would be wiped out like a + flash. And yet he entered the sick-room with a cheerful countenance and an + unfaltering faith in the fitness of all things. He greeted his repentant + Sindbad with such profound gladness and relief that one might well have + believed him to be happy in having the burden restored to his frail + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well, here you are!" he cried, rubbing his cold hands vigorously + before offering to grasp the bony old fingers that were extended to him. + "Glad to see you back, Uncle Joe. Comfortable? Well, well, how are you?" + He shook his uncle's hand warmly. "Sorry to see you laid up again, sir, + but we'll have you as good as new in no time. Eh, doctor? As good as new, + eh?" + </p> + <p> + Uncle Joe had nothing to say. He clung to his nephew's hand and smiled + faintly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle looked puzzled. This was not like the Uncle Joe he had known. + He sent a questioning glance toward the sober-faced doctor, and then sat + down beside the bed, very much shaken by the news that came to him in the + significant shake of Dr. Fiddler's head. + </p> + <p> + After many minutes had passed, Uncle Joe began to speak to his nephew. His + voice was weak and the words came haltingly. + </p> + <p> + "Tom, you are a good boy—as good as gold. No, that isn't fair to + you. You're better than gold. I honestly believe you like me, wretched and + troublesome as I am. Your mother loved me, Tom. No one ever had a sister + who loved a brother more than she loved me. Thank God, she died long + before I came to this dreadful pass. She was spared seeing me as I am now. + Well, I want to ask a last favour of you, nephew. I want you to see that I + am buried beside your mother up at Syracuse. Just have a simple funeral, + my boy. No fuss, no flowers, no singing. Then take me up to the old + burying ground and—and I won't bother any one after that. I suppose + it will cost you something to do it, but—but if you knew how much it + will mean to me now if I have your promise to—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" whispered Mr. Bingle. "Don't talk of dying, Uncle Joe. Don't speak + of graveyards while—" + </p> + <p> + "Will you promise? That's the question," said Uncle Joe stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Mr. Bingle painfully; "when the time comes I'll lay you beside + my mother. Don't worry about it, Uncle Joe." + </p> + <p> + "I hate to put you to the expense of—" + </p> + <p> + "Pooh!" said Mr. Bingle, as if the cost of the thing was the merest trifle + to him. + </p> + <p> + "If I were to live for a thousand years, Tom, I could never find the means + to adequately compensate you and Mary for the joy and comfort you have + given me at so great a cost to yourselves. By dying, I may be able to make + your load lighter, so I am going to die as quickly as the doctor will + allow me to do so." + </p> + <p> + He died at nine o'clock that night. The next day Mr. Bingle notified his + three children that he was taking their father to Syracuse for burial, and + that if they chose to do so they could come to the apartment late that + afternoon for the brief funeral service. Geoffrey, speaking for his + sisters as well as for himself, expressed regret that poor Tom had been + saddled with certain annoyances and inconvenience in connection with the + late Joseph Hooper, and that they, as a family, would be pleased to assume + the cost of his funeral, provided Tom would present an itemized statement + on his return from Syracuse, covering all legitimate expenses not only in + connection with the funeral but also anything that may have arisen during + his most recent illness. + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Bingle, without consulting his wife, informed Geoffrey that he was + quite able to meet all of the expenses without aid from "the family" and + that he preferred to have nothing more said about the matter. Whereupon + Geoffrey told him to go ahead and do as he pleased about it, and hung up + the telephone receiver. + </p> + <p> + Greatly to the amazement and relief of the Bingles, Dr. Fiddler insisted + on paying all of the funeral expenses, including the railroad fare of the + two mourners to and from Syracuse. Moreover, he calmly announced that he + would not accept a penny from Mr. Bingle for services rendered the sick + man. + </p> + <p> + "Mary," said Mr. Bingle, on the way back to New York after the interment + in Syracuse, "if everybody in this world was as good as Dr. Fiddler, what + a happy place it would be. Just think of it! He gave all of his time, all + of his experience—everything—and now refuses to take a cent + from me. It isn't everybody who is as easy on the poor as that man is, my + dear. He is a—a real nobleman." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bingle had been thinking too. "Well, I dare say he makes up for it by + being a little harder on the rich every time he finds it necessary to be + easy on the poor," she said cryptically. + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing," she said, ashamed of her estimate of the good doctor. "I + shouldn't have said that." + </p> + <p> + "I insist on an explanation." + </p> + <p> + "Well, if you must have it, I'll bet he gets even somehow. I'd hate to be + his next patient if I was rich enough to call him in to attend me." + </p> + <p> + "I am surprised at you, Mary," said Mr. Bingle, and his expression + convinced her that he really was. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV — FORTY MINUTES LATE + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Bingle was late at the bank the morning after their return from the + North. Not in all the years of his connection with the institution had + such a thing happened to him—or to the bank, for that matter. He + made it a point to be punctual. In his opinion, a man was taking something + that did not belong to him when he failed his employer in the matter of + promptness. Working AFTER hours to make up the lost time was, in his + estimation, a rather cowardly form of penance; it was simply a confession + that the delinquent had robbed his master of a certain number of fresh + minutes earlier in the day, and was trying to restore them at the end of + the day, when he was in no condition to give as good as he had taken. + </p> + <p> + One could set his watch by Thomas Bingle. All of the clocks, and all of + the watches, and all of the clerks in the bank might be late, but NEVER + Thomas Bingle. He kept absolutely perfect time, year in and year out. And + so, when he came dashing into the bank on this particular morning nearly + forty minutes late, every man in the long counting-room jerked out his + watch and glanced at its face with an expression of alarm in his eyes, + absolutely convinced that he had made the heart-breaking mistake of + getting down to work forty minutes too soon. Such a thing as Mr. Bingle + getting down forty minutes too late was infinitely more improbable than + that all the rest of them should have reported that much too early. + </p> + <p> + The tardy one was conscious of the concentrated stare of sixty eyes as he + slid onto the stool in front of his desk and began to fumble with the pens + and blotters. The man at his left elbow said "well, well!" and the man at + his right elbow said "st! st! st!" with his tongue in a most reproachful + manner. They could understand Mr. Bingle's absence for three whole days, + having got wind of a death in the family, but, for the life of them, they + couldn't see what he meant by spoiling a perfectly clean record for + punctuality when he might have remained away for the entire day, just as + well as not, instead of upsetting a hallowed tradition in the bank by + coming in forty minutes late. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, Mr. Bingle was confident that all of the high officials in the + bank, from the president down to the seventh assistant cashier, had + noticed his tremendous shortcoming, and that they were even now whispering + among themselves that he ought to be discharged forthwith. He could feel + people glaring at him from behind; he could feel the president's eyes, and + the four vice-presidents' eyes, and the chairman of the board's eyes and + all of the directors' eyes boring holes through the partitions to fix + their accusing gaze upon him as he bent nervously over the huge ledger and + tried to shrink into invisibility. He had committed a heinous, + inexcusable, unpardonable offence. He would have to pay the penalty. After + all these years of faithful service, he would be kicked out in disgrace; + some one else would be sitting in his place after luncheon and some one + else would be hanging his coat and hat in the locker he had used for + fifteen years without—His eyes grew misty as he bent a little closer + to the page and tried to focus his thoughts on what was actually before + him. + </p> + <p> + What difference would it make to these heartless plutocrats and overlords + when he told them that his wife was ill and that he could not leave his + home until the doctor had come to reassure him? What did they know about + connubial happiness and connubial obligations? They would stare at him + coldly—or perhaps laugh in his face—and say that the fate of a + great banking institution could not be put in jeopardy just because Mrs. + Bingle happened to be critically ill. Mr. Bingle, for the first time in + his life, began to appreciate his own importance. He began to realise that + in all likelihood the bank would go to pieces as the result of his failure + to appear at his desk at the appointed minute. He recalled having seen the + first vice-president and the cashier in close conversation as he slunk + through the little passage behind the latter's office, and he remembered + also with sickening clearness that they stopped talking and stared at him + as he hurried by. And, now that he thought of it, the first vice-president + had smiled pleasantly and had said something that sounded like "good + morning, Mr. Bingle," although it certainly couldn't have been that. It + was regarded as especially ominous when an official of the bank said + good-morning to a clerk or a bookkeeper. It meant, according to tradition, + that his days were numbered. It was a sort of preliminary sentence. Later + on, there would come a summons to appear at the "office." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle sat on his stool, his feet hooked rigidly in the stretchers as + if prepared to resist any effort to yank him out of the place he had held + for fifteen years, and all the while he was listening for the voice of the + messenger at his shoulder, ordering him to step into Mr. Force's room. + </p> + <p> + The trip to Syracuse had been too much for Mrs. Bingle. The railway + coaches were cold; she shivered nearly all the way up and all the way + back, notwithstanding Melissa's furs and the extra suit of flannels she + had donned at Mr. Bingle's suggestion. She came home with a frightful cold + and a temperature that frightened her husband almost out of his boots. + </p> + <p> + She was not in the habit of taking long journeys by train. As a matter of + fact, she had never been farther away from Manhattan Island than Hartford, + Connecticut, and that experience befell her in the middle of an extremely + torrid June. Perhaps a half-dozen times in the fifteen years of her + married life she had gone to Peekskill to visit her mother and a married + sister, but always in warm weather. Not that she was too poor to make the + trip to Peekskill as often as she liked, but her mother and sister made it + unnecessary by coming to New York for frequent and sometimes protracted + visits at the Bingle apartment, and usually without first inquiring + whether it would be convenient or otherwise. She very sensibly realised + that Mr. Bingle saw quite enough of his wife's relatives in this way, and + refused to drag him into the country to see more of them. He had better + use for his Sundays, and as for his vacations, they were always spent at + home in the laudable effort to save a little money against the rainy day + that people are always talking about. So Mrs. Bingle stayed at home, and + contrived to love her good little husband more and more as each narrow day + went by, winter and summer, year in and year out, and not once did the + iron of discontent enter her soul. Some day, when they could really afford + it, they were going away for a month's fishing-trip in the wilds of Maine, + but all that could wait. It was something to look forward to, and there is + a lot in that. + </p> + <p> + Neither of them had ever dreamed that Syracuse was so near to the North + Pole, nor had they the remotest idea that the weather could be so cold + anywhere on earth as it was in the upper part of New York State. The + coldest days they had ever known in New York City—and they had + always believed that nothing could be colder—were balmy when + compared with that awful day on the outskirts of Syracuse—that + bleak, blighting day in the wind-swept graveyard where the mother of + Thomas Bingle slept. + </p> + <p> + They fairly shrivelled in their skins as they stood beside the open grave + and saw, through blurred eyes, the last of Uncle Joe. Both of Mr. Bingle's + ears were frozen quite stiff. A much be-furred undertaker's assistant + rubbed snow on them with what seemed to be unnecessary vigour and told him + to have 'em looked after when he got back to New York. They were ugly + things, those ears of his, and Mr. Bingle was acutely conscious of their + size and colour as he sat at his desk and waited for word to come to "the + office." A sudden and almost insupportable itching of his heels filled him + with fresh alarm, and for one ghastly moment he forgot his ears and his + crime. Were his heels frost-bitten? If so—then, what was to become + of him? + </p> + <p> + "Get your uncle buried all right?" inquired his left-hand neighbour, + suddenly speaking out of the void. Mr. Bingle's reply was a guilty, + bewildered start. The man went on: "What did he die of?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh," said Mr. Bingle hazily, "most assuredly." + </p> + <p> + "I said, what ailed him?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, he was dead," said Mr. Bingle, vaguely surprised by the other's + obtuseness. "That's why we buried him." + </p> + <p> + "I see," said the questioner, after staring hard for a moment. He edged a + little farther away from Mr. Bingle and shot a swift glance of + apprehension in the direction of the door. + </p> + <p> + "I couldn't help being late," ventured Mr. Bingle, his first apology in + fifteen years. "My wife is sick, Jenkins—mighty sick. The doctor + couldn't come at once, so I had to wait. She—" + </p> + <p> + "Say," said Jenkins nervously, "the old man didn't die of anything + catching, did he?" + </p> + <p> + "Catching?" + </p> + <p> + "I mean contagious. Your wife hasn't caught anything from him, has she? If + she has, you oughtn't to come around here carrying—" + </p> + <p> + "He died of old age," said Mr. Single stiffly. + </p> + <p> + "Sure?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course." + </p> + <p> + "Well, we all catch that if we live long enough," said Jenkins, + considerably relieved. "How old was he?" + </p> + <p> + "Seventy-three." + </p> + <p> + "Leave anything?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle was suddenly bereft of all power of speech. Three men were + standing just outside the long bronze caging that enclosed the + bookkeeping-department, and they were looking at him with a directness + that was even more pronounced than the stare of utter dismay with which he + favoured them. There could be no mistake: they were discussing him—Thomas + Bingle! And they were discussing him with unquestionable seriousness. His + heart flopped down to his heels and his poor ears burned with a fierceness + that caused him to fear that they were on the point of bursting into + flames. The first vice-president was pointing him out to the president, + there could be no doubt about that; and the pompous president was bobbing + his head in a most extraordinary manner, there could be no doubt about + that either. The third man of the trio was the chief watchman, and he was + looking at Mr. Bingle as a cat looks at a captured mouse. It was all over! + They were about to arrest him for embezzlement or murder or something + equally as heinous. Mr. Bingle turned colder than he had been at any time + during his stay in the ice-bound city of Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + Then the trio abruptly turned away and left him sitting there, frozen to + the marrow. He tried to swallow, but his throat was paralysed. + </p> + <p> + "Gee, that looks bad, Bingle," whispered Jenkins, pityingly. "That was the + old man. What—what the dickens have you been up to?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's stiff lips moved but no sound came forth. He was to be + discharged! In fifteen years he had been late at his desk but once, and he + was to be discharged! What would Mary say? What would become of Mary? What + would become of Melissa, now that they couldn't afford to keep a servant? + </p> + <p> + "You been here longer than any one, too," went on Jenkins. "How long has + it been, Bingle?" + </p> + <p> + "Fifteen years," gulped Mr. Bingle, in a strange, unnatural voice. + </p> + <p> + "That's longer than the old man himself," said Jenkins. "He's been + president less'n twelve years. Say, Bingle, I'm all broke up over it. I—I + hope it ain't as bad as we think. Maybe—oh, I say, it's your EARS! + That's what it is. Mr. Force was showing him your ears. And say, take it + from me, Bingle, they're worth going a long way to see, too. Good Lord, + what a relief!" Mr. Bingle actually took hope. Could it be possible? Were + frozen ears so rare a sight that the president of a great bank—But + even as he grasped at the straw he became convinced that it was very + likely to prove his salvation, for, to his amazement and confusion, the + cashier and the fourth vice-president strolled up to the caging and + regarded him with the gravest interest. He bent his head to the task + before him, hoping against hope that it WAS his ears and not his + tardiness. And, when he looked up again many minutes afterward, other + officials of the bank were looking at him from various points of vantage, + and all of them were staring with the most amazing intentness, quite as if + they had never seen anything so strange as the man who had sat unnoticed + in this very spot for fifteen years and more. Messengers took a peep at + him as they circled from window to window; patrons of the bank sauntered + past and squinted vaguely in his direction. + </p> + <p> + Vice-president Force came back a second time and actually pointed him out + to an utter stranger, at the same time waving his hand at Mr. Bingle in a + most friendly and engaging manner! + </p> + <p> + The poor bookkeeper reeled on his stool. He laid his pen down, removed the + green shade from over his eyes, placed his blotters neatly in the rack, + and turning to Jenkins, said: + </p> + <p> + "I can't stand it, Jenkins. I've—I've just got to know the worst. + I'm going to the office." + </p> + <p> + "With—without being sent for?" gasped Jenkins. + </p> + <p> + "There's no use putting it off. I—" + </p> + <p> + A dapper little page appeared at Mr. Bingle's elbow, interrupting him with + the curt remark that Mr. Force wanted to see him when it was convenient. + </p> + <p> + "Convenient?" murmured Mr. Bingle, his eyes bulging. + </p> + <p> + "Well, great—" began Jenkins. + </p> + <p> + "That's what he said: convenient," said the page loftily. "Gee, where did + you get them ears?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle got down from his stool slowly, painfully. + </p> + <p> + "I guess I'll go now," he said. "It's just as convenient for me to get out + now as—" + </p> + <p> + "I can't understand that 'convenient' business," broke in Jenkins, + wrinkling his brow. "Well, good luck, Bingle. I'm sorry." + </p> + <p> + Sixty wistful, sympathetic eyes followed Mr. Bingle as he made his way out + to the passage. The word had gone 'round that "old Bingy" was to get the + sack, and every one was saying to himself that if they discharged a man + like Bingle for being late it wouldn't be safe for any one to transgress + for even the tiniest fraction of an instant. + </p> + <p> + Half-way down the narrow aisle leading to the offices, Mr. Bingle stopped + to wipe his brow and to pull himself together for the coming ordeal. A + high-and-mighty young man who had been elevated from a clerkship to the + post of third assistant foreign teller, and who no longer deemed it proper + to associate with his erstwhile companions in the "galleys," emerged from + his cage and, coming abruptly upon the shivering bookkeeper, blinked + uncertainly for a moment and then said in what was unmistakably a polite + and even respectful tone: + </p> + <p> + "Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Pleasant day, sir, isn't it?" + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Bingle had been in a condition to notice such things as miracles, + he might have been struck by this one, but he merely said it WAS a + pleasant day and resumed his way, utterly oblivious to the fact that a + human being had been completely transformed before his very eyes. A few + steps farther on he encountered an even mightier force than the third + assistant foreign teller: the bank detective. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Nice day, sir," said the bank detective, + somewhat eagerly, and stood aside to let the lowly bookkeeper pass without + being jostled—as was the custom. + </p> + <p> + "Morning," said Mr. Bingle, still unimpressed. It seemed to him that every + one was evincing a singular interest in the fact that he was about to be + discharged on a pleasant day. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force was seated at his desk when Bingle entered the room and found + himself in the presence of the man who was certain to become president + when "the old man" died—an event that would have to occur if the + first vice-president's dream of elevation ever came true, for there wasn't + the remotest likelihood that he would have the sense of decency to resign, + no matter how old or how senile he became in the course of time. + </p> + <p> + Now, Mr. Force took himself very seriously. Having married an exceedingly + wealthy woman after a career in which liveliness had meant more to him + than livelihood, he assumed that if he treated the world at large with + extreme aloofness it would soon forget—and overlook—the fact + that he had never amounted to a row of pins in the estimation of those who + knew him as a harvester in Broadway. Shortly before his marriage—at + forty-three—he abandoned an extensive crop of wild oats in the very + heart of New York City—announcing that he intended to retire from + active business and go to work. + </p> + <p> + Going to work meant stepping into a bank as its third vice-president the + week after his return from a honeymoon spent with a bride who held, in her + own right, something over one-half of the entire capital stock of the + institution. Her wedding present to him was the third vice-presidency and + the everlasting enmity of every director and official in the bank. He + accepted both in the spirit in which they were given. To the surprise of + his enemies and the scorn of his friends, he promptly settled down and + made himself so valuable to the bank that even his wife was vindicated. He + managed in one way or another to increase her holdings and soon was in a + position to dictate to those officially above him. He dictated so + effectually in the case of the first and second vice-president that they + preferred to resign rather than to continue the struggle to keep him in + his place. Before he had been in the bank a year, he was its first + vice-president. + </p> + <p> + It was generally conceded that the president himself would have been in + jeopardy but for the fact that he was the father of Mrs. Force and + therefore exempt. In order to clarify the situation, it is necessary to + state that the bride inherited her extensive holdings from a former + husband, who, it appears, died of old age when she was but twenty-six. It + would also appear that her father owed his position as president to the + influence of Mr. Force's predecessor, or rather to the influence that his + daughter exercised over an old gentleman in his dotage. Be that as it may, + the present chief executive of the bank was immune for life. To quote the + directorate, he couldn't be FORCED out of office. His son-in-law would be + obliged to wait. He could afford to wait. He was forty-four. + </p> + <p> + It has been said that Mr. Sydney Force was seated at his desk when Thomas + Bingle sidled into the luxurious office. It must now be added that he did + not retain his seat for more than a second after Mr. Bingle's entrance. In + fact, he fairly leaped to his feet, frightening his visitor into a sudden, + spasmodic movement of the hand in search of the door-knob and a backward + shuffle of both feet at once. The little bookkeeper's alarm was + groundless. Mr. Force came forward, beaming, his hand extended. + </p> + <p> + "How are you, Mr. Bingle? Come right in. Well, well, this is splendid. Too + good to be true, 'pon my word it is." He was wringing the little man's + hand violently. "I confess that I am surprised that you considered it + worth while to come down to the bank at all, sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle was batting his eyes furiously. He was also having a great deal + of difficulty with his knees. + </p> + <p> + "I—I couldn't help it, Mr. Force," he stammered. "I really couldn't. + It is the first time in all the years of my connection with—" + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon, Mr. Bingle," interrupted Mr. Force, with a somewhat + sweeping wave of the hand that took in practically all of the office and + yet no spot in particular; "this is Mr. Sigsbee." He then stood aside and + permitted Mr. Bingle to discover Mr. Sigsbee, who came hastily out of the + whirling background. + </p> + <p> + "Glad to meet you, sir," said Mr. Sigsbee, giving Mr. Bingle's hand a + tremendous squeeze. "I should have known you, Mr. Bingle, anywhere on + earth from the description given to me." + </p> + <p> + Description! Poor Bingle's blood congealed. Description? That dreadful + word could have but one application. It was never used except in + connection with people who were wanted for crime. The man was a detective! + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, Mr. Bingle," said Force, with shocking amiability. "Will you + smoke?" + </p> + <p> + "No, thank you," said Mr. Bingle, doing his best to pull himself together + and failing completely. "As I was saying, Mr. Force, my wife—" + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, the door to an adjoining room was thrown open and the + bank's president stood revealed. At his back was the chairman of the board + and also the cashier, while somewhat indistinctly associated with the + sombre elegance of the room beyond were the figures of a peeping + stenographer and an open-mouthed secretary whose neck was gallantly + stretched almost to the point of dislocation because he was too much of a + gentleman to push the little stenographer out of his line of vision. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well, Bingle!" exclaimed the president, somewhat gustily as he + hastened forward. "How are you? That this should happen to you! It is + unbelievable!" He was pumping Mr. Bingle's arm. "I don't see how in the + world we are to get along without you. You ought to be ashamed of + yourself. Why don't you—" + </p> + <p> + "Wha—what in the name of heaven am I accused of doing?" blurted out + Mr. Bingle abjectly. "This is some awful mistake. I—" + </p> + <p> + "Accused of doing?" exclaimed Mr. Force, frowning perplexedly. + </p> + <p> + "What say, Bingle?" inquired the president, who wasn't quite certain that + his hearing was what it used to be. "What say?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sigsbee interposed, staring hard at the little man. "Haven't you been + notified of—Oh, I say, you have at least seen the morning papers?" + </p> + <p> + "Have they printed anything about me?" gasped Mr. Bingle, sitting down + very suddenly. "It's a lie, gentlemen—a lie, I tell you! I haven't + done a thing—" + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean to say—" began Mr. Force, glaring at the shivering + little man. + </p> + <p> + "I'll bring an action against 'em," shouted Mr. Bingle from the depths of + the huge chair. "I'll sue 'em for all they're worth if they've—" + </p> + <p> + "Haven't you seen the newspapers?" demanded Mr. Sigsbee, bending over the + occupant of the chair in what that individual mistook for a menacing + attitude. + </p> + <p> + "I—I didn't have time to look at the paper," mumbled Mr. Bingle. "My + wife was so miserable that—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Force, and then, to Bingle's astonishment, + the five other occupants of the room were overtaken by a simultaneous + impulse to shout at the top of their voices, all of them crowding close + about him and barking unintelligible exclamations into his very teeth, so + to speak. + </p> + <p> + The strangest part of it all was that they were in high good humour and + laughed like maniacs. He hadn't the faintest notion what it was all about, + but he began to laugh shrilly. He couldn't help it. He certainly didn't + feel like laughing. The president was slapping Mr. Force on the back and + shouting things that fell upon deaf ears, for Mr. Force was shouting + manfully on his own account. The cashier stumbled over a chair in trying + to get at Mr. Bingle to grasp his hand, and the chairman of the board + began pounding the helpless bookkeeper on the shoulder with a hand that + had all of the weight and some of the resilience of a sledge hammer. + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Sigsbee who finally settled down to a succinct, intelligent + question, and at once had Mr. Bingle's attention. + </p> + <p> + "Didn't you receive my letter in the morning post?" he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle no doubt intended to repeat the word "letter," being vaguely + impressed by its significance, but what he uttered was a mystified, + syllable-less "le'r?" + </p> + <p> + "I wrote to say that if it suited your convenience to come to our offices + this afternoon at three, I would see to it that the other heirs were + present, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "My wife's illness—" began Mr. Bingle hazily, and then brought + himself up with a jerk. Heirs? What in the world was the man talking + about? "I—I beg pardon, sir. I didn't quite catch that. What—" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sigsbee held up his hand, silencing him. Then he turned to the other + gentlemen and said in a strained, excited voice: + </p> + <p> + "I suspect, gentlemen, that it would be better if I were to have a few + minutes alone with Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Right!" exclaimed Mr. Force, regarding the bookkeeper with what seemed to + be infinite compassion in his eyes. "Stay right where you are, Sigsbee. + We'll get out," and he literally shoved the others out of the office, + closing the president's door behind him. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Mr. Bingle," said Sigsbee, drawing a chair up close to the little + man's knee, "I want the truth. Have you no—" + </p> + <p> + "Before heaven, Mr. Sigsbee, I—I swear I am innocent of—" + </p> + <p> + "Have you no inkling of what has befallen you?" concluded the other. + </p> + <p> + "No, sir, I haven't," declared Mr. Bingle with conviction. + </p> + <p> + "Well, my dear sir," said Sigsbee, laying his hand upon Bingle's knee and + speaking with grave impressiveness, "your late and lamented uncle, Joseph + Hooper, in his will, devises that you are his principal—I might + almost say, his sole heir. He has left practically everything to you, sir. + I—I pray you, be calm. Do not allow this astonishing, this + prodigious—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, with a huge sigh of relief and a sudden + relaxing of all his taut nerves, "I know all about THAT, Mr. Sigsbee. Is + that all?" + </p> + <p> + "All?" with a stare of amazement. + </p> + <p> + "We often joked about it, poor old Uncle Joe and I. He seemed to enjoy a + chuckle once in awhile, in spite of the way the world had used him." + </p> + <p> + "I now realise that you are quite ignorant about the whole matter, Mr. + Bingle. My letter would have enlightened you, of course, but as you did + not receive it, I fear that—" + </p> + <p> + "I didn't open my letters this morning. Quite forgot 'em, sir. You see, + Mrs. Bingle came down with a fearful—" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Sigsbee. "Perhaps it would be well for me to + describe myself a little more clearly to you, Mr. Bingle. I am of the firm + of Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim, lawyers. We have been acting for Mr. + Hooper for the past six months, or, in other words, since his return to + New York City. Our relations were or a—er—a somewhat Secret + nature, I may say. He made the somewhat Extraordinary demand upon us, at + the time we were Retained, that we should conduct his affairs with the + Utmost secrecy. Especially, ser, were we required to Keep you in the dark + as to the real—" + </p> + <p> + "Just a moment, sir," interrupted Mr. Bingle, sitting up very straight, + and staring. "May I ask one questions? Are you sure you haven't got my + Uncle Joe confused with another Joseph Hooper? To my certain knowledge, he + had no transactions with lawyers while staying at my house. You've got the + wrong man, sir, I—" "I've got the right man, Mr. Bingle," said the + lawyer, with a smile. "Your uncle was a strange man. Have you never heard + of Joseph H. Grimwell?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. Every one has heard of him." + </p> + <p> + "Well, your uncle was Joseph H. Grimwell, the millionaire mine-owner and + lumber king. For fifteen years the name of Joseph Grimwell took the place + of—I beg your pardon! I did not mean to put it so abruptly, sir. + Calm yourself! I—" + </p> + <p> + "All right," said Mr. Bingle, suddenly collapsing into the chair after + struggling to his feet, his eyes bulging. "All right. I'm—I'm calm. + Go on with the story. You can't expect me to believe it, however. How on + earth could poor old Uncle Joe Hooper, who was actually starving when he + came to me last—" + </p> + <p> + "That is the best part of the story, Mr. Bingle," said Sigsbee, settling + back in his chair and linking his plump hands benevolently across his + expansive and somewhat overhanging waistcoat. "That is the best part of + the story, sir." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V — THE STORY OF JOSEPH + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Bingle went home in a taxi-cab, completely done up. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Back in 1885, Joseph Hooper, disgraced, disowned by his family and as poor + Job's turkey, made a brief but sufficiently explicit will in which he + named his beloved nephew Thomas Singleton Bingle as his sole heir. He drew + it up on the surface of a fresh, unused postal card, and had it properly + witnessed by the bailiff who came to Bingle's apartment to demand his + appearance before a court to show cause why he should not consider himself + in contempt for having disregarded the order to pay monthly sums in the + shape of alimony to his late but unlamented wife. + </p> + <p> + In looking about for the second witness, he observed a levying deputy + sheriff in the act of carrying off his last and only possession of value, + to wit: a gold-headed cane that had been left to him by his father. With a + fine sense of irony, he persuaded the aforesaid deputy sheriff to affix + his signature to the will, and then remarked with deep sarcasm that he had + "put his house in order" so far as it was in his power to do so. Inasmuch + as the deputy sheriff was making way with what looked to be his entire + estate, saving the clothes upon his back and the post-card (which he had + taken the precaution to address to his lawyers, thereby securing its + protection by the United States Government), Mr. Hooper's last will and + testament as uttered on the 16th day of October, 1885, was necessarily + brief and succinct. It merely said: + </p> + <p> + "I hereby revoke any former will I may have made prior to this date, and + now bequeath to my beloved nephew, Thomas Singleton Bingle, my entire + fortune, which at this time appears to be not my face but my figure. I + therefore bequeath to him my physical person, and vest in him the right to + chuck it into the river, or to dispose of it for medical purposes, as he + may see fit, provided however that I shall first have been declared + sufficiently dead by competent judges. I also bequeath to him any + property, great or small, that may be in my possession at the time of my + demise, even though it be no more than the collar-button with which he so + kindly supplied me this morning, and which I shall always retain as a mark + of his devotion, knowing well what it means for a man to deprive himself + of a cherished belonging." + </p> + <p> + This was written in a very fine, cramped hand, and there was ample room at + the bottom for his own signature and those of the witnesses, although it + must be said that the elegant symmetry of the document was destroyed by + the bulging scrawl of the bailiff, whose name was Abraham Kosziemanowski + and who had to turn the final two syllables down at a sharp angle in order + to get the whole of his signature on the card. + </p> + <p> + Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim, on the receipt of this jocose + instrument, immediately communicated with their once magnificent client, + who laconically instructed them to put it away in a very safe place as it + might come in handy some time. To their own and to his subsequent + surprise, they DID put it away in a safe place, but forgot all about it + until he walked in upon them fifteen years afterwards and revealed himself + as the great and only Joseph H. Grimwell. + </p> + <p> + Having once disinherited his children, he was then in the mood to + reconsider his act, being alive to the fact that his days were numbered. + But he went about the business with the sagacity of an old dog who has + been kicked hard by some one who was not his master. Instead of + proclaiming himself to be the Midas-like Joseph Grimwell, he appeared + before his son and daughters, as poor old Joseph Hooper, their long lost + father, as poor—nay, even poorer than when he went away, for he had + lost the rugged health that was his only possession at the beginning of + his vicissitudes. + </p> + <p> + Assuming a condition of abject, though genteel poverty, he went to each of + them in turn. He wanted to give them a chance to reconsider, as he had + done. But they would have none of him! Vastly dismayed by the failure of + his nice little scheme to trick them into filial responsibility, he was on + the point of shouting his denunciations from the house-tops when he + suddenly remembered Tom Bingle: he wondered if Tom would receive him—an + old derelict—with open arms. + </p> + <p> + He presented himself, with his battered valise, at the door of Thomas + Bingle's apartment—and was given a warm, even hearty reception! + </p> + <p> + And it was on that day—at that very hour, so to speak—that + Thomas Bingle became a fabulously rich man without the slightest effort or + intention on his part. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hooper one day recalled to mind the postal-card will. If his memory + served him right there was something jocose and undignified about it—something + that would not look well in the public prints. He visited the offices of + his lawyers, recovered the amazing instrument, and forthwith set about to + make a new will, bereft of certain grewsome stipulations but quite as + sweeping in purpose as the other had been. In fact, he left his fortune—as + he had done before—to his beloved nephew, Thomas Singleton Bingle, + with three precautionary bequests to his son and daughters, providing + against the contests that were sure to follow. He bequeathed the sum of + one thousand dollars to each of his children, and he signed his name once + more as Joseph H. Hooper—for the first time in fourteen years. + </p> + <p> + His wanderings as a tramp—in his own account of himself he used the + word "tramp" with a shocking lack of pride—led him inevitably into + the far Northwest. Men were doing things up there. The country fairly + seethed with the activity of live, virile men who were taking the first + staunch grip upon the tricky wheel of fortune and were turning it to their + own account. Every man was building; no man complained of conditions, for + conditions were so new and so ready to hand that he who found fault was + merely lessening his own chance to secure his share of the vast resources + that spread before him, welcoming the greedy fingers of him who courted + the future and shunned the past. All men lived in the present out there in + the great stretches, and all men were strong and eager. + </p> + <p> + Joseph Hooper caught the fever that infected the West. He shook off the + fetters that bound him to a far from enchanted East, and began to squirm + with the first tickling sensations of an ambition that had never really + made itself felt, even in the old days of successful achievement among men + who were content to tread the beaten and commonplace highway toward + riches. The spirit of the West gripped him in its great, enveloping hands, + picked him out of the slough and set him down again, plump upon his two + feet, high and dry, prodding him violently all the while with a spur that + would not permit him to stop or to take a step backward, with the natural + result that he moved forward—slowly, dazedly at first, and then with + a mighty rush. + </p> + <p> + He had one advantage over most of the men who were being driven + helter-skelter by the grateful lash of the West: he was a trained + money-getter. Back of him were generations of shrewd business men, while + dormant in his own being was the half-stunned thing called natural + ability. The simple shrewdness of Joseph Hooper, combined with a certain + hitherto unconfessed lack of respect for the Golden Rule, to say nothing + of a vain-glorious desire to kick the world that had kicked him, soon + produced opportunities that paved the way for his rehabilitation. + </p> + <p> + Without a dollar to his name, with nothing in the shape of resources save + a self-sufficient nerve and an infinite eastern contempt for these + struggling westerners, he began to promote things! + </p> + <p> + The field was fresh and fertile. Inside of two years he reaped a + half-dozen harvests—and replanted as he went along! First, he + promoted a street railway in a place called Mockawock; then it became + necessary for some one to establish reasons for the existence of such a + thing as a car-line in a town that could be traversed on foot, from one + end to the other, in less than eight minutes; so he began to promote the + organisation of a wagon factory at one extreme and a pickle works at the + other, possessing the far-sightedness to put them so far away from each + other that if one wanted to go to the pickle works from the wagon factory, + or vice versa, he would have to go by trolley unless he possessed the + hardiness of an ox and was not dismayed by the vastness of the city + limits. For like all towns in the great Northwest, Mockawock had its + limits and they were wide enough to make New York or Chicago appear + cramped by comparison. One could walk for hours in a straight line south + from the public square in Mockawock and still not be "out in the country," + figuratively speaking, although he might not see a house or a human being—unless + he turned his head—after the first ten minutes. He could also walk + west or north in the same futile effort to get out of the "city" into the + "country," but he could not walk east for more than two city blocks. + Mockawock happened to be situated on the shores of Lake Superior and not + even the most boastful citizen would have contended that the city limits + reached far in that direction. + </p> + <p> + And, having successfully promoted such enterprises in Mockawock as would + tend to convince the citizens that some day the city limits would have to + be extended, he very wisely took the gains acquired in the sale of + options, the disposal of franchises, the surrender of equities, and all + such, and slipped away to the vast forests in the north, where he bought + timber-land by the section. + </p> + <p> + Another town required stirring up by this time, so he descended upon it, + backed by the reputation gained at Mockawock and, before the citizens + could say Jack Robinson, he had skilfully promoted a number of + enterprises, including a belt railroad, an electric lighting plant, and a + new evening newspaper, all of which fairly set the town by the ears and + made him one of the most important figures in the upper Lake region. + </p> + <p> + Once more he slipped off into the forests and took unto himself additional + sections of virgin timber at inconceivably low prices. Other men made much + of the wheat-field and the town-lot, but Joseph Hooper saw fortune in the + forests. Again and again he increased his timber land holdings. People + thought he was buying up town-sites and smiled smugly among themselves as + they discussed the dreadful shock he was to have when the time came for + him to begin clearing away the timber! + </p> + <p> + All this time he was known as Joseph H. Grimwell. There was no such person + as Joseph Hooper. That discredited individual had died, so to speak, by + the wayside, a vagabond. New York had lost track of him; his family + believed him to be dead—or in prison! It is barely possible that he + ought to have been incarcerated for some of his skilfully manipulated + enterprises, but that has nothing to do with this narrative. It is + relevant to dwell only upon the contention that riches come swiftly to him + who makes use of both hands without caring whether the left knows what the + right is doing or the other way about. At any rate, Joseph Grimwell was a + better man than Joseph Hooper ever had been, and he was a wiser man in + many respects than Solomon the historic. + </p> + <p> + In brief, there came a day when his timber turned to gold. The name of + Grimwell became a household word. It even penetrated to the secret + crannies of Wall Street. Men who did not know oak from soft pine began to + plead with him to be "let in on the ground floor." Gentlemen who sat in + mahogany offices and worshipped at unseen shrines, took notice of this man + of the West who was getting more than his share of the pillage. Promoters + sought him out and haggled with him—haggled with the prince of + promoters! They tried to let him into the secret of making money! + </p> + <p> + Fortune may not always favour the brave, but it continues to do a little + something every now and then for the bold. In Joseph Grimwell's case, it + overlooked the fact that he was neither brave nor bold but rewarded him + for being interestingly tricky. Out of sheer respect for his cleverness in + acquiring all of the timber land available, Fortune set about to outdo him + in productiveness. It suddenly remembered that it had placed three rich + copper deposits in separate and distinct parts of his land and kindly + directed him to the spots. + </p> + <p> + Now, copper can be turned into gold quite as readily as ice, or beef, or + hops, or any of the products of man's experimentation, just as one can + make hay while the sun shines, even though his field of activity lies at + the bottom of an oil-well. Mr. Grimwell made gold out of his copper, just + as he made it out of oak and pine and ash, and when he came to be three + score years and ten he had so many dollars that, like Old Mother Hubbard, + he didn't know what to do with them. + </p> + <p> + It suddenly dawned upon him that there was no one to whom he could leave + this vast accumulation unless he made peace with his past. + </p> + <p> + He sold out all of his holdings, reducing everything to coin of the realm, + and once more became a wanderer in search of a place to lay his head. With + fourteen or fifteen millions of dollars in his purse, so to speak, he + slunk into New York, a beggar still and hungrier than he had ever been in + his life. + </p> + <p> + Then he tried out the plan that failed. His lawyer and his doctor alone + knew that Joseph Grimwell and Joseph Hooper were one and the same person, + and they were pledged to secrecy. One of them drew up his will and the + other made death as easy as possible for him. His nephew, poor wretch, + buried him in a grave alongside a devoted sister, froze his ears while + doing so—and lost his job in the bank besides! + </p> + <p> + The new will was read in the offices of Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim + on the day following Mr. Bingle's first ride in a taxi-cab. The heir was + too bewildered to attend the meeting arranged for the same afternoon, and + it had to be postponed. As a matter of fact, he sent word to the lawyers + that his wife was too ill to come down that afternoon but would doubtless + be better on the following day. When informed that his wife's presence was + unnecessary and that his cousins were even then on their way down town and + that there was no way to head them off, he blandly inquired if it wouldn't + be possible to postpone the whole matter for a week or two, assuring the + gentlemen that he wouldn't, for all the world, disturb Mrs. Bingle, who + appeared to be sleeping comfortably for the first time in twenty-four + hours. In fact, he informed them that he thought it would be a mistake to + break the news to her while her cold was so bad; as for himself, he didn't + mind waiting a week or two—not in the least—if it was all the + same to Mr. Sigsbee. + </p> + <p> + It was Melissa who broke the news to Mrs. Bingle, and it was at once + apparent that it was not a mistake to do so. The good lady improved so + rapidly that she sent for the expensive Dr. Fiddler, dismissing the cheap + Dr. Smith, and by seven o'clock that evening declared that she had never + felt better in all of her life. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you'll fire me now, Mr. Bingle," Melissa had said dejectedly. + "With all that money, you'll be wanting high-priced servants." + </p> + <p> + "Quite so," said Mr. Bingle magnificently. "Much higher-priced, Melissa." + </p> + <p> + "You'll never find any one that loves you more than I do," began Melissa, + on the verge of tears. + </p> + <p> + "Allow me," interrupted Mr. Bingle, with a sweep of the hand. "The highest + priced servant in our employ is to be Melissa Taylor, which is you, my + girl. We shall probably keep two or three servants—if we can find + anything for them to do—but none of 'em shall receive as much as + you, Melissa. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." + </p> + <p> + "I—I wasn't asking for a raise, sir," murmured Melissa, in + considerable distress. + </p> + <p> + "You get it without asking," said Mr. Bingle. It should be remembered that + he was still very much dazed and bewildered. + </p> + <p> + "Maybe you'll be having a butler and a regular chef. They come pretty + high, sir," advised Melissa, spilling a little of Mrs. Bingle's tea on the + counterpane. "Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind, Melissa," said Mr. Bingle. "I guess we can afford to spill a + little tea if we like. I've no doubt that a butler would spill a great + deal. It doesn't matter what we have to pay him—if we have him—you + shall have five dollars a month more than he gets. That's settled." + </p> + <p> + The least important person at the "reading of the will" was the little man + who sat hunched up in a chair and gazed about him with perplexed eyes, + occasionally touching his sore ears with tender fingers, and always + regretting the act for the reason that it called the attention of his + cousins to something that appeared to gratify them a great deal more than + the actual business at hand. In fact, he never quite got over that + miserable hour of inspection on their part. He never ceased to regret the + condition of his ears on that stupendous occasion. What might have been a + really impressive hour in his life was spoiled by the certainty that every + one was paying more attention to his misfortune than to his fortune. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the conditions of the will were pretty well known to the three + children of Joseph Hooper, hours before they were read to them. They knew + that their detestable father had practically disinherited them, but they + were not prepared for the staggering baseness employed by the old man in + giving his reasons for cutting them off. To their chagrin, mortification, + even shame, they were compelled to listen to at least a dozen letters that + they had written to their father during the period covered by his supposed + degeneracy. The originals of these letters, stained, dirty, frazzled but + incontrovertibly genuine, were attached to the instrument, and were + referred to in certain specific recommendations incorporated in the body + of the will itself. + </p> + <p> + Old Joseph had preserved the letters of his children. They were emphatic + evidences of their attitude toward him from first to last. There was no + such thing as going behind them. It might be possible to produce proof + that the testator was unsound of mind, but it would never be possible to + wipe out the written declarations of his mentally perfect son and + daughters. In these delectable missives they completely disowned him as a + father; they raked him fore and aft; they riddled him with a hundred + shafts of scorn; they repeatedly said that they never wanted to see his + face again; they put him out of their lives and urgently requested him to + put them out of his; they expected nothing of him and they certainly did + not want him to expect anything of them; and so on and so forth. And in + spite of all these bitter rebukings, old Joseph had come back to New York + ready and willing to let bygones be bygones if they would only meet him + half way. + </p> + <p> + Geoffrey declared in so many words that his father had played a scurvy + trick on all of them. He managed to give utterance to this violent opinion + before his attorney could check his unnecessary eloquence. After that, + Geoffrey, subdued and desolate, kept extremely quiet and suffered + considerably under the convicting gaze of his sisters and their husbands, + all of whom were inclined to disown him there and then as a brother for + his reckless implication that their father was as sane as any of them. + </p> + <p> + Thomas Singleton Bingle was to receive, in round figures, fifteen million + dollars under the will of his uncle, after the funeral expenses and all + just debts had been paid. It was really quite staggering. If Thomas + Singleton Bingle had not been so completely wrapped up in his ears, it is + certain that he would have acted as any other intelligent human being + would have acted at a time like this. He would have gone stark, staring + mad. + </p> + <p> + But wait! After all, he DID become a bit daffy. Observing the desolated, + crushed attitude of his three cousins, his honest heart smote him sorely. + He piped up from the depths of his chair and announced that all he wanted + out of the estate was the amount that he had actually expended in caring + for Uncle Joe during the past few months. He would be satisfied with that + and—But he got no farther. Mr. Sigsbee hastened to remind him that + he hadn't anything to say about it. He didn't have a voice in the matter. + And then Angela and Elizabeth scornfully observed that it was a pretty + time to talk about that sort of thing, after he had so skilfully succeeded + in influencing their poor, mentally unbalanced father to make a will like + this one. + </p> + <p> + Right heroically, Mr. Bingle declared that he was willing to give all of + his inheritance to any deserving charity, or charities, reserving, if no + one objected, a sufficient amount to enable him to purchase a little farm + on which he could spend the rest of his days and not have to go on forever + as a bookkeeper in a bank. + </p> + <p> + "Bosh!" said Geoffrey Hooper, glaring at his rich cousin. + </p> + <p> + "Ridiculous!" cried Angela and Elizabeth, transfixing Mr. Bingle with + glittering eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Very well," said Mr. Bingle, arising hastily. "Let it be bosh and + ridiculous, just as you like. I would have been willing to take this small + amount, just as I have said, and, what's more, I might have been willing + to divide the estate into four equal parts—if Mr. Sigsbee would let + me do it—but now I'll be damned if I'll do anything for either of + you. You don't deserve a nickel, not one of you. You had your chance and + you didn't take it. I fed and clothed and housed your father and I stood + ready to spend my last dollar to make his last few days on earth + comfortable and easy. I buried him. I went to his funeral. I took the + chance of losing my job by doing so. I froze my ears—oh, look at + 'em! I don't care. And now you—you three! You can go to the devil, + with my compliments as well as Uncle Joe's. Come along, Mary! Let's get + out of this. We've got fifteen million dollars coming to us, and we don't + have to sit here and be insulted by people to whom we have offered + charity. Good day, Mr. Sigsbee. If you want me for anything, you'll find + me at the bank. Now, be sure you wrap your throat up carefully, Mary. + Don't take any chances. You look as though you were overheated." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sigsbee followed them into the corridor, where he shook hands with the + indignant heir. + </p> + <p> + "Your troubles have just begun, Mr. Bingle," he said, with a genial smile. + </p> + <p> + "How's that?" + </p> + <p> + "We'll have a long, bitter fight on our hands, but—we'll win. There + will be a contest, you see." + </p> + <p> + "All right," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes snapping. "I'm ready. I stood by + Uncle Joe when he was alive, you can bet your last dollar I'm not going + back on him now that he's dead." + </p> + <p> + That evening, sitting over the crackling grate fire, Mr. Bingle broke a + long period of silence by remarking to his wife: + </p> + <p> + "I dare say we can afford to adopt one or two, Mary, with all this money + we're going to have." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI — THE HONOURABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE + </h2> + <p> + Time flies. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + It is another Christmas Eve, ten years later than the one described in the + opening chapter of this narrative. The Honourable Thomas Singleton Bingle + is preparing for his annual reading of "The Christmas Carol." The + sentiment which influences him on this occasion is the same that inspired + the habit in his days of long ago, but the surroundings have changed. Now + the vast drawing-room in the home of Mr. Bingle provides the setting for + an elaborate observance of a custom that has become almost historic to + those who have studied the life and habits of Mr. Bingle. An imposing + English butler, assisted by two able footmen and the head gardener of the + estate, are employed in the final decoration of the huge room. For seven + or eight years they have performed these Christmas Eve duties in the + mansion on the Sound. Melissa, a trifle more buxom than in the days of the + lower West Side apartment but quite as capable despite her secret + knowledge that she receives a greater salary than the mighty Diggs, is + superintending the hanging of a row of stockings along the mantel-ledge, + stockings of variegated hues and distinguishing sizes. + </p> + <p> + There are eleven children in the family now. They range from one year up + to twelve. Kathleen and Frederick divide the distinction of seniority, + both being twelve. There is some doubt as to the actual age of Henrietta + and Guinevere, but for the sake of policy, Henrietta, who came first, is + down in the family records as six, Guinevere as five, although Mrs. Bingle + herself confesses that they came but six weeks apart, and at a time when a + few weeks, either way, make little or no difference in the computation. + This was the nearest that Mr. and Mrs. Bingle ever came to being blessed + with twins. For awhile they hoped that they could make twins out of these + infants, but, as the children grew older, the impracticability of such a + thought—or ambition—became clear to them, and they reluctantly + abandoned the project. Henrietta revealed all the characteristics of being + of Italian extraction, while Guinevere was unmistakably Irish. + </p> + <p> + If you were to take a motor-ride along the North Shore of Long Island + Sound and feel your way back into private lanes that appear to lead + nowhere in particular, they are so deviously circuitous, you would pass by + the lodge gates of two magnificent estates. One of them belonged to Mr. + Bingle, the other to Sydney Force—or, more strictly speaking, to + Mrs. Sydney Force. It is worthy of mention that Mr. Force lived up to his + theory of regeneration by selling to Mr. Bingle, at a tremendous profit, + one hundred acres off of the least desirable end of his late + father-in-law's estate, thereby proving to himself that the early bird is + a much smarter creation than the one which is satisfied to possess a mere + nest-egg. Of course, the selling of that "parcel" of land was provocative + of most acrimonious disputes between Mr. and Mrs. Force. Mrs. Force, while + not averse to the sale of the land, was frightfully cut up by the fact + that she was to have the impossible Bingles as neighbours, and Mr. Force, + who was the prince of snobs, berated her soundly for petty snobbishness. + </p> + <p> + "Bingle is such a hopelessly common name," she said. + </p> + <p> + "It happens to be a proper name," remarked Mr. Force, resorting to a + rather lame sort of wit. + </p> + <p> + "If it only had been Mrs. Bransone or Mrs. Mortimer," she sighed. "They + are awfully smart, don't you know. One meets them everywhere." + </p> + <p> + "We couldn't have sold that piece of land to either one of 'em," said he. + "They are much too smart for that." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle erected a very costly and magnificent house, much against his + will, and spent a great deal of time thereafter in wishing that he was + back in the five-room apartment where he could put his hand on anything he + wanted without having to call for a servant to tell him where to find it. + He was so stupendously rich and so completely awed by the importance of + being acquainted with Mrs. Force that he became a most desirable + neighbour, from that lady's point of view. She experienced a great deal of + pleasure in association with a man who could be made to feel as small as + he gave every sign of being when in her august presence. It was really a + joy to her. With all his money, he could not induce his wife's gowns to + hang as Mrs. Force's hung; he could not make her boots fit as neatly, nor + her hats sit as naturally; he could not buy style or majesty for Mrs. + Bingle. So he was the kind of neighbour to have. Any woman will tell you + that. + </p> + <p> + Diggs was telling Watson, the footman, just where to put the mistletoe. + Watson's position was precarious. He was at the top of a step-ladder, + struggling to reach the lowest crystal pendant on the enormous chandelier, + and the ladder was wobbling. + </p> + <p> + "It's all tommy-rot," muttered Watson, apropos of nothing that had gone + before. + </p> + <p> + "Wot's all tommy-rot?" demanded Mr. Diggs severely. + </p> + <p> + "Christmas Eve," said Watson. "I have no objection to Christmas morning, + but 'ang me if I can see any sense in Christmas Eve. What's it good for, + anyway?" + </p> + <p> + "You'd better get a taller ladder," said Mr. Diggs. "It's getting on + towards 'alf-past eight. We can't be all night 'anging that bunch of + mistletoe, you know." + </p> + <p> + Melissa paused in her work long enough to devote an appraising look upon + Watson. + </p> + <p> + "You look very handsome up there, Watson. It gives you a very good height. + Straighten your legs out a bit. If you stand up as straight as you can + you'll be as tall as Mr. Diggs THINKS he is." + </p> + <p> + "See here, my fine lady," began Diggs, annoyed. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I beg pardon, Mr. Diggs," cried Melissa. "I didn't see you." + </p> + <p> + "You'll get your walking papers if you don't keep your place," said Diggs + ominously. + </p> + <p> + "And I'll keep my place if I don't get my walking papers," retorted + Melissa, airily. + </p> + <p> + "And what's more," went on the butler, "you'll get the sack anyway if you + don't stop filling the kids up with them yarns of yours. The nurses were + telling Mrs. Bingle that the children didn't go to sleep for hours last + night, they were that scared." + </p> + <p> + "Seeing ghosts, dragons and goblins all night long," said Hughes, the + second footman, shoving a big chair into position. Chairs from all parts + of the house had been brought to the drawing-room and arranged in a + semi-circle in front of the huge fireplace, at one corner of which stood + Mr. Bingle's reading lamp, accurately placed at the edge of a costly + little Italian table. There were big chairs and little chairs, soft chairs + and hard ones, chairs of velvet and chairs of silk, chairs of ancient + needle-point and chairs that could not be sat upon. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't tell any ghost stories yesterday," said Melissa. "I told 'em + about robbers and kidnappers." + </p> + <p> + "Get the ladder, Watson," said Diggs. "What are you standing there for? Do + you think it's a pedestal you're on?" + </p> + <p> + "I just wanted to say that three of the kids saw sea-serpents and + crocodiles in their dreams—" + </p> + <p> + "Don't lay it to me, Watson," broke in Melissa. "I'm not to blame if they + had delirium tremens. I didn't give them anything to drink." + </p> + <p> + "I—I shall have to speak to Mrs. Bingle about you, Melissa," + exclaimed Diggs severely. + </p> + <p> + "Do! She is always complimented when you condescend to speak to her, Mr. + Diggs." + </p> + <p> + "Don't scrap," put in the gardener mildly. "Remember it's Christmas Eve." + </p> + <p> + "Oy-yoy!" groaned Watson. "We've all got to listen to Mr. Bingle read + Dickens again. It will be the sixth time I've 'eard The Christmas Carol in + this 'ere room." He departed in quest of the tall step-ladder, banging + Hughes on the shins with the small one as he swung past. + </p> + <p> + Hughes said something under his breath and then, with a quick glance at + Melissa, went on: "I will say this for the old boy, he makes Christmas a + merry one for all of us." + </p> + <p> + "Must I remind you again, Hughes, not to speak of the master as 'the old + boy'? Please remember that you were engaged as a TRAINED servant." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'd have you to know, Mr. Diggs, that I'm not one of your bally + English servants. I'm as good an American as any one, and I say what I + please." + </p> + <p> + "You were engaged as an English footman. I distinctly told you that at the + intelligence office when I engaged you. You may be as American as you + please on your days out, but while you are on duty in this 'ouse, you've + got to be as English as I am, or—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I can drop 'em as well as any one, Mr. Diggs," said Hughes + scornfully. "'Ulloa! 'Ere comes the lidy governess!" He was peering into + the hall, the corners of his mouth drawn down in the most approved English + fashion. + </p> + <p> + Whatever may have been Mr. Bingle's taste in the selection of rugs and + furniture, he could be charged with no lack of it in his choice of a + governess for the young Bingles. Miss Fairweather was as pretty as a + picture. In fact, you would go a long way before you found a picture as + pretty as Miss Fairweather. Her serene beauty was disturbed, however, by a + perplexed frown, as she hurriedly entered the room and paused just inside + the door for a furtive, agitated glance down the hall. + </p> + <p> + "Diggs, who is in the library with Mr. Bingle?" she inquired, + unconsciously lowering her voice as if fearing the sharpness of distant + ears. It was a very pleasing, musical voice, a fact which no one + appreciated more than Diggs, who boasted of his ability to know a lady + when he heard one. + </p> + <p> + "A newspaper chap, Miss Fairweather. To interview Mr. Bingle about the—" + (here he sighed faintly)—"about the Christmas jollities." + </p> + <p> + Miss Fairweather sent another futile look in the direction of the library. + She was plainly distressed by her failure to see through the walls that + intervened. + </p> + <p> + "What—what name did he give?" + </p> + <p> + "I can't say, Miss. I didn't quite catch it myself." + </p> + <p> + "But you must have announced him. He gave you his card or—something, + didn't he?" + </p> + <p> + "No, Miss. He announced 'imself over the telephone this afternoon. It + sounded like Blinkers, or, even more nearly, on his repeating it, like + Rasmussen. At any rate, Mr. Bingle was expecting 'im, and came out into + the 'all before I had the chance to learn his name proper, so to speak, + Miss." + </p> + <p> + She bit her lip, annoyed. "Was it Flanders, Diggs?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diggs reflected. "It was," said he. "Now that you mention it, it was. + Richard, I think." + </p> + <p> + Miss Fairweather lowered her eyes suddenly and grasped the back of a chair + as if to steady herself. The next instant, she had recovered, except that + a queer, hunted look had settled in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Diggs. Please say to Mrs. Bingle that I shall not be down + again this evening. I have a splitting headache." She moved rapidly toward + the door. + </p> + <p> + "Won't you be here for the reading, Miss?" + </p> + <p> + "No. I always cry when I hear about Tiny Tim." "Beg pardon, Miss, but as + this is your first Christmas Eve 'ere, you'll excuse me for saying that + the entire 'ousehold is expected to be present for the reading. It is a + rule, Miss. Even the cook comes up." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Diggs. Please give my message to Mrs. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Very good, Miss." + </p> + <p> + "By the way, is this Mr. Flanders tall and fair, with dark grey eyes, a + rather broad mouth and just the tiniest sort of a wave in his hair—especially + above the ears? And a small white scar on his left thumb?" + </p> + <p> + Diggs arose to the demands of the occasion, as he always did. "Yes, Miss. + Quite accurate, I'm sure. And a very pleasant voice, I may add if you + don't mind." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Diggs," said Miss Fairweather for the third time, and then + scurried across the hall and up the broad staircase, accelerating her + speed materially as the library door was thrown open and lively masculine + voices came booming up from behind her. + </p> + <p> + "Sounds like a scene from a novel," said Melissa to Diggs, "A mysterious + stranger appears to disturb the peace and quiet of our heroine. She runs + off and hides in her room, shivering with dread lest this spectre out of + her dark past—-" + </p> + <p> + "Rubbish!" said Mr. Diggs. + </p> + <p> + "Sure," said Melissa. "That's what most novels are. It's my opinion that + that young lady's been on the stage, Mr. Diggs. She acts just like an + actress. I've noticed that in her from the beginning. And the other day + she had a letter from a theatrical manager. I saw the name on the + envelope." + </p> + <p> + "I dare say," observed Diggs, inattentively. Watson appeared with the tall + step-ladder. "Be a bit lively, Watson. I 'ear Mr. Bingle in the 'all. Go + and open the door for Mr. Flanders, Hughes." + </p> + <p> + Melissa happened to be standing directly beneath the mistletoe. Hughes + took advantage of an opportunity that has become historic. Then he passed + swiftly out of the room, followed by Melissa's astonished: "Oh, you!" + Watson came nimbly down the ladder and emulated the example of the + astonishing Hughes quite before Melissa could recover herself. He received + a resounding smack in return, but from the young woman's open hand. + </p> + <p> + "Don't stand under it," he grumbled ruefully, "unless you want to play the + game." + </p> + <p> + "I'll stand under it as long as I please," said Melissa defiantly, + planting herself firmly on the spot from which Watson had hastily removed + the ladder. She faced Mr. Diggs. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diggs coloured. He cleared his throat and then glared at Watson, who + went grinning from the room. Melissa was a very pretty, rosy young woman, + and her eyes flashed dangerously. + </p> + <p> + "It's a fine old custom," said Mr. Diggs persuasively. "In merry England + we hobserve it—er—you might say religiously, and without fear + of future complications. It can be done in a dignified fashion if—" + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to have it done in a dignified fashion," protested Melissa, + lifting her round little chin and pursing her lips invitingly. "Do it as + if you liked it, not as if you wanted to be religious." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diggs became human at once. He laid aside his austerity, and was no + longer a butler but a good-looking chap of thirty-five who had the "very + Old Nick" in him. It was the sort of kiss that has nothing in common with + mistletoe—the sort that DOES lead to future complications. It proved + something to Melissa, and she uttered a little sigh of happiness. Mr. + Diggs kissed her because he was in love with her. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, Mr. Bingle entered the room at the very instant of least + resistance, and coughed. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I—I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, genuinely + distressed. It is worthy of note that it was the good little man who + apologised, not Diggs. + </p> + <p> + As the master was accompanied by the tall young newspaper chap, who + grinned abominably, both Diggs and Melissa forgot their moment of bliss + and fell from a great height. Needless to say, they were speechless. + </p> + <p> + "It's quite all right, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle, affecting a vast + geniality. "What's a mistletoe for if not to—yes, yes, Melissa, it's + quite all right. Ahem! Don't you agree with me, Mr. Flanders?" + </p> + <p> + "Thoroughly," said Mr. Flanders with conviction. "And what's more, Mr. + Bingle, I agree with Diggs." + </p> + <p> + Melissa, crimson to her throat, fled. Mr. Diggs passed his hand over his + brow, as if to clear his brain, and then stammered in a voice that strove + hard to regain its former impressiveness: + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir, it—it is all right, sir. Quite all right, sir. As right + as can be, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Right as rain," proclaimed Mr. Bingle, resorting to a habit of imitation + that had marked his progress during the past few years of observation. He + had heard the imposing Diggs say it, many times over. It was quite the + proper thing to say, of course—apparently on any and all occasions—but, + for the life of him, Mr. Bingle couldn't grasp the significance of the + simile. "And now, Diggs, THAT being settled, is everything else all + right?" He surveyed the great, gaily bedecked room with an eye that took + in the smallest detail. + </p> + <p> + "I think so, sir," said Diggs, slowly recovering. "You will hobserve, sir, + that I have added the necessary new chair—the 'igh-chair over here, + sir, for little Miss Him—Imogene." + </p> + <p> + "I see. We make it a point, Mr. Flanders, to get a new baby at least once + a year. The first year, as I explained, we had three. Two or three years + ago, one came in May and another in September." + </p> + <p> + "Mental arithmetic gives you twelve in all," said young Mr. Flanders. + </p> + <p> + "Eleven. We lost one in 1906. Little Harriet." + </p> + <p> + "Eleanor, sir, begging your pardon," corrected Diggs. + </p> + <p> + "Right. Thank you, Diggs. Malnutrition. We never should have had her. + There goes the door-bell, Tell Mrs. Bingle that Mr. and Mrs. Force have + arrived, and give Mr. Force a drink before she comes down." + </p> + <p> + "Very good, sir." Diggs retired with gravity. + </p> + <p> + "President of our bank, you know. Mr. Sydney Force," explained Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "I know. The husband of Mrs. Sydney Force," said Flanders, a twinkle in + his grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, Mr. Flanders. I'd ask you to have a cigar, but the nurses say + that smoke isn't good for the children. Force always smokes here. I can't + tell him not to, you see. He wouldn't come again." In that bit of + ingenuousness, Mr. Bingle exposed the family state of mind in respect to + their aristocratic neighbours. "Now, this is where we have the reading. + Permit me to call your attention to the way we arrange the—er—the + auditorium, you might say. That's where I sit—over there. I'm glad + you've decided to stay and hear The Christmas Carol. It will do you good, + Mr. Flanders. You'll be a better man for it. There is a train in at + nine-fifty-five. We'll not be interrupted here, so fire away. I'm ready to + be interviewed." + </p> + <p> + They seated themselves on the broad, luxurious couch that marked the + precise centre of the semi-circle and was evidently intended to be the + section of honour. Mr. Bingle leaned back, stretched out his slender legs, + crossed his feet, and looked over his tortoise-shell glasses with a fine + assumption of tolerance. He was still trying, after many years, to enjoy + his own importance. Sad to relate, he still expected to wake up and find + that he had but half an hour in which to eat his breakfast and get across + town to the bookkeeper's stool he had occupied the day before. He + sometimes felt of his ears reminiscently, for they seemed in some way to + clearly connect him with his last waking hours. He never quite got over + listening for the alarm clock. + </p> + <p> + At fifty-three, he was no older in appearance than when he was + forty-three. If anything, he seemed younger, for the harassed, care-worn + expression had disappeared, leaving him bland, benign of countenance, + although the same imperishable wrinkles lined his pinched cheeks. He was + just as careless about his sparse hair as in the days of old. It was never + by any chance sleek and orderly. The habit of running his fingers through + his thatch still clung to him, significant reminder of the perplexities + that filled his daily life over the ledgers and day-books. In all other + respects, however, he was a re-made man. + </p> + <p> + His trim little frame was clothed in expensive garments; his patent + leather pumps were the handiwork of the most fashionable of bootmakers, + and quite uncomfortable; his hosiery was of the finest silk and his + watch-chain was of platinum; there were pearl studs in his unpolished + shirt front and four shining black buttons on his neat white waistcoat; + his clawhammer coat had a velvet collar and fitted him about the shoulders + as if it had been constructed for a man who possessed much more of a + figure than he; and his trousers were primly pressed. Not the same old + Bingle outwardly, you will say, but you are wrong. He was, and always will + be, like the leopard. + </p> + <p> + A certain briskness of manner, inspired by necessity, had come to him in + these days of opulence. His position in life made its demands, and one of + the most exacting of these denied him the privileges of familiarity. He + would have liked nothing better than an hour or two a day of general + conversation with Mrs. Bingle and Melissa—say while the latter was + tidying up the library—but that was utterly out of the question + under the new order of things. He was compelled, by virtue of exaltation, + to be very crisp, succinct, positive in his treatment of the most trivial + matters; as for conversing amiably with a single servant in his + establishment, something told him more plainly than words that it would + not be tolerated—not for an instant. He would have given a great + deal to be able to just once shout a glad, cheerful, heart-felt "good + morning" to Diggs—or to any one of the servants, for that matter—but + custom and the surprising dignity of his employees compelled him to utter + the greeting in a casual, bored manner, quite as if he did it + automatically and always as if he was on the point of clearing his throat. + He sorely missed Melissa's spontaneous, even vulgar "Morning, Mist' + Bingle," and the rattle of cutlery and chinaware. Melissa had acquired a + fine but watchful dignity. She now said "good morning, sir" in the hushed, + impersonal voice of the trained servant. She never "joked" with him, as of + yore, although he was by way of knowing that she bubbled over with fun in + the regions "below stairs." + </p> + <p> + "I haven't heard The Christmas Carol since I was twelve years old," said + Richard Flanders. He had his note paper on his knee. "What I want, Mr. + Bingle, is a good Christmas story from you. We shall play it up, of + course, and—well, it ought to be good reading. Your own story, sir, + from the beginning. All about the Hooper millions and the children that + just grew." + </p> + <p> + "Something stranger than fiction, eh?" mused Mr. Bingle. "But, my dear + sir, it's such an old story, this yarn about me. The newspapers have worn + it to shreds. Suppose we leave out all reference to the Hooper millions. + If the public is as tired of those millions as I am at times, Mr. + Flanders, we'll be doing an act of charity if we leave 'em out. You will + get your best story, as you call it, by observing what happens here + to-night. No one else has ever done it for a newspaper. You are the first, + my dear sir. I am a simple man. I don't like to be in the newspapers. The + long and tiresome litigation over my poor uncle's estate has kept me more + or less in the limelight, as you fellows would say, and there have been + times when I willingly would have given up the fight if my lawyers had + allowed me to do so. But a lawyer is something you can't get rid of, once + you've got him—or he's got you, strictly speaking. My lawyers won't + allow ME to quit, and I have every reason to suspect that they won't allow + the other side to quit. However, I believe the matter is nearing an end. + The United States Supreme Court will pass on the issue just as soon as the + lawyers on both sides reach a verdict—that is to say, a verdict + acknowledging that it won't pay them to delay the business any longer. The + case of Hooper et al vs. Bingle has been going on like the Jarndyce matter + for nearly nine years. We've licked them in every court and in three + separate hearings, and my lawyers are confident the Supreme Court will + sustain the findings of the lower courts. I am a tender-hearted lunatic, + Mr. Flanders. I have made an arrangement whereby the son and two daughters + of Joseph Hooper are to be paid one million dollars each out of the + estate, just as soon as I know definitely that I have beaten them in the + court of last resort. I guess that will surprise 'em, eh?" + </p> + <p> + Flanders' eyes glittered. "Don't forget, Mr. Bingle, that you are speaking + to a newspaper man. That last statement of yours would make a sensation, + sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle sighed. "I am sure you will not take advantage of me, Mr. + Flanders. I have made a similar statement to every newspaper man who has + interviewed me, and every one of them has promised not to use it in his + paper. So far not one of them has violated his promise. I am sure, sir, + that you are no less honourable than the rest of the boys." + </p> + <p> + "I have given no promise, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Nevertheless I shall trust you not to use the statement, Mr. Flanders. + And now, let us get back to the important part of the interview." + </p> + <p> + Flanders stared hard for a few seconds, unable to comprehend the serene + faith that this little but exceedingly important man reposed in his + fellow-man. He appeared to take it for granted that this startling piece + of confidence would not be betrayed, no matter to whom it was extended. + There was something actually pathetic in his guilelessness. Mr. Richard + Flanders admittedly was staggered, and yet somewhere down in his soul he + knew there was a spark of fairness that would become a stupendous obstacle + in the path of his news-getting avarice. Of course, he was no less + honourable than the rest of the boys! + </p> + <p> + "You would be more generous toward your cousins, I fear, than they could + be toward you," said the reporter, twisting his pencil nervously. After + all, it WOULD create a sensation, this remarkable statement of Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, they would cheerfully see me rot in the poorhouse," assented Mr. + Bingle composedly. "I am not deceiving myself in regard to Geoffrey and + Angela and Lizzie—I mean Elizabeth. You won't mention what I have + just confided to you, will you, Mr. Flanders?" + </p> + <p> + Flanders sighed. He had hoped that the petition would not be put into + definite form. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly not, sir—if you—er—if you'd rather I + wouldn't," he managed to say with a fair show of alacrity. "But, gee!" The + half-muttered ejaculation spoke volumes of regret. + </p> + <p> + His host smiled complacently. It was settled, so far as he was concerned. + Mr. Flanders was to be depended upon. + </p> + <p> + "Still snowing when you came in?" he asked, quite irrelevantly but with + interest. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir—hard." + </p> + <p> + "Good! We'll have bob-sledding on the terrace for the kiddies to-morrow. I + suppose you'd like to know how we happen to have such a large and growing + family. Well, it's all very simple. It is our practice to acquire a new + baby at least once a year. On occasions we have felt called upon to make + it two, and even three, but of late it seems the more sensible plan to + limit ourselves to one. It is our idea to keep up the practice until I am + seventy-five, if God permits me to live to that age. So, you see, we will + have reared a family of thirty-three children by that time, and we will + never be without little toddlers and prattlers. I am fifty-three now, Mr. + Flanders. We are reasonably sure to have twenty-two additions to the + family. The pitiful part of getting old and decrepit lies in the fact that + one's children grow up, get married, leave home—or die—and + that is just what we are trying to guard against. On my seventy-fifth + birthday, there will be a fine, healthy two-year-old babe crying and + goo-gooing for my especial benefit, and by working backwards in your + figuring you can also credit us with a three-year-old, a four-year-old, + and so on up the line. Naturally we will have lost a goodly number of the + first-comers, but we provide against a deficit, so to speak, by this + little plan of ours. Some of the girls may not turn out as well as we + expect, however, so there is the possibility that they may remain with us + to the end, enjoying single-blessedness. The boys, of course, will marry." + </p> + <p> + "It is splendid, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders enthusiastically. "You are a + wonder." + </p> + <p> + "Not at all, not at all," protested Mr. Bingle, with a deprecatory + gesture. "I'm a selfish, conniving old rascal, that's what I am. We've + always wanted children, Mrs. Bingle and I, and we never—er—never + seemed to have 'em as other people do, so we began to look for children + that needed parents as much as we needed children. That's the whole thing + in a nut-shell. We are a bit high-handed about it, too. We never have a + child until it is past the teething age and can walk a little bit and talk + a little bit. So, you see, we manage to have 'em without the drawbacks. + That's where we are selfish and—" + </p> + <p> + "I think you're quite sensible about it, Mr. Bingle," interrupted Flanders + politely. "They say teething is awful." + </p> + <p> + "That's what they say," said Mr. Bingle, a slight frown of regret on his + brow. "Still, I should have preferred—ahem! Yes, yes! Most annoying, + I'm told. The nurses seem to know. We began adopting our children as soon + as we came into possession of my Uncle Joseph's money. Up to that time, we + had hesitated about having other people's children on our hands and minds. + Of course you'll understand that poverty could never have stood in the way + of our having children of our own. God simply did not choose to give them + to us. The old saying, 'a poor man for children,' did not work very well + in my case. Mrs. Bingle is ten years younger than I. She is a strong, + normal woman. I never could understand why—er—and neither + could she, for that matter. As soon as we came into this fortune, or, more + accurately speaking, after we had returned from our first trip to + California and a short visit to Chicago, we adopted Kathleen. She was the + daughter of a young woman who—but, never mind. We sha'n't go into + that. She was about two years old. At once it occurred to both of us that + it would be a fine idea to have a boy to grow up with her. So we called in + the stork. He happened to have a splendid, left-over, unclaimed + two-year-old boy in stock, so we took him. That was Frederick. Then, a + friend of mine—a widower who worked as a bookkeeper alongside of me, + chap named Jenkins—died very suddenly, leaving a little girl just + under eighteen months of age. That's how we got Marie Louise. And so it + goes, Mr. Flanders, right up to date. Henrietta and Guinevere are almost + twins. Six weeks between 'em. They—" + </p> + <p> + "You mean in respect to age or—" + </p> + <p> + "In respect to their arrival. Guinevere came much sooner than was + anticipated, you might say. Little Imogene came the twenty-sixth of last + September. She cries a good deal. I am inclined to think she's getting her + wisdom teeth." + </p> + <p> + "Naturally, Mrs. Bingle is keen about the idea. Saves a lot of bother." + </p> + <p> + "It's got to be such a joy having children in this way, when we please, as + often as we like, and being able to determine sex to our own satisfaction, + that we really look forward to the arrival of a new one. There's always + the pleasure of picking out blondes or brunettes. We try to equalize as + much as possible. I am—or was—a blonde, Mr. Flanders—quite + a decided blonde. Mrs. Bingle is still a brunette." + </p> + <p> + "And now, may I inquire, do they all regard you as their real father?" + </p> + <p> + "In a measure. There are times when they look upon me as a sort of + truck-horse. But real fathers have told me that that is customary. They + call me daddy, if that's what you mean. Once in a while they seem to + recollect that there was another man and woman in their lives, but not + often. Generally people who used to beat them, I gather. I will say this + for our children: they were all thoroughly spanked before they came to us. + It takes 'em a long time to get used to not being spanked." + </p> + <p> + "Do you never punish them?" + </p> + <p> + "Frequently. If they're bad I have them locked in a closet. We've got a + very large closet with windows and other comforts. Usually there are three + or four of 'em in at the same time, so they don't mind." + </p> + <p> + "God will surely reward you, sir, for being kind to all these poor little + kiddies. May I—ahem!—May I express the hope, sir, that some + day you may me blessed with—er—" + </p> + <p> + "No use, sir. Thank you, just the same. It will never happen." + </p> + <p> + "How many nurses have you in your employ?" + </p> + <p> + "Four at present. We also have a school-teacher—I mean, a governess. + Excellent young woman. Teaches 'em French and German. Curiously enough + some of the children take to foreign languages quicker than the others. + Force says that Reginald is a Hebrew. He was supposed to be Irish." + </p> + <p> + "Very interesting. All of them strong and healthy?" + </p> + <p> + "Absolutely. You'd think so if you could see 'em fight occasionally. + They've had the whooping cough and chicken-pox. My doctor is the renowned + Dr. Fiddler. You know of him?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle proceeded to dilate upon the activities and achievements of Dr. + Fiddler. There had been broken arms and prodigious bruises, cuts and + gashes of every conceivable character, and in every instance Dr. Fiddler + had performed with heroic fidelity. In the middle of a particularly + enthusiastic tribute to the doctor's skill as a fish-bone extractor, Diggs + appeared in the doorway, coughed indulgently, and then advanced. + </p> + <p> + "Beg pardon, sir. Mrs. Bingle says the children are getting nervous. They + happear to be—" + </p> + <p> + A series of shrill screeches descended the stairway, followed by the + sudden slamming of a distant doorway and the instantaneous suppression of + bedlam. + </p> + <p> + "Quite so, quite so," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, springing to his feet. "Dear + me, it is past the hour. Forgive me, Mr. Flanders, but—but I really + can't delay the—er—Yes, yes, Diggs, tell Mrs. Bingle that we + are all ready. Keep your seat, Mr. Flanders. Don't mind me. I must run + upstairs and see if—Quite so, Diggs. They MUST be nervous. Where is + Miss Fairweather?" + </p> + <p> + "She has a 'eadache, sir, and says she can't come down—" + </p> + <p> + "Stuff and nonsense! It will cure her headache. Send for her, Diggs. She's + our new governess, Mr. Flan—" + </p> + <p> + "What was the name?" demanded the reporter, pricking up his ears. He + leaned forward with a new interest in his lively grey eyes. But Mr. Bingle + was gone, his coat-tails fairly whisking around the heavy portieres. + </p> + <p> + "Fairweather, sir," supplied Diggs. "Miss Hamy—I mean to say, Amy—Fairweather." + </p> + <p> + "Good Lord!" fell from the lips of Richard Flanders. Then he proceeded to + behave in the most astonishing manner. He sprang to his feet and grasped + the retreating Diggs by the arm, literally jerking that dignified + individual back upon his heels. His eyes were gleaming. "Dark brown hair + and soft grey eyes? Fairly tall and slend—" The sly grin on the + butler's face served to check the outburst. He abruptly subdued his + emotions. "Excuse me for grabbing you like that. I—I was just + wondering if—" + </p> + <p> + Diggs had recovered his urbanity. "She is the same Miss Fairweather, sir. + I recognise her from your description. It may interest you to hear, sir, + that she acted just as queerly as you when I told her that you—" + </p> + <p> + "What did you tell her?" demanded Flanders, seeing that Diggs hesitated. + </p> + <p> + "That you had a scar on your thumb, sir. By the way, HAVE you?" + </p> + <p> + "I have!" exclaimed the young man. "Well, by George! Will wonders never + cease? Where is she? You say she isn't coming down—but, of course, + not! She couldn't think of it, knowing that I am here. I say, will you—will + you see that she gets a message from me? Wait a second. I'll write it now. + Just slip a note to her—Great Scott! What's that?" + </p> + <p> + The house seemed to be clattering down about his head. + </p> + <p> + "That, sir," responded Diggs, drawing a deep breath, "is the charge of the + light brigade. Hinfants in arms, you might say. There's no stopping them + now. 'Ere they come." + </p> + <p> + And down the wide stairway streamed the shrieking vanguard of the + Christmas revellers—seven or eight unrestrained youngsters who had + snatched liberty from the nurses the instant Mr. Bingle opened the + play-room door at the top of the house. Down the steps they came, + regardless of stumbles and tumbles—an avalanche of joy. + </p> + <p> + Diggs, from the doorway, raked the stairway and its squirming horde with + an exploring eye. + </p> + <p> + "She is coming, sir. Fairly tall and slender, sir, and—" + </p> + <p> + "Good Lord!" gasped Flanders, helplessly. "This is more than I can stand. + Diggs, do—do men ever faint?" + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. Three sturdy youngsters collided with Diggs. There was + nothing he could say—with lucidity. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII — SEARCHERS REWARDED + </h2> + <p> + Miss Fairweather bowed gravely to Flanders as she passed. Diggs observed + her closely. He was conscious of a sensation of disappointment. He had + counted on a scene—an interesting scene. Circumstances justified + something more thrilling than a mere nod of the head, his intelligence + argued, and it was really too bad to have it turn out so tamely. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Flanders, looking a trifle dazed and bewildered, contrived to hide his + emotions in a most commendable manner. A keener observer than Diggs, + however, would have detected a strange pallor in the young woman's smooth + cheek and an ominous shadow between her finely pencilled brows. Even Diggs + might have observed these symptoms but for the fact that she kept her face + rigidly averted. Mr. Flanders, from his position near the door—he + seemed to have taken root there—was favoured with no more than a + glimpse of the tip of a small ear and the faintest suggestion of a cheek's + outline. His own face, entirely visible to Diggs, was scarlet—quite + frankly so. + </p> + <p> + Four nurses appeared, carrying infants. Miss Fairweather assisted in the + task of placing the sleepy-heads in their high-chairs and in the + subsequent occupation of entertaining them by means of sundry grimaces and + motions, keeping them awake—and quiet—against the arrival of + Mr. Bingle, who, it appears, had gone to his room to substitute a pair of + far from fashionable carpet slippers for the smart pumps he had been + wearing. There was a great deal of excitement attending the placing of the + children, but it passed unnoticed by Mr. Flanders. He was staring + hungrily, pleadingly at the unfriendly back of the new governess. + </p> + <p> + Once she gave him a swift, perhaps unintentional look. It was too brief to + be described as significant, but it served to revive his interest in the + proceedings. He sprang forward and offered his aid to the nurses. If he + was clumsy in his attempt to jiggle a chair into position, an explanation + may be instantly provided. Miss Fairweather, after a brief stare of + indecision, favoured him with an almost imperceptible smile. He happened + to be in the act of pushing a high-chair under the wriggling person of + Imogene. That smile caused the momentary paralysis of his whole being, + with the result that the nurse came near to depositing Imogene on the + floor. Every one—except Imogene—squealed. Mr. Flanders was + reminded of his own existence. The arrested chair shot into position and + Imogene came down rather soundly on the seat of it, and then every one + giggled—except Imogene. + </p> + <p> + "Amy!" he whispered, as she turned away from the little group. He was at + her side in an instant. She faced him, and there was no trace of the + departed smile in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "How dare you speak to me?" she said in low, intense tones. Her eyes were + cold, unfriendly. + </p> + <p> + "I've been searching for you—" he began, eagerly, but her disdainful + laugh cut him short. + </p> + <p> + "Go away, please. I don't want to see you. There is nothing more to be + said between us. It's all over, Dick. Don't speak to me again. I—I + don't want the Bingles to know that I—" + </p> + <p> + "I must see you, Amy," he persisted. "It isn't all over. Now that I've + found you, I'll see that I don't lose track of you again. We can't talk + here. Where can I see you alone—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" she cautioned, and he respected the appeal in her dark, distressed + eyes. Mr. Bingle had entered the room, and was greeted by a shout of + delight from the children. The governess moved swiftly away from the young + man's side, mingling with the nurses by the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle, hurrying toward the semi-circle of youngsters was surprised by + a genial slap on the back from the visibly excited Flanders. + </p> + <p> + "Wonderful!" exclaimed the young man, his face radiant. "Wonderful!" + </p> + <p> + "Aren't they?" cried Mr. Bingle, pleased. + </p> + <p> + "I don't mean the—Ahem! They certainly are, Mr. Bingle. I expect + this to be the most beautiful Christmas Eve in all my life, sir. I shall + never be able to thank you for—" + </p> + <p> + "Tush, tush! Now come along. I want to introduce you to the young ladies + and gentlemen. Imogene, my dear, this is Mr. Flanders. Kathleen, shake + hands with—oh, I beg pardon, I ought to have presented you to the + Fairy Princess. Miss Fairweather, just a moment, please. I want you to + meet my friend, Mr. Flanders, of the Banner. Well, well, are we all here? + Let me see: one, two, three—no, hold up your hands as I call the + roll. Strict attention, Mr. Flanders, and you'll know which is which—I + say, Flanders, would you mind looking this way, please? Children first, on + an occasion like this, sir. Grown-ups don't count. How is your headache, + Miss Fairweather? Now, speak up, children. Answer to your names—and + how to Mr. Flanders, while you're about it." + </p> + <p> + Planting himself in front of the row of eager children, grasping + Flanders's arm with one hand, and employing the other in a sort of + counting-off process, he called the roll. + </p> + <p> + Kathleen, exquisitely dressed and radiant with joy, a dainty miss who + looked to be fourteen but was said to be twelve, curtsied to Flanders, who + bowed low, his roving eye unwilling to relax its interest in the flushed + face of the governess. Then came Frederick, a sturdy youngster; Marie + Louise, a solemn-eyed ten-year-old; Wilberforce, Reginald, Henrietta, + Guinevere, Harold, Rosemary, Rutherford, and last of all Imogene, who + whimpered. + </p> + <p> + "There!" said Mr. Bingle proudly. "They did it very nicely, didn't they, + nurse?" He addressed the four nurses, who beamed as one. "Diggs, you may + summon the servants. I hear Mrs. Bingle and our guests in the hall—or + is it the—er—ahem!" + </p> + <p> + "The servants 'ave congregated in the 'all, sir. It is them that is + whispering," said Diggs, who had been scowling in the direction of the + door. "I shall speak to them, sir. They should be made to understand—" + </p> + <p> + "Don't lecture them to-night, Diggs," broke in Mr. Bingle hastily. "Not on + Christmas Eve. Let 'em whisper. Tell 'em to come right in. You see, Mr. + Flanders, we have the servants in to hear the Christmas Carol. It's my + rule. They enjoy it. They—Ah, my dear! Here we are! This is Mr. + Flanders, Mary—my wife, sir. Come right in, Mrs. Forced. Permit me + to introduce my old friend Flanders of the Banner. Mr. Force, shake hands + with Mr. Flanders. Now—er—ahem! All right, Diggs—call + 'em in." + </p> + <p> + The servants—a horde of them—stalked into the room, each one + being formally, but perfunctorily announced by the butler, and each one + flushing painfully in return for the attention. There was Delia, the cook, + and Christine, her assistant; Swanson, the furnace man; Lockhart, the + chauffeur, and Boyles, the washer; Cora, the laundress; Georgia, the + scullery-maid; Edgecomb, the gardener, and his four helpers; Beulah and + Emma, the upstairs-maids; Bliss, the lodge-keeper, and Jane, his daughter; + Frank, the pony-cart driver, and Joe, the coachman; Matson, the + stable-boy; Fannie, the seamstress; Rudolph, the carpenter; Miss McLeish, + the stenographer and telephone operator; Throckinorton, the dairy-man; + Scott, the stockman; John Butts, the handy-man; Melissa, Watson and + Hughes. The four nurses escaped official announcement because they had + been clever enough to anticipate the formality. + </p> + <p> + Awkward, ill-at-ease in Sunday garments, and almost sullen in their + efforts to appear impressed, they formed an amazing group as they clumsily + ranged themselves in a compact fringe outside the more favoured guests of + the evening, who occupied what may be described as the "orchestra." They + remained standing. + </p> + <p> + "Ever see the play called 'The Admirable Crichton'?" whispered Mr. Bingle + to Flanders while the servants were crowding into their places. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Flanders. "I recognise the setting, but I miss the grown-up + daughters. Diggs is shorn of his opportunities, sir." + </p> + <p> + "That play gave me an idea. It was written by a fellow named Barrie. He + also wrote 'Peter Pan.' That is the greatest play ever written." + </p> + <p> + "If one believes in fairies, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I do," said Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "So do I," said Flanders, his gaze wandering. Miss Fairweather was caught + in the act of staring at him. She lowered her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force arbitrarily had settled into the chair next to little Kathleen. + His hard, impassive face wore a softer expression than was usually to be + observed there, and his voice, ordinarily brusque and domineering, became + ludicrously soft and wheedling. + </p> + <p> + "Come here, Kathleen. Sit on my knee. I've—I've got something pretty + for you." + </p> + <p> + Kathleen instantly lost her joyous, happy expression. Her eyes fell and + her manner betrayed unmistakable aversion to the august petitioner. + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Mr. Force," she muttered, and was guiltily conscious of + impoliteness. Frederick snickered. "I—I don't want to," she went on, + spurred to defiance by her brother's action. + </p> + <p> + "Why not?" demanded Mr. Force coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh—because," said Kathleen, almost surlily. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you like me, Kathleen?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir," said she, but without enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + "Would you like to see what I've got for you? All for yourself alone, you + know." + </p> + <p> + Kathleen couldn't resist. She betrayed the greediness that overcomes all + feminine antipathy. "What is it?" she asked guardedly. + </p> + <p> + "Sit on my knee and I'll put it around your neck," said he, fumbling in + his waistcoat pocket. + </p> + <p> + The child flushed painfully and her eyes fell again. "I don't want to," + she repeated. + </p> + <p> + Force got up from his chair, muttered something under his breath, and + moved away. He almost collided with Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter with these kids of yours, Bingle?" he began irascibly. + "Why don't you bring them up properly? Teach 'em politeness. Teach them + how to behave toward—" + </p> + <p> + "My dear Force, has—has Kathleen been rude?" said Mr. Bingle in + distress. + </p> + <p> + "You are not to reprimand her," said Force hastily. "I wouldn't have you + do that for the world. She'd always have it in for me if she knew that I—but, + what nonsense I'm talking. They are little ingrates anyhow—all of + them. Good Lord, Bingle, I can't understand what you see in the brats." + </p> + <p> + "I know you can't," said Mr. Bingle mildly. "That's just the difference + between us." + </p> + <p> + "There's only one in the whole lot that I'd have as a gift," said Force, + with a sidelong glance at Kathleen, who was joyous once more. "That girl + has got some class to her. Why is it, Bingle, that she dislikes me? All + the rest of 'em are friendly enough—too friendly, if anything—but + she won't even look at me." + </p> + <p> + "That's the woman of it," said Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "What's the woman of it?" demanded Force gruffly. "What do you mean by + 'woman of it'? Don't be silly, Bingle. She's a mere child." + </p> + <p> + "She'll come around all right," said Mr. Bingle gaily. "Give her time, old + fellow, give her time." + </p> + <p> + "Good heavens, what a racket they're making," growled Force. "Have you no + control over them, Bingle? I'd send the whole lot of them to bed, hang me + if I wouldn't." + </p> + <p> + "On Christmas Eve? Oh, no, you wouldn't, old—Where are you going?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm going into the library to smoke," said Force. "I can't stand the + row." + </p> + <p> + "Now, don't do that," pleaded Mr. Bingle, grasping his arm. "Wait a + minute. I'll speak to Kathie. She—" + </p> + <p> + "Do nothing of the sort," snapped Force. "She doesn't like me, and that's + all there is to it. I've taken a fancy to the child, Bingle—I never + liked a kid before in all my life. I've got a little present for her, but—oh, + well, never mind. I'll put it in her stocking, if you'll tell me which is + hers. But I say, why doesn't she like me, Bingle?" He was staring at the + back of Kathleen's brown, curly head, and his eyes were filled with + perplexity. + </p> + <p> + "Bashful—just bashful," explained Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Do you really think so?" demanded the other eagerly. + </p> + <p> + "Sure," said Mr. Bingle, delighted. "All girls go through that stage of + development. I don't mind saying to you, Force, she's my favourite. It's a + dreadful thing to say, but I'd rather lose any one of them—or all of + them—than to lose Kathie. I love her with all my heart." + </p> + <p> + Flanders was shaking hands with the small boys, Mrs. Bingle looking on + with placid approval. + </p> + <p> + "What's your name, my little man?" + </p> + <p> + "Abraham." + </p> + <p> + "Ahem!" coughed Mrs. Bingle, with a violent start. + </p> + <p> + "Reginald, sir," gasped he whose memory was still faithful when under the + pressure of excitement. + </p> + <p> + "I see," said Flanders, smiling down into Mrs. Bingle's embarrassed eyes. + "Lapsus linguae, Mrs. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "My French is very—" began Mrs. Bingle plaintively. + </p> + <p> + "Do you like Santa Claus, Reginald?" interrupted Flanders. + </p> + <p> + "I like him better'n I do Dickens," confessed Reginald with considerable + positiveness. "Say, what's your name?" + </p> + <p> + "My name is Dick." + </p> + <p> + "Gee! Deadwood Dick, the road-agent? The feller Melissa is always telling + us about? Hey, kids, here's—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" hissed Flanders, clapping his hand over Master Reginald's mouth. + "Never mind that!" + </p> + <p> + "Did I understand Mr. Bingle to say, Mr. Flinders, that you report for the + Banner?" It was Mrs. Force who spoke. She was inspecting the young man + through a bejewelled lorgnette, held at an angle which was meant to + establish beyond dispute the fact that she was looking down upon him from + a superior height. She was a tall woman and she had been married to Mr. + Force for twelve long years. Looking down on him had become such a habit + that it was quite impossible for her to look up to any one of his sex. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Mrs. Force, the Banner." + </p> + <p> + "Can you tell me who put that disgusting item in the paper about my little + gathering last week?" She regarded him with severity. + </p> + <p> + "Gathering? Oh, I daresay it was one of the hospital reporters, Mrs. + Force," said Flanders suavely. She spent the rest of the evening in + cogitation. + </p> + <p> + Three words describe Mrs. Force. She detested children. + </p> + <p> + Joe, the coachman, and Watson were waiting for an opportunity to speak to + Mr. Bingle. They appeared to be crowding each other. + </p> + <p> + "I beg pardon, Mr. Bingle," began Joe, hurriedly, as the master turned in + response to Watson's cough. + </p> + <p> + "What is it, Joseph?" + </p> + <p> + Watson succeeded in speaking first. "If you please, sir, my grandmother is + dying in the city. I've just been sent for, sir. I think it is possible + for me to catch the eight-forty—" + </p> + <p> + "I beg pardon, sir," broke in Joe. "I've just heard that my sister is + expecting a baby to-night, and I thought I'd speak to you about getting + off—" + </p> + <p> + "Just a moment," said Mr. Bingle, blinking rapidly. "Wasn't your + grandmother dying last Christmas Eve, Watson?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir. It was Hughes's grandmother." + </p> + <p> + "Did she die?" + </p> + <p> + "She did, sir," said Watson, with a pleased smile. "Hughes can attend to + my—" + </p> + <p> + "And your sister, Joe: didn't you get off last month for three days to + attend her wedding? Your only sister, I think you said." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. Poor girl," said the coachman, without shame or conscience. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle looked hard at the two men. They coloured. "Very well. You may + go, both of you, but don't let it happen again. I am sorry that you will + not be here to receive your Christmas presents. I shall distribute the + envelopes to-night. By the way, the grandmother season ends about the + middle of October, Watson. Good night, and—a Merry Christmas to both + of you." + </p> + <p> + "Beg pardon, sir," stammered Watson, sheepishly. "I'm ashamed of myself, + sir. It shan't 'appen again, not so long as I'm in your service." The + coachman shuffled his left foot uneasily and appeared to find something of + great interest in the rug on which he was standing. At any rate, he + scrutinised it very intently. Mr. Bingle smiled as he turned away. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fairweather suddenly leaned over and whispered into the ear of young + Wilberforce. He paid no attention to her, so she shook him gently by the + arm. A moment later, obeying an unspoken command, he sheepishly removed + two large wads of cotton from his ears. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you want to hear about Old Scrooge and Tiny Tim?" she whispered. + </p> + <p> + "I wish I'd thought of doing that," lamented Mr. Force audibly. He had + witnessed the little incident. + </p> + <p> + "I'd sooner hear about Melissa's pirates and sea-cooks," whispered + Wilberforce shrilly. + </p> + <p> + "Order, please!" commanded Mr. Bingle, taking his place at the + reading-table. "Please be seated, Mr. Force. Hi! Look out! Not on top of + Rosemary." + </p> + <p> + "Good heavens! I might have squashed her—or him. What are you? A boy + or a girl?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm a woming," piped up Rosemary from the depths of the biggest chair in + the room. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. Then he + benignly surveyed the audience. The row of servants bobbed their heads and + shifted from one foot to the other. + </p> + <p> + "Friends all," began the master, "I give you greeting. On this glad + evening no line is drawn between master and man, no—What is it, + Delia?" + </p> + <p> + The cook had stepped forward. "Excuse me for interruptin', sor, but for + sivin years I've stud through the Christmas Carol, from ind to ind, and + I'm sivin years older than whin I began. I'm no longer young and hearty. + I'm—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, why do you hesitate? Go on. Do you mean to say you don't want to + hear it again?" + </p> + <p> + "God knows, sor, I'm willing to give up wan evenin' to society. We all + are, for that matter. But it takes an hour an' a half to read the blissed + story. If we could only sit down during the recital, sor, it—it + wouldn't be so bad. But as it is, sor, we have to stand and only our legs + and feet can go to sleep. If—" + </p> + <p> + "I see!" cried Mr. Bingle. "You put me to shame, Delia. I never thought of + it in that light. You must have chairs. We will delay the reading while + you go to the dining-room and—" + </p> + <p> + "It's all right, sor. We've got the dining-room chairs in the hall. It was + me as thought of thim, sor. Go wan wid yez now, lads, and rush thim in." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bingle took advantage of this unusual delay—or respite—and + explained to Mrs. Force that she would never go back to Madame Marie for + another gown. All one had to do was to look at the dress she was wearing + to-night for the first time. "It has just come and it cost—well, you + know what a gown like that would cost at Marie's! And just look at it!" + Mrs. Force did look at it—commiseratingly—and said she would + be pleased to take Mrs. Bingle in to see her dressmaker, and so on and so + forth. Mrs. Bingle expressed some doubt as to any modiste's ability to + make her look like Mrs. Force and Mrs. Force pooh-poohed graciously. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force bit off the end of a cigar and glumly watched the revivified + servants arranging the chairs. Occasionally he sent a puzzled glance at + little Kathleen. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle rubbed his spectacles, while Mr. Flanders confined his + attention solely to the slim, graceful head and neck of the new governess. + He wore the look of one who has much to do to contain himself in patience. + As for Miss Fairweather, a warm glow had settled upon her fair cheek and + her eyes were bright. + </p> + <p> + "I always cry when any one reads aloud about Tiny Tim," she said to Mr. + Force, who, for obvious reasons, failed to hear her above the chattering + of the children. But Flanders heard. + </p> + <p> + "Tiny Tim always makes me cry too," he said, very distinctly. He was + rewarded by a slightly increased colour in the young lady's cheek. + </p> + <p> + "I cry my eyes out over Tiny Tim," Miss Quinlan was saying to Miss Stokes, + and at the same instant Miss Brown was telling Miss Wright that Tiny Tim + was always good for a bucketful, so far as she was concerned. + </p> + <p> + Imogene was sound asleep, and there were faint sobs in her breathing. + </p> + <p> + "Before we begin, Swanson," said Mr. Bingle, addressing the furnace-man, + "you might put a couple of fresh Yule logs on the fire. Pick out good, big + ones while you're about it." + </p> + <p> + "Will dose har fance-post do, Mast' Bingle?" whispered Swanson hoarsely, + as he held up a chunk of firewood for approval. + </p> + <p> + The fire was crackling merrily by the time the servants were seated and + Diggs had turned out the ceiling and wall lights from the switch, leaving + the big room in semi-darkness. The blazing logs sent a bright, nickering + glow into the faces of Mr. Bingle's auditors. He bowed gravely and took up + the cherished well-worn book. + </p> + <p> + "My dear friends, we have once more reached a milestone in the march of + Christendom. As you know, children, it comes but once a year, like New + Year's and Fourth of July." + </p> + <p> + "Hear! Hear!" volunteered three or four of the men-servants diffidently. + </p> + <p> + "We are all servants of the Lord whose anniversary we celebrate. We gather + here about a warm fireside, with the historic yule log blazing—er—figuratively + speaking, of course. These logs, naturally, are not historic. They—er—ahem! + Ahem!" He floundered. "Still, we gather about them, just the same, warm + and snug and full of good cheer. Outside, the night is cold and blustery. + The wind howls around the—" + </p> + <p> + The door-bell jangled in the distance. Mr. Bingle hesitated for an instant + and then went on: + </p> + <p> + "Howls around the corners with the fury of the wintry—ahem!—blast. + And it snows. 'It snows, cries the schoolboy!' You remember the verses, + children. You—See who's there, Diggs. Perhaps it is some neighbour + come to wish us—and, Diggs, no matter who it is, ask him—or + them—to come right in here. I'll—I'll wait a few minutes. + Hurry along, please." Resuming his address he beamed upon the row of + wriggling children. "We have before us eleven little ladies and gentlemen, + all eager for the Christmas dawn. See the stockings? To-morrow morning you + will find that Santy has filled them to the top. Next year Santy will come + provided with gifts for twelve, an even dozen. How many are eleven and + one, Reginald? Speak up. Eleven and one. Good! That's right, my lad. The + year after he will bring gifts for fourteen. We shall avoid the unlucky + number thirteen. Remember, children, that next Christmas you are to have a + little brother. You—" + </p> + <p> + "I want a sister," shouted Wilberforce. + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" said four nurses at once. + </p> + <p> + "As for you, my faithful servitors, it will not be necessary for you to + hang up your little stockings. Santy will find a way to—What is it, + Diggs?" + </p> + <p> + "If you please, sir, may I speak with you for a moment?" said Diggs + mysteriously, from the doorway. He appeared to be under the strain of a + not inconsiderable excitement. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle hesitated. "If it's your grandmother who is ill, Diggs, I'm + afraid—" + </p> + <p> + "It's a man, sir, who says he must see you at once," said Diggs, lowering + his voice and sending a cautious glance over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "If he is seeking food or shelter, do not turn him away. Give freely from + my purse and larder. It is Christmas Eve. We—" + </p> + <p> + "I'll step out and see him, Bingle," volunteered Mr. Force, with some + alacrity. "Go ahead with the reading." + </p> + <p> + "He says he must see you, Mr. Bingle," said Diggs. "He isn't after halms, + sir." + </p> + <p> + "Ask him to come in and hear the story. I've no doubt he would be + benefitted—" + </p> + <p> + "Go and see what he wants, Thomas," said Mrs. Bingle. "It may be + important. I am sure Mr. and Mrs. Force will not mind the delay. Will + you?" + </p> + <p> + "Not at all," said Mrs. Force resignedly. + </p> + <p> + "I shan't mind, if the rest don't," added Mr. Force, turning an ironic eye + upon the row of servants. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'll just step out and see what it's all about," said Mr. Bingle + reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + "Better see that the chap isn't a bomb-thrower, come to demand money of + you, Bingle," said Force. Mr. Bingle waved his hand airily as he threaded + his way among the chairs. "Does he look like a black-hander, Diggs?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir," replied Diggs. Then he let the truth slip out. "He says he is + from a detective agency, but I couldn't catch the name of it." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle halted. "Detective agency, Diggs?" + </p> + <p> + "So he said, sir." + </p> + <p> + Flanders arose. "Perhaps you'd like to have me go with you, Mr. Bingle. I + know most of these fellows. If I can be of any assistance—" + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, no," said Mr. Bingle nervously. "I—I think I'd better + see him alone. Now, Mary, don't look frightened. I haven't the remotest + idea what he wants, but as I haven't been up to anything—ahem! Keep + your seat, Frederick!" + </p> + <p> + "I want to see a detective," pleaded Frederick. "Is he disguised, Diggs? + Has he got on false whiskers? Please, daddy—" + </p> + <p> + "Maybe it's old Santy," cried Wilberforce in a voice that thrilled. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle left a pleasant atmosphere of excitement behind him when he + disappeared between the portieres. At once the company broke into eager, + speculative whispers that soon grew to a perfect storm of shrill inquiry. + Every one was guessing, and every one was guessing as loudly as possible + in order to be heard above the clamour. It might have been observed that + at least three or four of the servants shot furtive glances in the + direction of the hall, and appeared to be anxious and uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + While the excitement was at its height, Flanders deliberately planted + himself at Miss Fairweather's elbow. She looked up into his face. Every + vestige of colour had left her own. Her eyes were wide with alarm. + </p> + <p> + "Come with me, Amy," he said in a low tone. "I must have a word with you. + Make believe that you are showing me the—the pictures. We can talk + safely in that corner over there." + </p> + <p> + She arose without a word and followed him to a far corner of the room, + where they would be quite free from interruption. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Dick!" she murmured, in great distress. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know anything? Who is this detective? Has he come to—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh! Why, you're actually shivering! Here, sit down in the window seat—behind + the curtain, dearest. What have you to be afraid of? You've done no + wrong." + </p> + <p> + She sank down on the window seat. The thick lace curtain shielded her + agitated face from the view of all inquiring eyes save those of the tall, + eager young man who sat down beside her. + </p> + <p> + "They don't know that I was on the stage, Dick. They wouldn't have me here + if they knew that I've been an actress. I—Oh, I hope—" + </p> + <p> + "Brace up, darling! This detective isn't interested in you. What motive + could he have in looking you up? Bingle is in the dark, so it's evident he + hasn't hired any one to investigate your past. Forget it! That isn't what + I want to talk to you about. I've been half-crazy, dear, for the past + eight months. Why did you run away without giving me a chance to square + myself after that miserable night? Don't get up! I've found you and I'm + determined to have it out with you, Amy. You've just got to hear what I + have to say." His hand was upon her arm, a firm restraining grasp that + checked her attempt to escape. Undismayed by the look of scorn that leaped + into her eyes, he leaned closer and spoke in quick agitated whispers. + </p> + <p> + Fully half an hour elapsed before Mr. Bingle returned to the room. His + face was noticeably grey and pinched, and all of the ebullience of spirit + had disappeared. His wife eyed him anxiously, apprehensively. Slowly, + almost with an effort, he made his way to the reading-table, purposely + avoiding the gaze of the inquiring assemblage. His hand shook perceptibly + as he took up the book and cleared his throat—this time feebly and + without the usual authority, it might have been observed. + </p> + <p> + "Anything wrong, Bingle?" inquired Force, regarding him curiously. + </p> + <p> + "Nothing, nothing at all," said Mr. Bingle, vainly affecting a smile that + was meant to put every one at ease. "No crime has been committed, so don't + be nervous, any of you. Just a little private matter of—of"— + </p> + <p> + His gaze went swiftly to the eager, uplifted face of little Kathleen, and + he never completed the sentence. As he turned his face away, ostensibly to + find his place in the book, his lower lip trembled, and a mist came over + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + The dramatic enthusiasm with which he was wont to read the Dickens story + was sadly lacking. He read lifelessly, uncertainly, and at times almost + inaudibly. There was a queer huskiness in his voice that made it necessary + for him to clear his throat frequently. + </p> + <p> + Under ordinary conditions, he would have observed the singular aloofness + of Miss Fairweather and the reporter who was there by virtue of an + assignment. They retained their somewhat sequestered position in the + window seat, effectually screened by the curtains, and whispered softly to + each other, utterly oblivious to the monotonous drone of the reader, quite + in a little world of their own. + </p> + <p> + Flanders was pleading earnestly with the rigid-faced girl. Her cautious, + infrequent responses were not of an encouraging nature, that was plain to + be seen, but he too was obdurate. He held one of her slim hands in a grip + that could not be broken, as she had discovered to her dismay. Mr. Bingle + read on, ignorant of the little drama that went on under his very nose, so + to speak, and those of his auditors who were not nodding their heads in + frank drowsiness, were so completely wrapped up in extraneous thoughts + concerning the visit of the detective that they had eyes for no one except + the person who could explain the mystery. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's voice began to quaver much earlier in the story than usual. + He was always moved to tears, but as a rule he was able to suppress them + until along toward the end of the story. But now he was in distress from + the beginning. He choked up completely, in a most uncalled-for manner and + at singularly unexpected places. He managed to struggle through the first + twenty or thirty pages, and then, seeing for himself that he was nearing + the first of the weepy places and realising that he was sure to burst into + tears if he continued, he deliberately closed the book, keeping his + forefinger between the leaves, and announced in a strained voice that he + would skip over to the final chapter if the audience did not object. He + gave no excuse. It is doubtful, however, if he was gratified by the + profound sigh of relief that went up from the group of listeners. + </p> + <p> + At last, he came to the end of the story. He had no voice at all for the + concluding paragraphs: a hoarse, grotesque whisper, that was all. When the + servants had departed and the children were scampering off to bed, + thrilled by promises of the morrow, Mr. Single's arm stole about his + wife's shoulders and she was drawn suddenly, even violently close to his + side. He avoided her puzzled, worried gaze and resolutely addressed + himself to Mr. and Mrs. Force and Mr. Flanders. Miss Fairweather had + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + "That man was a detective," said he, without preamble. "His agency was + employed nearly a year ago to discover the whereabouts of a certain child, + whose father, repenting a wrong perpetrated years ago, desires to do the + right thing by his luckless offspring. After all these months, this + detective has located the little girl. She is in this house. She is my + favourite—and yours, Mary, God help us." + </p> + <p> + "Kathleen?" whispered Mrs. Bingle dully. + </p> + <p> + "Kathleen?" repeated Sydney Force, staring blankly at the little man. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Mr. Bingle, and sat down suddenly in a big arm chair, burying + his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + No one spoke for many minutes. Flanders had the grace to turn away from + the group. He was an unusual type of newspaper reporter. Here was + something that would make a splendid "story," and yet he was fine enough + to turn his back upon the opportunity that lay open to him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force's hands were gripping the back of a chair so rigidly that the + knuckles were white and gleaming. + </p> + <p> + "For a year, did you say, Bingle?" he questioned, steadying his voice with + an effort. + </p> + <p> + "Almost a year," gulped the little man, looking up through streaming eyes. + "Her mother died when Kathie was about a year old. The father never saw + his child. He had deceived the woman. He cast her off and—married + another, I take it, although I am a bit hazy. I was so upset that I—I + scarcely remember what the man said. Now the—the father wants to + find his child. He—he wants to give her a home—Oh, Lordy, + Lordy! I can't bear the thought of it. Sh! Don't cry, Mary. Maybe he'll + let us keep her. He is married. Perhaps he can't afford to acknowledge her + as his child under the circumstances. I—I put it up to the + detective. He actually grinned in my face and said he was quite positive + his client would be as sensible as most men have to be in similar + straits." + </p> + <p> + "Are you sure that Kathleen is the one he is looking for, Mr. Bingle?" + inquired Mrs. Force. "They sometimes follow false clues, or something of + the sort. I once heard of a detective who—" + </p> + <p> + "No such luck," groaned Mr. Bingle. "He has Kathie's history from the day + she was born. There—there isn't any chance for a mistake. She is the + one. Our eldest, our loveliest—Oh, Mary!" + </p> + <p> + Force shot an unmistakable look of alarm at the newspaper man who stood in + the doorway, staring out into the hall. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know the mother's name, Bingle?" he inquired. His voice sounded so + strange and unnatural that his wife glanced at him sharply. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. I know her real name. On the records at the hospital she was known + as Mrs. Hinman. But, you see, she wasn't married. Her name was Glenn." + </p> + <p> + Sydney Force's face was bloodless. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII — THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK + </h2> + <p> + The affairs of Amy Fairweather and Richard Flanders require explanation. + When two good-looking young people meet as these two met, and betray such + surprising emotion, it goes without saying that at least one episode in + their joint history deserves the undivided attention of the onlooker, who, + in this case, happens to be you, kind reader. It must be perfectly clear + to you that Miss Fairweather and Mr. Flanders were, at one time in their + lives, more than moderately interested in each other. That part of their + story does not require elucidation. Indeed, only an intelligence of the + most extraordinary denseness would demand the bald, matter-of-fact + declaration that they had been in love with each other. What we are + concerned about, therefore, is an episode of the early spring in the + present year of our story. + </p> + <p> + It is quite simple, after all. We have only to go back a year to get to + the bottom of the matter. Miss Fairweather and Mr. Flanders were fellow + lodgers in a boarding-house not far removed from Times Square. She was + playing a small part in one of the Broadway theatres and was known on the + programme as Amy Colgate, the customary sop to "family feelings" causing + her to abandon her own name during the neophytic period of her career. + This was a temporary concession, however; she intended to make the family + name famous as soon as she got a "part" that would give her a real chance. + Flanders was on the newspaper, but his aspirations were quite as lofty as + any one's: he was writing a play. He had already written two novels, both + of which remained unpublished. + </p> + <p> + At the outset, his play was intended for Miss Barrymore, but after the + second week of his acquaintance with the attractive Miss Colgate his + ambitions proved fickle: he discarded Miss Barrymore and substituted Miss + Colgate for the star part in the piece. Fortunately he had written but six + or eight pages of the first act, so the transfer was not a deleterious + undertaking. He could see no one else in the part; he could think of no + one else as he dreamed of the play's success. Moreover, Miss Colgate was + as pleased as Punch over this flattering tribute to her magnetism—for + the part, as described, was one that would not "get over" unless created + by an actress of pronounced magnetic appeal—and lost no time in + falling deeply in love with the manly playwright. They were + serious-minded, ambitious young people. It is of small consequence that he + was an untried, unskilled dramatist, and of equally small moment that she + was little more than an amateur. They saw a bright light ahead and trudged + steadily toward it, prodding themselves—and each other—with + all the vain-glorious artifices known to and employed by the young and + undefeated. The young man's dramatic aspirations were somewhat retarded, + however, by the fact that he was so desperately enamoured that he couldn't + confine his thoughts to the play; so the growth of the first act was slow + and tortuous. Under other conditions he would have despaired of ever + completing the thing. As it was, his despair was of an entirely different + character and had to do with the belief that Miss Colgate loved some one + else instead of him. + </p> + <p> + But even doubt and uncertainty possess virtue in that they often lead to + rashness, sometimes folly. In this case, Mr. Flanders proposed marriage, + albeit he couldn't, for the life of him, see how he was going to manage on + a salary of twenty-five dollars a week. That was the rashness of it. Miss + Colgate attended to the folly. She said she would marry him if it meant + starvation. So there you are. + </p> + <p> + After that, ambition revived and worked smoothly, rapidly. In the middle + of the second act, however, the play failed—that is to say, the play + in which Miss Colgate was appearing on Broadway. (It failed in the middle + of Mr. Flanders' second act, lest I appear ambiguous.) The young actress + found herself out of employment and without much prospect of getting an + engagement at that season of the year—a bad year it was, too, if you + will remember what theatrical people had to say about it. Now, she was not + obliged to work for a living. She could have gone back to her family in + Connecticut. But she was not made of that sort of stuff. She could have + gone back home and married the most desirable young or old man in the + town. She could have given up the stage and devoted herself to the + teaching of music, French or wood-carving, in which pursuits she was far + less of an amateur than at play-acting. But she was a valiant, undaunted + little warrior. She announced that she was ready to do anything that + offered, even chorus-work. + </p> + <p> + And one evening she told him that she had found a place in the chorus of a + "road show." She tried to hide her mortification under a somewhat + quivering jauntiness, but Mr. Flanders went rudely to the bottom of the + matter. She argued that she could change her name and no one would be the + wiser. She would positively refuse to appear in tights. Then came the + episode. Mr. Flanders flew into a scornful rage. He said a great many + things that he was afterwards ashamed to recall. Among other things, he + said he'd be hanged if he'd marry a chorus-girl; as for tights, she + wouldn't have any choice in the matter, once the manager set his mind to + it. She had not been in love with him long enough to submit to bullying, + so she sent him about his business. Moreover, she coldly informed him that + their engagement was over and that she never wanted to see his face again. + </p> + <p> + Inasmuch as it would be quite impossible to remain in the same + boarding-house without seeing his face once in a while, she moved out the + very next day. + </p> + <p> + The "road" was not what she had expected, nor was the life of a + chorus-girl as simple as it had seemed from her virtuous point of view. + Before the first two weeks were over, she deserted the company, + disillusioned, mortified. It HAD come to a matter of tights. + </p> + <p> + She returned to New York and bravely resumed her visits to managerial + offices and to the lairs of agents, in quest of an engagement not quite so + incompatible with her sense of delicacy and refinement as the one she had + just abandoned. But there was nothing to be had. More than once she was + tempted to write to Flanders, begging him to forgive her and to forget, if + he could, the silly mistake she had made. But love and loneliness were no + match for the pride that was a part of her nature. She resolutely put away + the temptation to do the perfectly sensible thing, and, woman-like, + fortified herself against surrender by running away from danger. + </p> + <p> + She had heard of the Bingles through a woman playwright who wanted to + dramatize the Bingle enterprise. Nothing, said this enthusiastic person, + could be more adorable than a play based on the Bingle methods of + acquiring a family. + </p> + <p> + One day, in Central Park, she saw Mr. Bingle and seven of the children. He + looked happy but inadequate. A grinning park policeman enlightened her as + to the identity of the bewildered little man. A single glance was all that + was necessary to convince her that Mr. Bingle was having his hands full. + </p> + <p> + He had lost all control of the little ruffians. (The park policeman was + the first to call them ruffians, so I may be pardoned.) They insisted on + playing games that Mr. Bingle couldn't play, and he was beginning to look + worried. Time and again he tried to herd them into the big station 'bus in + which he had brought them over from Seafood (the Bingle estate), and + always with so little success that he was getting hot and tired—and + farther away from the conveyance all the time. Still he smiled cheerfully + and gave no sign of losing his temper. + </p> + <p> + They were frolicking in the neighbourhood of the lake at the north end of + the park, and Miss Colgate was sitting on one of the benches not far + removed from the scene of activity. She began to feel sorry for the little + foster-father. He was having a time of it! The first thing he knew, one of + the little insurgents would tumble into the lake and—well, she + couldn't imagine anything more droll than Mr. Bingle venturing into the + water as a rescuer. At last, moved by an impulse that afterwards took its + place as the psychic capstone in her career, she arose and resolutely went + to his relief. He was panting and perspiring, for the spring day was warm. + </p> + <p> + "May I help you to gather them up?" she inquired. + </p> + <p> + Now, Mr. Bingle was not accustomed to seeing girls as pretty as the one + who accosted him so amiably. At first, he said no, he was very much + obliged, he guessed he could manage 'em, thank you. He wasn't quite sure + that it was right for him to "take up" with a strange and beautiful young + woman in a public park. One never could tell about these well-dressed + women who sit on park benches, and yet appear to be perfectly free from + tuberculosis. But Miss Colgate insisted, and Mr. Bingle, taking a second + look at her, said he would be grateful if she'd stay and watch the + littlest ones while he rounded up the big ones. She shook her head, + smiling, and gently ordered him to sit down and cool off a bit while she + gathered in the recalcitrants. + </p> + <p> + "You look so hot and tired," she said, and her smile was so frankly + sympathetic, so commanding in its sweetness, that Mr. Bingle promptly sat + down and said that it beat all how hot the weather was for early May. + Perhaps they WOULD come for her, he went on shyly; if she didn't mind + calling Frederick, that would be sufficient. Frederick was the rebel + leader. He ought to be spanked. She smiled again, and Mr. Bingle said to + himself that he'd never seen anything so nice. As she walked away, bent on + rounding-up the three boys and Kathleen, he was impressed by the slim, + graceful figure and the manner in which she carried herself. Nothing + ordinary or common about THAT girl, said he; nothing bold or immodest. Out + of the goodness of her heart she had proffered assistance, as any gently + born person would have done. His heart warmed toward her. It wasn't often + that one encountered a pretty girl who was considerate, sweet-natured and + polite to her elders, especially in New York City. He almost forgot + Henrietta and Guinevere in his contemplation of this extraordinary + phenomenon. Indeed, Henrietta's blubberings went quite unnoticed for some + little time, and it was not until Guinevere sent up a sympathetic howl + that he remembered the "littlest ones" and hastily took them upon his + knees, dropping his hat in his haste. + </p> + <p> + He was considerably amazed by the swiftness with which his ally + "rounded-up" the five roisterers. She went about it sweetly, even gaily, + yet with a certain authority that had an instant effect on the youngsters. + Almost before he knew what had happened, she was approaching him with the + flushed, mischievous "kiddies" in tow. They were staring at the strange, + beautiful young lady with wide-open, fascinated eyes. They were abashed, + puzzled; meek with wonder. When she extended her hands to Kathleen and + Marie Louise, they came to her shyly and then, without so much as a glance + at the three boys, she calmly led them back to the marvelling little + millionaire. It was a crafty way of bringing the boys, to time. Their + curiosity, cupidity, envy—what you will—brought them scurrying + up to the group, and not a face was missing from the ranks when she + stopped before Mr. Bingle and said: + </p> + <p> + "And now that we have them, bound hand and foot, what are we to do with + them? Put them in a dungeon and feed them on bread and water?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't see how you did it," said Mr. Bingle. "It was really quite + wonderful. Perhaps it was because you are so very pretty. I think, if you + don't object, I'll put 'em in the 'bus, take 'em home and feed them on + milk and honey and jam. Thank you, thank you ever so much." + </p> + <p> + "I love children and I believe that children like me," said she, her + fingers gently caressing Kathleen's brown, tumbled locks. "That explains + it, I am sure. Now, boys, run on ahead and tell the chauffeur your father + is coming. And, listen to me: your father is tired and very, very warm. + You must not cause him any more distress. I am sure you won't, will you?" + </p> + <p> + Then she wiped the tears from the cheeks of the "littlest ones," + straightened their bonnets, and, in the end, proposed that she should + carry one of them to the 'bus. + </p> + <p> + Down in her heart, she was coddling the wild, improbable hope that Mr. + Richard Flanders might be somewhere in the neighbourhood, watching her + with proud, but remorseful eyes! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle turned to her after the children were safely stowed away in the + 'bus and ready for the long ride home. He had his hat in his hand and he + bowed very low, with the old-fashioned courtesy that time and environment + had failed to modify. + </p> + <p> + "My dear young lady, you remind me of the fairy princess that I knew so + well as a boy. You spring up out of the ground and—Whist! you + perform deeds of magic and enchantment. I am sorry that we cannot have you + hovering about us forevermore. We are all enchanted." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you," she said, with her gay smile. "Do you still believe in + fairies?" + </p> + <p> + "I do," said he. + </p> + <p> + "And witches?" + </p> + <p> + "Absolutely," said he, with boyish enthusiasm. "And wizards, too—and, + I'm ashamed to admit it—ghosts. Good-bye. Thank you for the spell + you've cast upon us. I think it has done all of us a lot of good. I + undertook a task that was beyond me, bringing these youngsters here for a + lark. But you see, I had promised them the trip, and I don't believe in + going back on a promise. The governess left us yesterday, most + unexpectedly. She said her sister was ill, but—well, I shouldn't say + anything unkind. Perhaps her sister really is ill. So, then, I brought + them all by myself. Mrs. Bingle is in the city looking for a new + governess. She—" + </p> + <p> + "Would you consider—" began Miss Colgate eagerly, and then flushed + to the roots of her hair, What had come over her? Was she on the point of + applying for a position as governess in a family of—But why not? Why + not? She was tired, discouraged, and a failure at the work she had tried + so hard to perform. + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" + </p> + <p> + She laughed confusedly. "It was nothing, Mr. Bingle, nothing at all. + Good-bye. I hope you'll get them home safe, sound and—intact. They + are dears." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle surveyed his brood. Every eye was riveted on the face of the + strange, lovely lady, and in each was the look of complete subjugation. + </p> + <p> + "You've hypnotised them," said he, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + She looked away. After a moment's hesitation, she cast the die—urged + by the queerest impulse that had ever come over her. + </p> + <p> + "Would you consider me, Mr. Bingle, for the position that has just been + given up by the—the woman whose sister is ill?" + </p> + <p> + He heard, but he could not believe his ears. "I—I beg pardon?" he + said. + </p> + <p> + She faced him, now resolute and eager. "I am not a fairy princess, I am + not a witch. As a matter of fact, I am a very commonplace person who is + obliged to earn a living one way or another, and it isn't always a simple + thing to do. Tip to this instant, I hadn't the remotest thought of + becoming a governess. I don't know what came over me unless it was + loneliness, thinking of my little brothers and sisters at home. When I + first saw you and the children nothing was farther from my mind than the + thought that has just come into it. I DO love children. I want work, Mr. + Bingle. I am self-supporting. No matter what may have been my ambition up + to five minutes ago, I am content to put it aside, I am willing to + undertake—" + </p> + <p> + "My dear young lady," broke in Mr. Bingle, who had been slow to grasp her + meaning and even slower to recover from his stupefaction; "you—you + really have knocked me silly. I hadn't the faintest idea—" + </p> + <p> + "May I apply to Mrs. Bingle to-morrow?" she asked nervously, interrupting + him with unintentional rudeness. "I have no references to give as a + governess, but I—I think I can convince Mrs. Bingle that I would be + quite capable. Do you think there would be a chance for me if I—" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle broke in once more, this time with acute enthusiasm. "Don't + wait till to-morrow," he exclaimed. "Do it to-day! To-morrow may be too + late. Harkins, drive to the nearest public telephone. We will call up the + intelligence office and see if Mrs. Bingle has been there yet. If she + hasn't—" + </p> + <p> + "Is she looking for a governess in an intelligence office?" cried Miss + Colgate, in dismay. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly! Where else? Oh, I see," he made haste to add, sensing her + expression; "it isn't the place to find high-grade governesses, eh? Well, + all the better for us! We'll head her off. Climb in, Miss—Miss—" + </p> + <p> + "Fairweather, Mr. Bingle," said she, and it was the first time in two + years that she had called herself by that name. Of all the millions of + human beings in New York, but one knew that her name was Fairweather—and + she had quarrelled with him. She had told Dick Flanders. He was the kind + of man that women tell things to without reserve or without considering + the consequences. + </p> + <p> + "Move up, Frederick," commanded Mr. Bingle. "Make room for Miss + Fairweather. She's going to be the new governess. Lively, Harkins! The + nearest telephone. No! Not that saloon over there. Tackle an apartment + house. Well, well, Miss Fairweather, this is just like a fairy story after + all. I told you that I believed in fairies, didn't I?" + </p> + <p> + And that is how Miss Fairweather came to be governess in the Bingle + family, a position for which she was suited by nature but for which she + was utterly unqualified when it came to experience. And that is how she + managed to disappear so completely that Richard Flanders, love-sick and + repentant, could find no trace of her. There were days—and long, + long nights—when she ate her heart out in the hunger for him, but + she could not bring herself to the point where starvation made it + imperative for her to go begging. There was always before her the + distressing fear that he might have ceased, to care for her—ay, that + he might have gone so far as to transfer his affections to some one else + as the result of her stupid notions concerning independence. + </p> + <p> + No doubt he was going his way without a thought of her, pleasantly + forgetting her or, at best, merely remembering her as one who had proved a + brief but satisfactory blessing, as many a passing sweetheart has been to + a man in his flight through time. No, she argued in conflict with her + inclinations, it was not to be thought of, this senseless desire to go + back and begin all over again. Everything was over between them. She had + made her choice on that never-to-be-forgotten night and she had gone out + of his life. There was no use bewailing the fact that she was in the wrong + and that his contentions had been justified. She had made her bed, and she + would lie in it. The fault was with her, not with him—and yet she + could never quite forgive him for being right! She couldn't forget how + angry she was before she realised that his judgment was better than hers. + As a matter of fact, she couldn't help being a perfectly normal woman: she + enjoyed misery. + </p> + <p> + It must be recorded that she imposed upon the Bingles in one respect: she + did not mention the fact that she was or had been an actress. On the other + hand, she did not deceive them as to her lack of experience as a teacher + of young children. She confessed that the work was new to her, but she + confessed it so naively, so frankly, that they were charmed into + overlooking the most important detail in the matter of engaging a + governess. In fact, Mr. Bingle very properly said to his wife that as she + was expected to devote her time to children who had no pedigree, "it + wouldn't be along the line of common sense to exact references from her." + Besides, said he, she was so sure to be satisfactory. It was only + necessary to look into her honest eyes to feel sure about that. And Mrs. + Bingle, who was just then in the throes of adopting Imogene, agreed to + everything that Imogene's prospective father had to say. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Mr. Flanders had remained doggedly constant. He had + surrendered, as a man will, to reason, and had set about to find the girl + of his choice, determined to make his peace with her. But nowhere was she + to be found. He laid aside the unfinished play. What was the sense of + writing a play if there was no one to play the principal part? He was + disconsolate. He cursed himself for the stupid thing he had done. He had + wrecked his life, that's what he had done—poor fool! + </p> + <p> + And then came the unexpected meeting in the home of Thomas Singleton + Bingle, and the detached scene in the shelter of the window-nook. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle experienced a second shock just before Flanders darted out of + the house to jump into the waiting automobile which was to take him to the + station for the 10:17 train. + </p> + <p> + "Well, good night, Mr. Bingle," cried the tall young reporter, sticking + his head through the library door in response to the host's invitation to + "come in." "Thank you for the greatest evening of my life. It's just like + a fairy story. Oh, yes, before I forget it: I want to tell you how much I + enjoyed 'The Chimes.' I never knew that Dickens could write anything so—" + </p> + <p> + "'The Chimes'?" cried Mr. Bingle, abruptly leaving the little group at the + fireplace and bearing down upon the unconscious offender. "What do you + mean? It wasn't 'The Chimes' that I—" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly not," exclaimed Mr. Flanders, glibly. "Of course, it wasn't. I + never think of 'The Christmas Carol' without first thinking of 'The + Chimes.' Thank you for getting the automobile out to take me to—" + </p> + <p> + "No trouble at all, my dear fellow," cried Mr. Bingle, shaking hands with + the departing guest. "I wish you a Merry Christmas." + </p> + <p> + Flanders' face was glowing. "It will be the merriest Christmas I've ever + known, Mr. Bingle," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "I owe it to + you, too. By Jove, sir, I believe I am the happiest man in all the world." + He almost shook the little man's arm out of its socket. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's smile was meant to be beaming. He made a valiant effort to + rise above the catastrophe that was to make his Christmas the most + miserable he had ever known. + </p> + <p> + "Come to see us every Christmas Eve, my boy, if it puts you in such good + spirits to see the—the kiddies—" his voice quavered a little—"and + to hear the 'Carol.' You will always find the latchstring out." + </p> + <p> + "No other Christmas Eve will be as glorious as this one, sir," said Dick, + gently dragging his host into the hall and lowering his voice to a + thrilling undertone. "Not in a million years. Why, it is positively + bewildering. I wonder if I'm awake. Is it really true? I—I can't + believe that it really happened. Take a good, long look at me, please. You + DO see me, don't you? I am really standing here in your house—" + </p> + <p> + "What in the world are you talking about?" gasped Mr. Bingle, drawing back + a step or two. Mr. Flanders grabbed him by the arm. "Ouch!" + </p> + <p> + "I beg pardon, sir—I didn't mean to be rough," cried Flanders. "I'm + so excited I don't know what I'm doing, that's all. A man may be excused + for a lot of brainstorm antics when he's going to be married again. It—" + </p> + <p> + "Married again? I thought you said you'd never—" + </p> + <p> + "What I mean is this: I was going to be married once and now I'm going to + be married again. See? Oh, you know what I mean. I'm just driveling—simply + driveling with joy. We fixed it all up fifteen minutes after we got + together. You might congratulate me, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "God bless my soul! Congratulate you on what?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm going to marry your governess." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX — THE MAN CALLED HINMAN + </h2> + <p> + Bright and early on Christmas morning, Mr. Sydney Force walked slowly, + even irresolutely up the broad avenue leading to Mr. Bingle's stupendous + door-step. The snow had been cleared off of the narrow footpath, but the + president of the great city bank was so deeply engrossed that he failed to + take advantage of this singular demonstration of worthiness on the part of + Edgecomb and his assistants so soon after the break of dawn. As a matter + of fact, he had forgotten that it was Christmas morning. He walked in the + middle of the roadway, in four inches of snow, and kept his gaze fixed + rather intently on the big house at the top of the avenue. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force had not slept well. Indeed, he had not slept at all. The shock + he had received early in the evening was of the kind that shatters one's + peace of mind to a degree but little short of calamitous. A plunge into + ice-cold water would have failed to produce the deadly chill that crept + over him when he heard the name of Glenn. How he succeeded in controlling + himself so well that his profound agitation escaped the attention of the + others, he could not explain. He was amazed to find that he had managed it + so well. For, it must be confessed, Mr. Force's habitual equanimity had + undergone a strain that came so near to resulting in a collapse that only + a miracle—(it may have taken the form of stupefaction, or a kindly + paralysis)—only a miracle could have kept him from betraying the one + great secret of his life. + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily, he would have put off calling on the Bingles for a month or + six weeks, being that scornful of social amenities; but he could hardly + wait for the approach of sunrise to be on his way to Seafood on this + brilliant Christmas morning. It was not a brilliant, shimmering day for + him, however. He saw nothing beautiful in the steel-blue sky: to him it + was a drab, unlovely pall. He saw no beauty in the snow-clad foliage, no + splendour in the bejewelled tree-tops, no purity in the veil of white that + lay upon the face of the earth. He saw only himself, and he was a drear, + bleak thing as viewed introspectively. + </p> + <p> + Nor is it to be taken for granted that Mr. Bingle slept well on this night + before Christmas. Neither he nor his wife went to bed until far along in + the wee sma' hours. The great house was as still as the grave, save for + the occasional crack of shrinking woodwork and the rattle of dislodged + icicles on the window-ledges outside. The wind had died away. It seemed + that all nature, respecting their mood, had hushed its every noise in + order that they might think, and think, and think on without hope or a + single sign of promise in this time of despair. + </p> + <p> + They were to lose Kathleen. The man had been somewhat vague about it, but + the situation was clear to them, even though it was not so to him. Their + claim to the child—the one they loved best of all—was no + longer undivided. A real father had turned up to assert his rights. They + might dispute his claim and make the affair so awkward and so unpleasant + for him that he would withdraw, but what would be their gain? The man + existed. He was the real father. Kathleen was the flesh and blood of this + tardy penitent, this betrayer of women, this coward. Never again, so long + as she lived, could she be looked upon as theirs. Even though she remained + with them, and in perfect contentment, there would still be the sinister + shadow lying across the path—the shadow of a man hiding, of a man + who dared not come out into the open but whose everlasting presence was a + threat. + </p> + <p> + They did not know this man, they did not know whether he was a blackguard + or a gentleman. He was a destroyer; that much they knew. He had wrecked a + human life. The detective had declared to Mr. Bingle that his client was a + man of means, married, and eminently respectable, but then a detective's + idea of respectability is not always a safe one to go by. Every man is + respectable until some one is hired to prove that he isn't. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Force rang the front door-bell, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were seated + before the fire in the library. Kathleen sat upon the former's knee. The + rest of the children had been sent off to the huge playroom on the top + floor, and their distant shrieks, muffled by the thicknesses of many doors + and walls, came faintly down to the fireside. With the subdued, even + refined jingle of the door-bell, the two Bingles straightened up in their + chairs and looked into each other's eyes, suddenly apprehensive. Who could + be calling on them at such an early hour? Was it some one in connection + with this unhappy business? Could it be possible that they had come to + take Kathleen away so soon? + </p> + <p> + "Better run upstairs, now, Kathie," said Mr. Bingle, abruptly. "Skedaddle! + Go up the back way, dear." He thought of the back-stairs just in time. It + wouldn't do for her to encounter the strange, perhaps unfeeling emissaries + in the main hall. No telling what they might do. They might even take + forcible possession of her and be off before help could be summoned. + </p> + <p> + "I want to stay here with you, daddy," protested Kathleen, resolutely + clinging to her perch on his knee—and was not to be dislodged. + Before Mr. Bingle could utter another word, Diggs appeared in the door and + announced Mr. Force. Instantly Kathleen's manner changed. She released her + grip on Mr. Bingle's arm and slid to the floor. "Oh, I hate him! I don't + want to see him." + </p> + <p> + "Kathie!" cried Mrs. Bingle, distressed. "You should not say such things. + Mr. Force is very nice to you. He likes you—" + </p> + <p> + "He gives me a pain," said Kathleen succinctly. + </p> + <p> + "Good heavens!" gasped Mr. Bingle. "Where did you learn such language as + that?" + </p> + <p> + "It isn't language, daddy," said Kathie. "It's just slang. Everybody uses + it. Don't people give you a pain sometimes?" + </p> + <p> + "Never!" said he. "I don't believe in slang," he added, as if to fortify + himself against a conviction. "You needn't go, deary. Stay and see Mr. + Force." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to see him. I want to see Fairy. Oh, daddy, what are you + going to let her get married for? I know Freddie will commit suicide if + she marries that old Flanders." + </p> + <p> + "Freddie? What business is it of his?" + </p> + <p> + "I mustn't tell," she said, suddenly realising that she had been on the + point of betraying a grave secret. An instant later she was off like the + wind, whisking out of one door as Mr. Force entered by the other. + </p> + <p> + "Dear me, dear me," sighed Mr. Bingle, staring at his wife helplessly; + "what do you suppose has happened to Frederick? A boy of his age talking + of suicide is—Oh, good morning, Mr. Force. Merry Christmas! 'Pon my + word, you're an early bird. Come up to the fire. You look half frozen. + Why, by George, your teeth are chattering. Diggs! Throw on a couple of + logs, will you, and get the whiskey. We keep it for medicinal purposes and—" + </p> + <p> + "Not for me," broke in Mr. Force hastily. "Not a thing to drink, old man. + I'm quite all right. It is a bit snappy outside. Good morning, Mrs. + Bingle. How are you feeling since the—I beg your pardon, Bingle, I + really don't want a drink. Silly of me to shiver like this. You'd think I + had a chill, wouldn't you? But I'll be all right in a minute or two." + </p> + <p> + He stood with his back to the blazing logs. His teeth were chattering, but + not because of the cold. Every nerve in his body was on edge; his physical + being was merely responding to the turmoil that filled his brain. Could + they have seen his hands, clasped behind his back, they might have + wondered why the fingers were locked together in a grip so fierce that the + cords stood out in ridges on his wrists. + </p> + <p> + "You don't know what you miss, not having children about you on Christmas + morning," said Mr. Bingle, planting his small figure alongside that of the + tall man and attempting to spread his coat tails, an utter impossibility + in view of the fact that he had no tails to spread, being incased in a + dressing gown that reached almost to his heels when he stood erect but + unmistakably touched the floor if he permitted his dignity to sag in the + least—and he was having some difficulty in maintaining his dignity + on this doleful morning, it may be said. "It would have done your heart + good, Force, if you could have been here this morning—say at + half-past six—and seen the circus we had. Well, sir, it was—" + </p> + <p> + "Half-past six? My dear man, you don't mean to say those little rascals + got you out of bed at that ungodly hour. Why, I would have—" + </p> + <p> + "Just the other way 'round," said Mr. Bingle, sheepishly. "We had to + fairly yank 'em out of bed. We are the rascals, Force—Mary and I. We + couldn't wait, don't you see? But, of course, you don't see. You couldn't + see unless you'd been counting on Christmas morning for months. You—But, + what's the matter, Force? 'Pon my word, you DO need a bracer. Mary, dear, + won't you see if—" + </p> + <p> + "See here, Bingle," blurted out Mr. Force, in desperation, "I want a few + words with you alone. It is—imperative. Hope you will excuse me, + Mrs. Bingle. I'm a bit upset—yes, considerably upset—over + something that has come up in the—er—that is to say, quite + recently. I—I want your husband's advice on—on a matter of + grave importance." + </p> + <p> + The Bingles stared at him for a moment in speechless concern. Then Mr. + Bingle managed to give expression to the fear that entered his heart as + Force concluded his amazing remarks. + </p> + <p> + "Anything—anything wrong at the bank?" he inquired, swallowing hard. + Was the man about to tell him that the bank—the great bank—was + going under, that there had been defalcations, that—but even as he + pictured the collapse of the bank there shot into his brain another and + still more ghastly thought: had the Supreme Court decided against him in + the long-fought case of Hooper et al vs. Bingle? + </p> + <p> + "Certainly NOT," exclaimed Mr. Force, with sudden irascibility. His nerves + WERE at a high tension, there was no denying that. "Nothing whatever to do + with the bank, sir. What the dev—what could have put such a thought + into your head, Bingle?" + </p> + <p> + "You looked so—so blasted serious," said Mr. Bingle, with surprising + heat. + </p> + <p> + "Thomas!" cried his wife, aghast. + </p> + <p> + "Beg pardon, Force," muttered Mr. Bingle, very much ashamed of himself. "I + didn't mean to be profane. I guess I'm a little nervous myself." + </p> + <p> + "Can't I look serious without putting the bank on its last legs?" demanded + Mr. Force, glaring. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," Mr. Bingle made haste to assure him. "Look as serious as you + please, Force. I know it can't hurt the bank. Don't go, Mary. Mr. Force + and I will slip up to my study. We are less likely to be interrupted + there." + </p> + <p> + "I trust Mrs. Force is well," said the lady of Seawood, and there was a + note of anxiety in her voice. There HAD been a queer taste to the lobster + a la Newburg. She remembered mentioning it to Mr. Bingle after the company + had gone. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force was guilty of an uneasy start. What was the woman driving at? + What put it into her head to mention his wife? Why SHOULDN'T his wife be + well? + </p> + <p> + "Quite well, thank you," he said at the end of a deep exhalation. Indeed + he was quite without breath when he came to the "thank you." It would have + been better if he hadn't tried to be so courteous. "Quite well," would + have been sufficient. He realised, as he wheezily filled his lungs, that + the "thank you" was entirely superfluous. In any event, it wasn't so + important that he should have gone to the pains of upsetting his dignity + in order to say it, no matter if it was the proper thing to say. He always + hated anything that caused him to become red in the face. + </p> + <p> + "It's quite a relief," said Mrs. Bingle, brightening. It would have been + dreadful if anything HAD been the matter with the lobster. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Force knew nothing whatever about the suspected lobster and being + in considerable doubt as to just how much of Miss Glenn's story the + Bingles had learned, very naturally believed that the good lady was + concerned about Mrs. Force's peace of mind rather than her state of + health. He grew perfectly scarlet and mumbled something about his wife + sleeping like a log, and then hastily followed Mr. Bingle out of the room. + </p> + <p> + "Troubles never come singly, do they, Force?" said Bingle as they mounted + the stairs. He sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + "So they say," said Force, also sighing. He was thinking of the interview + that was to come. He was wondering just how he was going to explain things + to Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "She isn't to be married till spring, but—Oh, well, I suppose I + shouldn't complain." Mr. Force stopped stock-still on the stairs. + "Mar-married?" he gasped. "Are you crazy?" + </p> + <p> + "Almost," said Mr. Bingle promptly. "If anything more happens, I'll be + wholly so. Come in, Force. Now, old chap, what's on YOUR mind?" They had + entered the study. Mr. Bingle faced his visitor after closing the door + carefully behind him. "Out with it? Don't keep me in suspense. Has—has + the case finally gone against me?" + </p> + <p> + "Who is going to be married in the spring?" demanded Force, wiping his + brow. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Fairweather. I thought you knew." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, the devil! Of course not! What do I know about Miss Fairweather's + affairs?" + </p> + <p> + "Flanders is the man. He's the lucky dog. An old affair, Force. + Tremendously romantic story back of—" + </p> + <p> + "Needn't mind, Bingle. I don't care to hear it at present. I've got + something a great deal more important to think about—dammit." He sat + down heavily, and began fumbling for his cigar case. His forehead was + dripping wet. + </p> + <p> + "It must be serious," said Mr. Bingle slowly, "or you wouldn't be swearing + as you do, Force. I've never heard you swear before." + </p> + <p> + "It is serious. Of all the improbable, dime novel, hellish—But tell + me, Bingle: how much do you know?" + </p> + <p> + "How much do I know about what?" + </p> + <p> + "Didn't that fellow blab anything to you last night?" + </p> + <p> + "Bla—blab?" + </p> + <p> + Force pointed to a chair. "Sit down. Are you sure no one can hear what I'm + saying?" + </p> + <p> + "No one but yours truly," said Mr. Bingle, assuming a jauntiness he did + not feel. He sat down, his back as stiff as a board. + </p> + <p> + His visitor leaned forward, his hands grasping the arms of the chair. + "Well, I'll tell you something, Bingle, that will paralyse you. I—I + didn't sleep a wink last night." + </p> + <p> + "That doesn't paralyse me. Neither did I—" + </p> + <p> + "This is no time to be funny, Bingle," said the other roughly. "Do you + want to know what kept me awake all night, suffering the torments of the + damned?" + </p> + <p> + "I do," responded Mr. Bingle, casting a quick glance at Mr. Force's jaw. + He knew what it was to have a toothache. + </p> + <p> + "Well, it was that miserable business about—about Kathleen," said + Force, a querulous note creeping into his voice. Mr. Bingle did not think + it worth while to tell him that it was the same miserable business that + kept him awake. "Now, I want the truth, Bingle. I want to be sure before I + go ahead. It means a great deal to both of us. Was Kathleen's mother named + Agnes Glenn?" + </p> + <p> + "It was," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes narrowing with the dawn of + comprehension. + </p> + <p> + "Did you ever see her?" + </p> + <p> + "Once, just before she died." + </p> + <p> + "Describe her, Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "I can't. Good Lord, man, my eyes were blind with tears all the time I was—" + </p> + <p> + "Never mind," broke in Force. "We won't go into that, after all. Did she + tell you anything about herself, her past life, her—her trouble?" + </p> + <p> + "Not a word. She was just about to enter the future life, Force. She + hadn't much to say. Simply said that she hoped I'd be good to her little + baby, that's all. Go on, man." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force appeared to be lost in bleak abstraction. The curt command + brought him out of it with a start. + </p> + <p> + "She went by the name of Mrs. Hinman, you say. No other name was + mentioned, then or afterwards?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "I can tell you something about her, Bingle. She lived for three years as + the wife of a man who called himself Hinman. She wasn't his wife and that + wasn't his name. She'd been on the stage. She went to live with this man + as his wife. She was a good girl up to the time she met this man and fell + in love with him. Her home was in the West. Her parents were respected, + God-fearing people. They never knew that she—that she took up the + life she led with—Hinman. Don't interrupt me, Bingle. If I don't get + it out now, I'll never have the courage to try it again. No man was ever + in such a desperate plight as I find myself in to-day. I'll come straight + to the point. I am the man called Hinman and—this child you've got + here with you is—mine." + </p> + <p> + He might have had the grace to exhibit some sign of shame or compunction, + but he did nothing of the kind. He merely looked defiant, as if expecting + Mr. Bingle to say something that he could resent. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Bingle sank deeper into his chair, his chin buried, his eyes + fastened in a sort of horror upon the face of the President of the great + bank. He was incapable of uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + After a little while Force went on: "Blood will tell. All this accounts + for the peculiar, inexplicable attraction that Kathleen has held for me. + It is like a chapter out of an impossible novel. It—" + </p> + <p> + "And perhaps it accounts for the antipathy the poor child has for you," + said Mr. Bingle, his voice a trifle shrill and uncertain. He did not take + his gaze from the face of his visitor. "It now seems quite natural to me." + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense! The child had no means of knowing or even suspecting that I—" + </p> + <p> + "She had a birthright, Force. You can't take that away from her. The + hatred for her father was born in her. God wouldn't let her hate the wrong + man, you know." + </p> + <p> + Force got up from the chair, tremendously moved all of a sudden. A + piteous, pleading look came into his eyes, and his face, once arrogant, + was now haggard with despair. + </p> + <p> + "Bingle, I—I want you to help me. For God's sake, do what you can + for me. Put into practice your beautiful Christmas Carol teachings. I—I + want her. She must be made to understand that I love her, she must be made + to feel that she is everything in the world to me. She looks like her + mother. I thought it was fancy on my part, but now I know. Good God, + little did I know where fate was going to lead me when I employed those + fellows to find the child of Agnes Glenn. Little did I know that it would + lead me to your door, Bingle." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle arose. He was very pale and shaken, but he managed to control + himself with remarkable fortitude. + </p> + <p> + "I have not told you that Agnes Glenn died of starvation—and + carbolic acid," he said slowly. "Have your detectives told you that?" + </p> + <p> + "Carbolic acid?" whispered Force, with staring eyes. "Starvation? Good + God, man—not that!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes—THAT! The Society found her when she was about gone. I was + notified. We were looking for a child. This baby of hers was then about + two years old. Mrs. Bingle and I went to the poor little flat where they + had found her, after the neighbours had told the police of her plight. She + was sick unto death. I said that we would care for her baby as if it were + our own. Then I made arrangements to have her removed to a hospital at + once. While we were out of the room, she took the carbolic acid. That's + the way it happened, Force. That was the end of Agnes Glenn. She was a + splendid character, Force. She did not betray you. She stuck by you to the + very end. She protected you a great deal better than you protected her." + </p> + <p> + "See here, Bingle, I don't like your tone. It sounds preachy. You don't + know anything about life, so you can't understand. That sort of thing is—well, + it happens to a good many men and no one thinks much about it. I daresay + that half the men you know have had just such an experience. It's part of + the game here in New York. The girls understand it. They have no + illusions. They know that these men cannot—or will not marry them. + So, as you don't know anything about life as it's practised now-a-days, + I'd advise you to go slow with your platitudes." + </p> + <p> + "All right, Force," said Mr. Bingle quietly. "If that's the way you feel + about it, there's no use wasting time over nothing. I can't resist saying, + however, that I didn't think it was in you to be so damned cold-blooded." + </p> + <p> + "Cold-blooded over what? The Glenn girl? Why, my dear man, that was nearly + thirteen years ago. I am sorry that she had to go the way she did, but, + good Lord, I can't go through life in sackcloth and ashes because she died—as + a lot of people do, every year, you know. Hers was not an uncommon case. + There are thousands just like it happening every year. It's the price we + all pay, men and women. There's no use being sentimental about a perfectly + commonplace—I might even say legitimate—transaction. Agnes + Glenn was like the rest of her kind: she had a very sharp pair of eyes + open all of the time, you may be quite sure of that. I will say this for + her, poor little devil: she was no blackmailer. She got down and out when + the time came and she never squealed. That's more than most of 'em do, + Bingle. 'Pon my soul, old man, I came here to see you this morning fairly + trembling in my boots. I had an idea it was going to be a hard, nasty + business talking it over with you, but—by George, it isn't. Now, we + can get down to rock-bottom, Bingle. My plan was to—" + </p> + <p> + "Just a minute, please," interrupted Mr. Bingle, quite steadily. "Did you + know that she was going to become a mother?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. You don't suppose I'd be looking for the child if I hadn't + known she was to be born, do you? I'd be a nice fool, hiring detectives to + unearth some other man's child, wouldn't I?" + </p> + <p> + "I must agree with you in one particular, Force; you are not finding it as + hard as you thought it would be. I've never seen a man change more than + you have in the past four minutes. You were shaking like a leaf when you + came up here, and now—well, 'pon my soul, you are as brave as a + lion. That certainly proves one thing." + </p> + <p> + "What's that?" + </p> + <p> + "That your conscience is clearing." + </p> + <p> + "Now, don't get it into your head, Bingle, that I'm not dreadfully sorry + for the way that poor girl came to her end. She was really a brick. She + deserved something better." + </p> + <p> + "Knowing that she was going to bear your child, Force, you have every + reason, I am sure, to say that she was a brick. I, too, say that she + deserved something better than being the mother of your child. What + happened? Did she leave you of her own accord?" + </p> + <p> + "In a way, yes," said Mr. Force coolly. "In the customary way, of course. + You see, I was about to be married, Bingle. When I explained the situation + to her, she understood. She knew that I couldn't go on leading the sort of + life I'd led before—" + </p> + <p> + "You hesitate, Force. Why couldn't you go on leading the life you'd led + before? I should say it was quite as decent at one time as another." + </p> + <p> + "By Jove, Single, I hadn't the remotest idea you were so simple. I thought + you at least knew SOMETHING about life. You amaze me. You are positively + refreshing. Let me ask you, Bingle, would you have gone on leading the old + life as—now, man to man, Bingle—would you?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Mr. Bingle simply. A queer unexpected little smile flitted + across his face—a wry smile, perhaps, but still a sign of humour. + "You see, Force, I love children." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force stared at him without comprehension. What the DEUCE had that to + do with it? + </p> + <p> + "Oh, well, you can't understand, of course. To make it short, she was + extremely reasonable. As a matter of fact, when I went up to see her the + day after I had told her that I was to be married, hang me if she hadn't + cleared out. No scene, no tears, no maledictions—just good, hard + sense, Bingle, that's what it was. Not many of them would have been so + decent about it. They usually make a bluff or something of the sort—money, + you know, regular blackmail. But she didn't. She got out as quietly as a + mouse, left no trace behind, no regrets, no complaints. Just a note saying + she understood and wishing me luck. Rather fine, eh?" + </p> + <p> + "And you married right after that?" + </p> + <p> + "Six weeks afterward." + </p> + <p> + "And, of course, the present Mrs. Hinman knows that she's got a + step-daughter?" + </p> + <p> + "The present Mrs. Hinman? Step-daughter? Good Lord, Bingle, I didn't know + you had that much sarcasm in you. But that delicate remark of yours brings + me back to the main issue—the matter I really came over to see you + about. Naturally Mrs. Force knows nothing of—of this story I've been + telling you. Now, what I want to get at is just this: how can we manage it + about Kathleen without causing my wife to suspect? Put your mind to it, + Bingle. How am I going to take the child under my wing, so to speak—take + her into my home, without—" "Wait! We'll look at it from another + point of view. Suppose this detective of yours had found your child in the + slums of New York, a street waif, a beggar—what then? Was it your + intention to take her into your home in that case? Wasn't it your idea to + provide a home for her in some respectable family, educate her, give her a + secret allowance—and let it go at that? Can you honestly say to me, + Force, that you intended to adopt her—as you are now thinking of + doing?" + </p> + <p> + "Confound you, Bingle, isn't it only reasonable that I should have wanted + to see the child before I made any definite plans for her future?" + </p> + <p> + "And now that you've seen her, and found her to be an adorable, lovely, + even high-bred little creature, you think it's all right to take her into + your own home—into her father's home?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't be hard on me, Bingle. Can't you understand that I've got a + father's feelings after all? Can't you credit me with—" + </p> + <p> + "I'll go back a dozen years, Force, and ask you this question: did you + make any effort to find this child and provide for her when she was a tiny + baby? Did you do anything toward helping the mother in her time of + trouble?" + </p> + <p> + "I tried to help her, Bingle, before God I did," cried Force earnestly. + "I'm not such a rotter as all that. Agnes wrote me a brief note when the + baby was born. I happened to be off on my wedding-journey at the time. She + said she merely wanted me to know that she had a little girl baby, and she + went on to say that she'd starve before she'd take a penny from me for its + support. That's the truth, Bingle, I swear it. When I got back from + California, I tried to find Agnes. I wanted to do the right thing. I + wanted to make the rest of her life easy and comfortable. But I couldn't + find her." + </p> + <p> + "Did you hunt very long?" + </p> + <p> + "Long enough. A year or so later I heard that she was dead and that the + child had been taken into a good home. There was nothing more for me to + do. I dropped the matter. Then, recently, I began to think about the + child. I began to want her. I engaged detectives to—" + </p> + <p> + "We know all about that," interrupted Mr. Bingle crisply. "And now I think + we understand each other clearly, Force. You want Kathleen. So do I. + There's only one way for you to get her, and that is to have Mrs. Force + intercede for you. If your wife comes to me and says that SHE wants + Kathleen, I'll give her up, even though it breaks my heart. What have you + to say, Force?" + </p> + <p> + Force had lost all his lofty confidence. He was shaking again, as with the + ague. This was not at all what he had bargained for. Who would have + dreamed it of Bingle? + </p> + <p> + "Come now, Bingle, let us get together—" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle interrupted him in no uncertain manner. He planted himself + squarely in front of the big man—in fact, almost under his nose—and + snarled: + </p> + <p> + "There's only one way for you to get Kathleen away from me, Force, and, + darn you, I don't believe you'll undertake it. I shall give her up to you + only on condition that you acknowledge her to be your daughter." + </p> + <p> + Force's jaw dropped. "Are you crazy, Bingle?" he gasped. He lifted his + head the next instant in order to avoid the agitated finger that was being + shaken under his nose. + </p> + <p> + "I don't intend that you shall say to the world that she is a child of + shame. Not at all, sir! That would be the height of cruelty. But you've + got to tell your wife the story you've told me if you want to take + Kathleen away from me. She has got to know that the child is yours. You + can't come any adoption dodge over me, Force. She's already adopted. She—" + </p> + <p> + "But, great heaven, man, my wife wouldn't have her in the house if—if + she knew the truth about her," exploded the wretched Force. "No woman + would stand for that." + </p> + <p> + "Then, by the eternal Moses," shouted Mr. Bingle, "she'll stay right here + with Daddy and Mammy Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "But she's mine! If, as you say, she is the daughter of Agnes Glenn there + isn't the slightest doubt that she belongs to me. I want to do the right + thing by the child. I want to—" + </p> + <p> + "No use talking, Force. There's but one way." + </p> + <p> + "But, damn it all, I CAN'T go to my wife with all this! I can't—" + </p> + <p> + "Then Kathleen stays where she is," said Mr. Bingle firmly. + </p> + <p> + "Great Scott, man, what difference can it make to you? You can adopt + another child to-morrow and fill her place. It isn't as if she were your + own child. You don't know what it is to have a child of your own—your + own flesh and blood. You CAN'T have a father's feeling for—" + </p> + <p> + "That will do, Force! You've said enough. The matter stands as it is. I'll + tell you something else though before we part: I don't want you coming to + this house annoying Agnes Glenn's child. I shall tell my wife all that you + have told me and I'd advise you to tell yours, because I don't want you to + put your foot inside my door until you can come here with Mrs. Force and + humbly—you notice I say humbly?—implore us to give up that + which belongs to us by virtue of that old law of salvage. I have already + wished you a Merry Christmas, Mr. Force. Now permit me to bid you good + morning." + </p> + <p> + He strode to the study door and opened it. His chin was high and his eyes + were uncommonly bright. The hem of the dressing gown was farther from the + floor than it had ever been during his ownership. + </p> + <p> + "I'll think it over, Bingle," muttered Mr. Force, very red in the face as + he stalked past the little man and started down the stairs. "Good + morning!" + </p> + <p> + "Good morning!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X — MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL + </h2> + <p> + Flanders was a constant visitor at Seawood. In the fortnight immediately + following the all-important Christmas Eve, he appeared at the Bingle home + on no less than ten separate occasions. + </p> + <p> + "I see that Mr. and Mrs. Force are sailing for Europe to-morrow," said he + on his most recent visit. + </p> + <p> + "You don't say so!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. "It's news to me." + </p> + <p> + There was every reason in the world why it should be news to him. He had + neither seen nor heard from Force since that Christmas morning ultimatum. + Purposely Mr. Bingle had stayed away from the bank, where, as its first + vice-president, he was wont to spend much of his time looking after the + comfort and advancement of the bookkeepers and clerks. He never overlooked + an opportunity to help his old comrades in the "galleys." The board of + directors were compelled to fight him constantly in order to keep him from + putting through his plan to raise all wages, and there came near to being + a catastrophe when they voted down his ridiculous scheme for providing + fresh air for the lungs of the workers in the "pen." He made certain + comparisons in which Russia was frequently mentioned and three or four of + the directors afterwards referred to him as an "undignified little ass." + </p> + <p> + But now he hesitated about going to the bank. Somehow, he could not quite + bring himself to the point of encountering the president of the bank in + his capacity as head of the great and reputable concern. Never again would + he be able to look upon Sydney Force as the right man for the place. He + could only think of him as "a man called Hinman." Being a charitable soul, + however, he stood ready to overlook much that was obnoxious in the + character of the man if the time ever came when he openly revealed a + contrite heart and a disposition to make amends in the proper way. + </p> + <p> + "To be gone for three months, I hear," said Flanders, looking at his + watch. "I say, Mr. Bingle, doesn't it seem to you that the afternoon + lessons are a little longer than usual? It's five o'clock. I have to be + back in town before half-past six." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle did not reply. A sudden cause for rejoicing had sprung up, + occupying all of his attention. For three months, at least, he would be + free to call Kathleen his own, and for three months he could go to the + bank without being disturbed by the workings of his own conscience—for + after all, a visible Mr. Force would be something of a tax upon his sense + of honour. + </p> + <p> + Flanders waited for a moment and then began winding his watch. + </p> + <p> + "Ahem!" he coughed. + </p> + <p> + "News to me," repeated Mr. Bingle, rising above his reflections. + </p> + <p> + "By the way, sir, it may interest you to know that I'm getting along + nicely with the play." + </p> + <p> + "Good! I'm glad to hear it. They tell me there is a great deal of money to + be made out of a good play." + </p> + <p> + "There's a lot to be made out of a successful play. It doesn't follow that + it has to be a good one, you know," said Flanders, didactically. "I am + terribly keen on finishing it and getting a production as soon as + possible. It means a—well, you know what it means to me, sir. These + managers are a rum lot. Four-fifths of them don't know a good play from a + bad one. I suppose I'll have a hard time placing it, because I don't + believe it will be bad enough at the outset for them to accept it on + sight. I understand it is a theory among managers that if a play is + unspeakably bad they can hire some one else to rewrite it from beginning + to end, and make a success of it. Adversely, if it should happen to be a + good play, they don't know what it's all about and will have nothing to do + with it." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure your play will be a dandy," said Mr. Bingle warmly. "The plot is + tip-top. Even a manager ought to be able to tell what it's all about." + </p> + <p> + "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness in listening to all + I've had to say about the piece. I'm afraid I've bored you terribly." + </p> + <p> + "Not at all, not at all. I've always been interested in the theatre. I'll + confess to you that I've always wanted to know a real actor or actress. + Now that our dear Miss Fairweather turns out to be—er—to have + been on the stage for some time before she came to us, my interest in the + profession is intensified. I really am quite thrilled over knowing a real, + flesh and blood actress." + </p> + <p> + "We were a little afraid you wouldn't look at it so generously, Mr. + Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "I know. Miss Fairweather has told us of her sleepless nights, worrying + over the supposed deception. She might just as well have slept + comfortably, Dick. She may have been a bad actress but she wasn't a bad + woman, so no harm has come of it. Do you think she is qualified to play + the leading part in your show? It strikes me that it is a very difficult + part. I should think it would take some one like Modjeska or Julia Marlowe + to play it properly. She is—" "My dear Mr. Bingle, Amy is just the + woman for the part of Deborah. I am sure of it—positively. The + trouble is that I'm afraid the managers will insist on putting in somebody + with a name—like Ethel Barrymore or Nazimova or Maude Adams. That's + going to be the rub, you see. Of course, I shall not give in to them. It + is Amy Colgate or no one." He looked very rueful despite this firm and + dauntless speech. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle stared at the fire for a few minutes, his lips pursed in an + expression that spoke of calculation. + </p> + <p> + "I have been thinking, Dick," he said at last; "thinking very seriously of + taking a little flyer in the—er—theatrical business." + Immediately upon uttering this astonishing remark he became very red in + the face and shifted his gaze to the remote upper left-hand corner of the + room. + </p> + <p> + Figuratively speaking, Mr. Flanders fell upon his neck. Inside of thirty + minutes, Mr. Thomas Singleton Bingle was in a position to regard himself + as a producing manager and Miss Amy Colgate, one of America's most + promising young leading women, was on her way to become a star, to say + nothing of the ascendency of Richard Sheridan Flanders as a playwright. + The difficulties were all swept away. A Broadway theatre was no longer a + hope; it was a certainty. Mr. Bingle could buy all the "time" he wanted in + any house along the Great White Way. It wouldn't be necessary to squabble + over the relative drawing powers of Ethel Barrymore or Maude Adams, nor + was it anybody's business who Amy Colgate was or where she came from—to + use the words of the elated dramatist—and it didn't make a bit of + difference whether the second week's "gross" was smaller than the first. + Mr. Bingle was back of the play and that settled everything. + </p> + <p> + "I have great faith in the play," admitted Mr. Flanders, with becoming + modesty. + </p> + <p> + "So have I," agreed Mr. Bingle enthusiastically. He had been dazed, yet + vastly impressed by the unintelligible phraseology of the stage as it ran + from the glib lips of the eager young man. He was flattered by Dick's + assumption that he was perfectly familiar with the theatre from box office + to "gridiron." + </p> + <p> + "And what's more," added the playwright, "I have faith in Amy." + </p> + <p> + By this time Mr. Bingle had unbounded faith in the young actress, and said + so with considerable fervour. Whereupon, the jubilant author suggested + that they send for Miss Fairweather at once and acquaint her with the + glorious news. But Mr. Bingle shook his head. + </p> + <p> + "No, we can't do that," he said, looking at his watch. "Lessons are not + over yet. Ten minutes left, I see. She's still a governess, Dick. One job + at a time. The stage can wait." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Flanders sighed but smiled. Then, for no especial reason, he slapped + Mr. Bingle heartily on the back and laughed aloud. He had no words to + express his accumulative joy, so he laughed—and there were tears in + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "We'll have the best production that money can buy," said Mr. Bingle, + swelling ever so slightly, after the manner of practised managers. "An + all-star cast, and scenery by Sargent." + </p> + <p> + Later on, in the privacy of Miss Fairweather's schoolroom, the author and + the star discussed the great sensation, and you may be surprised to learn + that there were two sides to the discussion. Miss Fairweather was a + sensible young woman, although amazingly beautiful, and she took a most + extraordinary view of the situation. + </p> + <p> + "It isn't right, it isn't fair, it isn't playing the game, Dick," she + protested, resolutely releasing herself from his embrace after listening + for a long time, with throbbing heart, to his song of triumph. "Poor, dear + Mr. Bingle! He is doing it out of the goodness of his heart. I am not a + 'star' and I am not 'big' enough to be featured on Broadway. It would be a + sin to let him put his money into a certain failure. I will not listen to + you, Dick. Much as I love you, I still have a conscience and it will not + allow me to sacrifice that simple soul. Why, don't you know what would + happen? The critics would go into convulsions over the attempt to foist a + silly little—" + </p> + <p> + "But, hang it all, Amy, you've got it in you to surprise New York," he + cried earnestly. "I KNOW you can do it. Good Lord, I wouldn't take a + nickel of Mr. Bingle's money if I didn't believe you could make good. Why, + I've got a conscience too, much as the confession may surprise you." + </p> + <p> + "You are carried away by excitement, dear," she said softly, patting his + cheek. "Just stop and think for a minute. Who am I? What have I ever done? + Where have I—" + </p> + <p> + "But can't you see that the PLAY will be the making of you? The part is a + wonder. You can't help creating a sensation with such a role to carry you + along. Now, I'm not conceited—not a bit of it—but I do know + this much: this play and this part are going to turn Broadway upside + down." + </p> + <p> + "I could agree with you, dear, if you had some one like—oh, well, if + you won't allow me to talk, I—please let me say it, Dick." His + kisses had played havoc with her ideas. "Now, DO listen to me! It's all + very well to SAY that I am qualified to turn Broadway—" + </p> + <p> + "Of course, we don't have to 'star' you at the outset," he interrupted, + suddenly resorting to reason. "We needn't feature any one at the start. If + you make good—and I know you will—why, the papers will see to + it that your name goes up in electric lights over the little old front + door. I daresay you're right in going slow, dear. I am so excited that I + don't know whether I'm on my feet or my head. Now, let's talk it over + calmly, sensibly, sanely. The upshot of the whole matter is this: my play + is to be produced and you are to play the part of Deborah. We don't have + to ask any beastly theatrical manager to read the play and we don't have + to go down on our knees to get a job for you. Mr. Bingle is going into + this thing with his eyes, open. He tells me he has faith in the play and + in you, and as he happens to have a great many millions of dollars we + ought to have faith in him. He will put the piece on in bang-up style. He + realizes that there is a chance for failure, but so does every man who + puts his money into a theatrical production. It is part of the game. It is + up to you and me, Amy, to see that Mr. Bingle comes out of this thing a + winner. He—" + </p> + <p> + "Wait, dear," she interrupted, her fair brow-clouding. "What of Mrs. + Bingle? What will she say to this exploit of his?" + </p> + <p> + "Isn't he the master in his own house?" demanded Dick loftily. Still, a + spark of dismay leaped into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "He is a good man, Dick. He never permits himself to forget that she is + its mistress. She will have something to say on the subject, you may be + sure of that. I am not quite certain that she approves of the stage, and + I've heard her say that actresses must be dreadful creatures if one + believes all one hears about them smoking cigarettes and stealing young + boys out of college. That was before she knew of my late lamented past. + She has been perfectly lovely to me since, however, and I believe she is + pleasantly excited by my 'gossip of the footlights,' as she calls it. She + asked me the other day if it is true that chorus girls are more sinned + against than sinning."' + </p> + <p> + "She did?" he cried, grinning. "And what did you say to that?" + </p> + <p> + "I said it was quite true," she said flatly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, it won't hurt her to think that they'd all be angels if they had + their way about it. Now, let's get back to facts, dear. I've told Mr. + Bingle that the play can be finished in a month or six weeks. He is for + putting it on at once, but I don't believe it's good business to risk + trying it out at the tail end of a very bad season. Things are bound to be + better in the fall. My idea is to begin rehearsals late in the summer, + play a couple of weeks in the tank towns to whip the thing into shape, and + then go into New York some time in September. I'll begin getting a cast + together this spring—none but the best, you understand—and + that will give us a fair chance to go into Broadway with a corking + production. Who do you consider to be the best leading man in the business + to-day?" + </p> + <p> + Now, Mr. Bingle WAS having quite a time of it with the mistress of the + house. In his new-found enthusiasm, he went to her at once with the word + that he had decided to make a subrosa invasion of the mimic world to help + out poor Flanders and to lay his hand against the prejudice and ignorance + that seemed to be throttling the theatre. + </p> + <p> + She listened to him in speechless amazement, not quite sure of her ears. + </p> + <p> + "Of course, I sha'n't permit my name to be mentioned in the matter," he + explained hastily. "That would be foolish, my dear. I shall have it + clearly understood that Dick is backing the thing himself—on + borrowed money, if needs be. Now, you see, Miss Colgate is a very clever + young leading woman and—" + </p> + <p> + "Leading woman?" queried Mrs. Bingle, blinking. She had laid down her + embroidery. + </p> + <p> + "Stage expression," said he loftily. "It means one who plays—er—plays + leads. Ahem! That is to say, one who takes a principal part in the show. + Miss Colgate is regarded as—" + </p> + <p> + It was then that Mrs. Bingle found her voice. After ten minutes, he + succeeded in changing the subject. In all his acquaintance with his wife, + he had never known her to be so scathing in the matter of words. She + succeeded in causing him to feel extremely small and sheepish, for after + all there was a world of justice and common sense in what she had to say + concerning his inspired offer to engage in an enterprise that was as far + from his understanding as the North Pole is from the South. + </p> + <p> + "But," he managed to insert, weakly, "it's only to help Dick out, to + encourage genius, to—" + </p> + <p> + "Genius your Granny!" she exclaimed. "Don't you suppose that these regular + theatre managers know genius when they see it?" + </p> + <p> + "Some of the best plays ever written have never seen the light of day," + said he. + </p> + <p> + "Then how does any one know that they were good plays, if they never were + played? Tell me that, Thomas Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "My dear, I am only repeating what history tells—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, answer this question then: what do you know about a play? Where do + you get your wonderful knowledge of dramatic composition?" + </p> + <p> + "I think you will acknowledge that I know my Shakespeare pretty well," he + said stiffly. + </p> + <p> + "But Richard Flanders isn't Shakespeare, Thomas. He's a reporter on a + daily paper. Now, for goodness' sake, be sensible. Don't make a fool of + yourself, dear. I know what's best for you. I—" + </p> + <p> + "I'm merely proposing to FINANCE the thing, Mary," he argued. "I'm doing + it because I like Dick and I want him to succeed. I do not set myself up + as a real manager. I'm what Dick calls an 'angel.' He says—" + </p> + <p> + "Well of all the—Do you mean to say that big, strapping fellow + called you an angel?" + </p> + <p> + "Theatrical expression," he said. + </p> + <p> + "I shouldn't have been surprised if you'd said that Miss Fairweather + called you an angel, but when it comes to—Oh, dear, what an awful + thing for one man to call another!" + </p> + <p> + "Now, see here, Mary, you don't under—" + </p> + <p> + But she interrupted him again and he sat back limply to wait for an + opportunity to get in the statement that he wanted most of all to make to + her—which, when the time came for him to speak, was this: + </p> + <p> + "Well, well, dear, we'll let the matter rest for a day or two. I only + thought you'd be interested in the experiment—you and I together, + you know—something new and thrilling. We could have a lot of fun + planning and secretly watching the play grow from day to day, and + discussing costumes and scenery, and meeting real actors and actresses, + and seeing the inside workings of the stage, and the green room—and + the dressing-rooms, and all that, you know. It's something we used to talk + about and wonder about, don't you remember? Remember how we used to sit up + in the balcony and wonder what was really happening behind the—" + </p> + <p> + "Indeed I do!" she cried, and her eyes sparkled. "I've always wanted to + have a peep behind the scenes and—" She had the good sense to stop + before she compromised herself beyond recovery—but she looked + extremely guilty. + </p> + <p> + "We'll talk it over to-morrow," said he. "It might be a relief to us to + have something like this to occupy our thoughts in case we—we + actually have to give Kathleen up to—By the way, Dick tells me he is + sailing for Europe to-morrow. I wonder what it means." + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Force? Is she going with him?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. For three months." + </p> + <p> + She reflected. "I'll tell you what it means, Tom," she said, leaning + forward to lay her hand upon his knee. "He has told her everything." + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe it!" + </p> + <p> + "You mark my words, Tom. He has told her. They are going abroad to thrash + it all out, that's the long and short of it." + </p> + <p> + "I wonder," said Mr. Bingle, wide-eyed and sober. Long afterward he came + out of his reverie, and said: "I forgot to tell you that Swanson spoke to + me yesterday about his sister's latest. I was awfully sorry for the poor + chap, my dear. He seemed most anxious to see the child comfortably + settled. His sister is a scrub-woman in the Metropolitan Life Building. It + appears that she has been supplying families with children for the past + ten or twelve years. Her husband is a most unfeeling brute. He says that + the babies interfere with her work, and so she has to either give them up + altogether or let the charity institutions take care of 'em for her. She + goes on faithfully having 'em every year, and he goes on objecting to + them. Swanson says she has managed to keep two of the older ones, but the + last five or six she has been obliged to dispose of. Now, this new one is + a bright little thing, he says—quite the flower of the flock. The + woman's husband, it seems, has been out of work for seven years, and + curses dreadfully about the child. The poor woman spoke to Swanson last + week, asking him to see if we wouldn't take this one to raise. Swanson is + sure that if we took it now we could be practically certain that it would + never acquire the Swedish dialect. Of course—" + </p> + <p> + "You did not give him any encouragement, did you, Tom?" she cried sharply. + </p> + <p> + "Well, not—er—exactly," he said, looking away. + </p> + <p> + "Well, don't!" she exclaimed. "You know I have my heart set on having a + French baby next." + </p> + <p> + "So you have," he said brightly. "I'll not forget it, my dear. As a matter + of fact, I spoke to Rouquin, our foreign exchange manager, about it not + long ago. He is quite French, my dear. He says there will be no trouble + about it. It will be no trick at all to get a French baby. He says he + already knows of a half-dozen actual descendants of the nobility, aged + from one year up to ten, any one of which we can call our own by simply + saying the word." + </p> + <p> + "He shall be called Richelieu. Dick for short," mused Mrs. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "I thought we contemplated a girl," said he. + </p> + <p> + "It is always possible for us to change our minds, isn't it, Tom?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly, my dear. We'll have a boy if you like. In a pinch, we can + always change the gender at the last minute. Let's not give it another + thought. I'll take it up with Rouquin the first time I'm in town. As for + Swanson's sister's child—well, never mind. We sha'n't have it. He + says its name is Ole at present but I suppose it could be called Richelieu + if taken in time. Still that's neither here nor there. I've been thinking + lately, my dear, that we ought to call our next boy Joseph—after his + grand-uncle, don't you see. We owe that much to poor old Uncle Joe. Will + you bear it in mind?" + </p> + <p> + "We COULD call the next one Josephine," she said. + </p> + <p> + He grinned. "Uncle Joe would turn over in his grave," said he. + </p> + <p> + That evening Mr. Force telephoned to Seawood. + </p> + <p> + "That you, Bingle?" came in rather muffled tones over the wire. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, this is Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "This is Force. We are sailing to-morrow for—" + </p> + <p> + "I can't hear you. Stand a little closer to the 'phone, please." + </p> + <p> + "I say we are sailing to-morrow for Europe. I'm standing close to it, + Bingle. There's some one in the next booth. I can't yell, you know. I—" + </p> + <p> + "Where are you?" + </p> + <p> + "At the Plaza. I just wanted to tell you that I've fixed everything up + with the detective agency. Not a word of that little matter will ever + become public. Their lips have been sealed." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's heart swelled. "Do you mean that the matter is—er—permanently + closed? Are you going to let me keep her?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly NOT! What kind of a father do you think I am? Now I'll tell you + what I want you to do. I want you to be particularly careful about that + child while I'm away. Don't let anything happen to her. Take the best of + care of her, Bingle. I shall hold you personally responsible. And see + here, there's another point on which I want to be especially firm. I don't + want her to be thrown with the other children any more than can be helped. + I—What's that?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing. Go on." + </p> + <p> + "Some of those kids of yours are not precisely what I would call + thoroughbred. See what I mean? No reflection, of course, Bingle. I + wouldn't say this if they were your own, understand, but—well, + they're not, so that's all there is to it. I shall have to ask you to + engage a special companion for Kathleen, and I have arranged with a Madame + Dufresne to—" + </p> + <p> + "See here, Force, I—" + </p> + <p> + "—to call on you this week. She is an excellent woman, refined and a + lady of very good family in France. She is a friend of Rouquin's, in the + bank. He knew the family in Paris. I took the liberty of telling him that + you wanted to engage a French LADY to act as companion to your eldest + child. I trust you will see to it that Kathleen is not allowed to romp + about with the rest of those—er—the other children. This + Madame Dufresne will—What's that?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle had recovered his breath. His voice was high and shrill with + indignation. + </p> + <p> + "You will oblige me, Force, by permitting me to run my household as I see + fit. If this Madame What's-her-name comes out here to see me, I shall pack + her off to town again so quick her head will swim. We have brought + Kathleen up as if she was our own child, sir, and I don't care to have any + suggestions from you, sir. What's more, I must say—although it's + against the rules of the telephone company—you are a damned fine man + to be giving advice to me about the raising of your child. You—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh! For heaven's sake, Bingle, don't shout like that! Be careful, man!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, you leave Kathleen to me, that's all I've got to say. She shall + play with the rest of the children as much as she likes, Force. So far as + we are concerned, she's no better than the rest of them, understand that, + sir. She isn't going to be contaminated a darned bit more than she was + before you discovered that she was yours. And, as for that, she isn't + yours until I see fit to give her up. Understand that, too. Now, if—wait + a minute! I'm still talking. Now, if you think you can give me any + pointers on how to bring up children I want to say to you that you are + barking up the wrong tree. Don't you dare to send that woman here, and + don't you dare to dictate to me how—" + </p> + <p> + "Wait a minute, wait a minute, Bingle," came Mr. Force's agitated voice + through the transmitter. "For heaven's sake, don't fly off the handle like + this. I—I thought I was acting for the best interests of every one. + I was only trying to help you out in—" + </p> + <p> + "I don't need any help," said Mr. Bingle crisply. "Have you told your + wife?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I have," said Force. "That's—that's why we are going abroad + for a few months. She—" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Bingle was right, then. She usually is. What is her attitude?" + </p> + <p> + "Devilish bad, Bingle—devilish, that's all I can say. I can't talk + to you over the telephone about it. I'll—I'll write you from Paris. + I'm—I'm working with her, that's all I can do at present. I believe + she'll come around all right in the end. I'm sure she will. I'll—I'll + let you know." + </p> + <p> + "Says she won't have the brat in her house, is that it?" said Mr. Bingle, + with a queer rasp in his voice. + </p> + <p> + "I can't talk to you over the telephone. Didn't you hear me say so a + minute ago?" + </p> + <p> + "You can say yes or no, can't you?" + </p> + <p> + "She's pretty much upset over the business." + </p> + <p> + "Speak up! I can't hear you." + </p> + <p> + "I'll drop you a line in the morning. Now, Bingle, you will take good care + of the child, won't you. She—" + </p> + <p> + "I shall take good care of all of them, Force." + </p> + <p> + "And now about this Madame Du—" + </p> + <p> + "She is out of the question, Force. Good night!" + </p> + <p> + "Just as you say, old man. I sha'n't insist if you are opposed to—" + </p> + <p> + "Good night!" + </p> + <p> + "But I will feel a great deal easier in my mind if she isn't allowed to + come in contact with the rest—" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle hung up the receiver. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI — A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE + </h2> + <p> + The Forces returned from Europe late in February. They cut their visit + short because Mr. Force's jubilant cablegram to Mr. Bingle drew from its + recipient a reply so curt and effective that there could be no mistaking + his stand in the matter of Kathleen. + </p> + <p> + Toward the end of the first week in February, Mr. Force cabled: + "Everything smoothed out. Rejoice. Wife keen about K. Insists on having + her with us over here. Send her over at once with Dufresne. Never was so + happy in my life. Force." + </p> + <p> + The reply was: "Come and get her, but bring your wife with you. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "I am not sure that I trust Force," said Mr. Bingle to his wife as they + discussed the banker's message. "Like as not he wants to get the child + over in Europe and leave her there with strangers until she grows up, or + something of the sort. What proof have we that he has told his wife? How + do we know that she is keen about Kathie? She never has been. As a matter + of fact, she brags about her hatred for children. Openly says she despises + 'em. Prefers her dogs and cats, and all such rubbish as that. No, sir, + Mary; I don't pack Kathie off with a strange Frenchwoman, destined for + heaven knows what, and that's all there is to it. The thing looks fishy to + me. Maybe it's, a plot—a dark, cruel plot to get the child out of + the country. If he wants me to believe that Mrs. Force is keen about + Kathie, she'll have to say so herself, in so many words, and, blame me, + Mary, I don't believe I'll let her say 'em by telegraph either." + </p> + <p> + "But he is the president of the bank, Thomas," said Mrs. Bingle, as if + that were all that was necessary to put him above suspicion. + </p> + <p> + "I am not dealing with the president of the bank, my dear," said Mr. + Bingle stiffly. "I am dealing with my next door neighbour, and I have a + mighty poor opinion of him. The boy is waiting. I'll just write an answer + to his cablegram and get it off at once." + </p> + <p> + The day after they landed in New York, Mr. and Mrs. Force paid a formal + visit to the Bingle mansion. They came out from town by motor, arriving at + four in the afternoon. Mr. Bingle was expecting them. They had telephoned, + saying they could stay but a short time and made it quite clear that it + wouldn't be necessary to serve tea. They were staying in town for a few + days before going on to Florida. + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock they motored swiftly away from Seawood. The ordeal was + over. Kathleen was to go to Mr. and Mrs. Force. The wife of a "man called + Hinman" was to mother the child of Agnes Glenn. + </p> + <p> + It was to be very simple and easy for the Forces; like their kind, they + left the hard part of the bargain to Mr. Bingle. He was to tell Kathleen + of the great change that was soon to take place in her life. He was to + tell the happy, loving little girl that she was no longer to call him + daddy, that she was to go and live with the man she feared and disliked. + That was the part of the bargain left to the one who loved her best of all + and who would not have given her an instant's pain for all the world. He + was to deliver her, with scant excuse or explanation, into the hands of + strangers—cold, unfeeling strangers. It would be the same as saying + to the child that he did not care for her any longer, that he did not love + her, that he was willing to give her up to Mr. Force without so much as a + pang of regret. For he could NOT tell her the truth. She was never to know + about the carbolic acid and the days of starvation. She was only to know + that Mr. Force was to be her daddy from this time forward and that Mr. + Bingle could never be anything more to her than Uncle Tom. + </p> + <p> + But after he told her, he cried.... Still, they were not to take her away + until the end of the week, and that was five days off. + </p> + <p> + An unsuspected astuteness in the character of Thomas Singleton Bingle + reveals itself in the declaration, now to be made for the first time in + this present history of the man: he never allowed his wards to look upon + themselves as his own children. They were taught to call him daddy and to + look upon him as a substitute supplied by God to take the place of a real + father, and by the same token Mrs. Bingle became mother to the brood, but + they were safe-guarded against the surprise and shock of future + revelations—revelations that so frequently spoil the lives of those + who have lived in happy ignorance. Mr. Bingle, gentle soul that he was, + had the heart to look ahead in this pleasant game of his. He saw the + cruelty of a too loving deception. He foresaw the desolating results of a + too great faith in chance. So his children were taught to regard him in + the light of a protector who was satisfied to have them feel that he was + under obligations to them instead of the other way round. It was his joy + to be called daddy, and in return for this simple tribute he lavished upon + them all the love and tenderness of a true father and a great deal of the + consideration that a child deserves, but seldom gets, from its own + pre-occupied and self-satisfied parent. + </p> + <p> + Kathleen knew that she was not the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. She + had always known that she was the daughter of a Mr. and Mrs. Hinman, both + deceased. In the case of Reginald—and, in a way, Harold also—there + was some uncertainty. As the former advanced in years and characteristics, + it became more and more apparent to Mr. Bingle that his fifth-born was not + of Italian descent, despite the fact that the authorities at the + Foundlings' Home had him down on the records as the offspring of a Mr. and + Mrs. Vanesi, lost in one of the factory fires in the city of Brooklyn. Mr. + Bingle was convinced, as time went on, that the tags on certain infants + had been accidentally misplaced by careless attendants, and that + Reginald's nick-name, bestowed by Frederick and Wilberforce in their + frivolous wisdom, was not so far out of the way as it might have seemed if + he had not been possessed of his own vague misgivings. They called him + Abey. As for Harold, he was unmistakably Irish, although the hospital + people declared that he was German to the core when Mr. and Mrs. Bingle + went there to pick out a healthy Teuton to add to their collection. They + were positive that they wanted a German baby; nothing else would do, they + announced clearly and positively to the superintendent in charge of the + maternity ward. The superintendent was most gracious about it. She said + they could return little Fritz if he didn't come up to the mark in every + particular. What more could a German fancier desire than a child whose + name alone stood for all that one could possibly seek in Teutonic + research? Fritz Bumbleburg:—that was the infant's name and his + father's name before him. Surely Mr. Bingle wouldn't demand anything more + German than that. Moreover, Fritz's mother was German-American and she had + been the wife of Fritz's father for a matter of five years or more. Still, + in spite of all this, Fritz (re-christened Harold while he was still too + young to raise a voice in protest) was unmistakably Irish, or at least + part Irish. It is also worthy of note that Mrs. Bumbleburg ran away with + an Irish policeman some weeks after the infant Fritz's advent into the + world, which would go to show that the mother, at any rate, had Celtic + inclinations if nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Kathleen took it very hard at first. She was inconsolable until the + desperate Bingle began to dilate upon the wonders of Florida. Miss + Fairweather was called in to corroborate all that they had to say about + the gorgeousness of that southern fairyland, and as a group they did very + well when one stops to consider that not one of them had ever been south + of Washington, D. C. The child cheered up a bit. She began to take some + interest in the matter of dress. Following that, she revealed considerable + enthusiasm over the prospect of going south in a private car with a + personal maid of her own, and could have a change of frock twice a day for + a week at a stretch, to say nothing of being allowed to eat in the public + dining-car if it pleased her to do so. That thing of eating in the + dining-car was a master-stroke on the part of Bingle. It was the greatest + inducement he could have offered to the child in support of the claim that + she ought to be the happiest creature on earth, going away with Mr. and + Mrs. Force like this. + </p> + <p> + Frederick and Wilberforce openly declared—in the presence of Mr. and + Mrs. Bingle—that you bet they'd go in a minute if they had the + chance to see the land where Melissa's pirates and smugglers did most of + their plundering—an attitude that created an unhappy half-hour for + Melissa later on in the day. Any one else but Melissa would have received + her walking-papers. + </p> + <p> + The frocks, the personal maid, the prospect of the dining-car and the + assurance that it wouldn't be necessary to call Mr. Force "daddy" until + she became a little more accustomed to seeing him around, brought Kathleen + to a proper way of thinking. She became quite eager to go! + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Mr. Bingle to his wife, after the storm, "I fancy we'd better + make an appointment with Rouquin as soon as possible. I am really quite + enthusiastic, my dear, over that idea of yours to have a cute little + French baby. The sooner we get it the better, I say. It is going to be + pretty lonesome for awhile. Somehow I hope we find one that cries a good + deal. It would cheer us up considerably, I'm sure, if we had something + like that to annoy us, especially at night. We shall probably lie awake + anyhow." + </p> + <p> + Frederick was causing them no little anxiety. The boy wasn't eating well. + He was beginning to look a bit peaked. Dr. Fiddler was puzzled. He could + not discover anything wrong, and yet could not account for the + listlessness that had come over the lad during the past few weeks. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Frederick was in love—quite desperately in + love. The object of his adoration was the beautiful Miss Fairweather. No + doctor in the world could have properly diagnosed the youngster's case, + for the simple reason that Frederick's disease was a perfectly healthy + one, and when you confront a doctor with anything in the nature of health + you stump him completely. He doesn't know what to do about it. + Nevertheless, Dr. Fiddler—being a great man and entirely ignorant of + Frederick's complaint—gave him castor oil. + </p> + <p> + Now this same Dr. Fiddler undoubtedly had been in love at the tender age + of twelve. What man is there to-day who was not desperately afflicted at + that age, and who is there among us that has forgotten the experience? Who + is there among us, past the age of thirty, who cannot tell without an + instant's hesitation, the name of the mature young lady who first assailed + his susceptibilities? Who can honestly say that he doesn't remember the + school-teacher, or the choir-singer who taught the Sunday-school class, or + the lady who came to visit mother and went away engaged to a friend of + father's, or the nurse who queened it over the house when mother was ill + and who devoted entirely too much time to the new baby? There is always + one full-grown, lamentably old young lady in the life of every boy, and + her name is imperishable. It is invariably MISS Somebody-or-other. No man + can recall the Christian name of his first love for the very good reason + that he never knew it. The universal lady is always MISS So-and-so. Even + the most ardent of twelve-year-olds never forgets that his heart's desire + is a lady whose years demand the most respectful consideration. Dr. + Fiddler, having loved and lost, should have appreciated the tender passion + that took away Frederick's appetite and made of him a melancholy sufferer. + What Frederick needed was the moral support of a physician who would + recommend and supply a quick and deadly poison with which Mr. Richard + Flanders could be permanently squashed. + </p> + <p> + Melissa was his only friend and comforter. The children, and the servants + who were not too busily engaged with their own affairs, openly scoffed at + the love-sick young gentleman. Wilberforce sustained a bloody nose in + retaliation and Watson, being a special offender, met with a painful and + unaccountable accident one day while passing between the kitchen and the + milk-house. A full-sized brick dropped from heaven knows where—(it + must have come from heaven judging by the way it felt)—and as + Watson's hat happened to be directly in the path of its descent the + unfortunate footman was unable to tease Frederick for the better part of + two days immediately thereafter and had to have six stitches taken in his + head besides. Oddly enough, the only place from which a brick was found to + be missing was in the walk leading to the stables, and Butts, being a + thrifty soul, filled up the vacant spot with the heaven-sent substitute, + having found on investigation that it fitted the vacuum perfectly. It was + Melissa who kept Watson from taking out a warrant for young Master + Frederick. She spoke very sharply to the damaged footman about something + that had completely escaped the notice of Mr. Bingle, who, being no + smoker, wouldn't have missed them if Watson had taken a whole handful of + cigars a day instead of two or three twice a week the year round. + </p> + <p> + The privileged maid had read love stories from the time she was ten years + old up to the beginning of her affair with Diggs the butler. The pleasant + discovery that the mighty Diggs had taken a shine to her quite destroyed + all of her interest in romance as it is written. She was not long in + finding out that the people who write love-stories are not to be depended + upon for accuracy in the depiction of passion. Diggs gave her an entirely + new idea of manly devotion. Instead of adhering to the well-known and + well-preserved formulas set down by the fictionists he behaved in a + perfectly astonishing manner. He became acutely bashful and apprehensive, + so much so, in fact, that for a while Melissa imagined that Mr. Bingle had + given him notice because of the mistletoe episode on Christmas Eve. The + poor fellow seemed to be dodging her all the time. And when she came upon + him suddenly or unexpectedly he always began winding his watch and talking + about the extraordinary resemblance she bore to a girl he had once known + in England. The shock, therefore, was tremendous when Diggs asked her if + she thought she could ever learn to care for him in THAT way. It was + almost a week before Melissa could think of an answer to this astonishing + question. It was "yes." + </p> + <p> + And so, having but recently suffered the surprise of her life, Melissa + rushed to the succour of young Frederick. She whispered words of + encouragement into the ear of the despairing youngster, and urged him to + stand by his guns. + </p> + <p> + "You never can tell what is going to happen," she said. "Look at me, for + instance. What could have been more miraculous than the thing that + happened to me, Freddie? Who could have ever dreamed of Mr. Diggs falling + in love with me? An important person like him falling heels over head in + love with the likes of me! Can you beat it? Well, that's what I mean when + I say you never can tell. You just keep a stiff upper lip, Freddie—and + grow a little, of course—and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if + you conquered the proud Miss Fairweather's haughty heart. Nothing—NOTHING + on God's earth would surprise me now. Go in and win, Freddie. Of course, + she is about twelve years older'n you are at present, but as time goes on + she'll be getting younger. We always do. By the time you are thirty you + will have caught up to her, I can tell you that. Take Mr. Diggs, for + instance; he thinks I am only twenty-six. He says it's a crime for a man + of his age—he's thirty-seven—to be making eyes at a soft young + thing like me. He knows I'm only twenty-six, but what he don't know is + that I was born nearly ten years before he even starts to counting. Now, + in a very few years you will be twenty. Well, by that time she will be + only eight years older than you are. You see, women don't put on years as + rapidly as men. It's a peculiar trick of nature. I don't suppose there is + another living creature in all God's dominion that lives as long as a + woman does before it can get past thirty. Take Miss Stokes, the nurse, for + instance. She's been nearly nine years going from twenty-seven to + twenty-nine. So there you are. You just keep on growing up, Freddie—you + needn't hurry, either—putting on a year every twelve months, and + before you know it you'll be six months older than Miss Fairweather. Then—" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, but how about this big Flanders?" protested Frederick. "He's already + grown-up and—" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing to it," said Melissa, "He hasn't got any money. He can't give her + diamonds and fine raiment. He's got to ask her to wait till he's able to + marry, hasn't he? Well, while she's about it, why shouldn't she wait for + you? It all amounts to the same thing. You'll be able to marry her just as + soon as he is. Now, don't be discouraged. Cheer up." + </p> + <p> + "You're awfully good, Melissa," said Frederick gloomily. + </p> + <p> + "And what's more, don't let 'em guy you about her. Mr. Diggs don't let any + one guy him about me, you can bet. And say, if you can manage to sneak one + of Mr. Bingle's razors out of his room some day, I'll shave you. There's + nothing like getting your whiskers started early." + </p> + <p> + "Gee, Melissa, will you?" + </p> + <p> + "Like a shot. Let me feel your chin. Why, I swear to goodness, there's + something there already. It's—" + </p> + <p> + "Honest, Melissa? Do you really mean it? I thought it was only fuzz." + </p> + <p> + "Fuzz your granny," said Melissa stoutly. "In a couple of months you could + get a beard like a billy goat if you shaved regular." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want chin whiskers. I want a moustache." + </p> + <p> + "And in the meantime," went on Melissa with rare diplomacy, "you may see + some one else that you like better than Miss Fairweather. That very + frequently happens to a fellow when he's busy trying to get a beard." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think she likes Mr. Flanders, Melissa?" A great deal depended on + her answer. That was to be seen by the expression in his young blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," said she promptly. "Everybody likes him. I like him. So does + your ma and so does your pa. That's nothing to go by. Why, I'll bet you + like him yourself. He's a fine fellow." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think he's very good looking?" + </p> + <p> + "In a way, yes," said Melissa, musingly. "I shouldn't call him quite + perfect, however." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think he's as good-looking as Diggs?" + </p> + <p> + "I used to think so, but—Now, that reminds me: if you ever say a + word to anybody about Mr. Diggs and me being enamoured of each other, I'll + have nothing more to do with you—not a thing, d'you understand? It's + a secret. Your pa and ma are not to know about it until we get ready to + announce our engagement." + </p> + <p> + "I'll never tell," promised the young lover. + </p> + <p> + "And here's another thing: Don't you ever let on to Mr. Diggs that I'm + over twenty-six. If you do, I'll tell your pa that you're using his razor, + and—well, say, that would be a mortification for you. Miss + Fairweather would never get over laughing at you. Do you know, I'm awfully + sorry for Mr. Flanders. He is a fine fellow, and it will break his heart + if you get her away from him, Freddie. It seems too bad for a rich young + gentleman like you to be pitted against a poor, struggling newspaper man + whose heart is afire with—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, gee, Melissa, don't talk like that," cried Frederick in distress. "I + DO like him, and I don't want him to ever be unhappy." + </p> + <p> + "That's the way to talk," she cried warmly. "That's regular nobility. + Let's give him an equal chance, Freddie. If he can win, all well and good. + We'll take our medicine. If he loses, why he can take his." + </p> + <p> + "I wish I was as old as he is," mourned Frederick. + </p> + <p> + "Poor fellow," sighed Melissa, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. "I + DO feel sorry for him. I hate to see a fine, honourable gentleman's heart + busted as you are likely to bust his for—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, goodness!" gulped Frederick, his soul filled with pity for the + unfortunate Flanders. He suppressed a sniffle, and then, after a moment + consumed in re-ordering his emotions, went on brightly: "Of course, if she + loves him, Melissa, I shall be the first to wish him joy. That's the kind + of fellow I am." + </p> + <p> + "I wonder," mused Melissa, "if that's the kind of a fellow he'd be if some + other fellow won his lady love away from him in a fair contest?" + </p> + <p> + It so happened that Mr. Flanders placed a diamond-ring upon the third + finger of Miss Fairweather's left hand that same afternoon, and it also + happened that the starry-eyed young lady submitted to a tender embrace + immediately afterward. But a fortnight passed before Frederick, pale and + wan with the anguish that lay in his young soul, could command the courage + to go up to his big rival and wish him joy. For two weeks his heart had + bled, for, be it also recorded, young Frederick happened to be lurking + unseen in the library when the ring was passed. He saw the big man take + the slim, adored princess in his arms, and he saw her face upturned to + greet the lips that came down to meet her's in—Alas! Poor Frederick! + </p> + <p> + Right bravely he accosted Mr. Flanders one day as the brisk young man came + swinging up the drive on his way from the railway station. Flanders + usually came at three in the afternoon. This habit was known to Frederick. + He also knew that the tall conqueror spent an hour with Mr. Bingle before + Miss Fairweather descended from the school-room. In fact, every movement + of Mr. Flanders from the instant he appeared on the estate to the moment + he left it in a dash for the train, was known to the small victim of the + green-eyed devil. + </p> + <p> + On this momentous occasion he resolutely laid in wait for Mr. Flanders + near the lodge-gates. He had steeled himself against the bitterest moment + in his life. + </p> + <p> + "Hello," he said, suddenly stepping out of the shrubbery and confronting + the pedestrian, who brought himself up with a jerk. + </p> + <p> + "Hello," said Richard. "Getting the air?" + </p> + <p> + "I want to speak to you, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick, with immense + gravity. + </p> + <p> + "Come along then, lad, because I'm in a rush. I have to catch the five-ten + in to-day." + </p> + <p> + "I wish you wouldn't take such long steps." Flanders obligingly reduced + his stride so that the boy was not forced to run to keep up with him. "I + cut lessons, sir, to have a word with you. I just want to wish you good + luck and joy, Mr. Flanders. You have won the heart and hand of the fairest + lady in the land." + </p> + <p> + Flanders stopped in his tracks. "I say, youngster, that's—that's + corking of you." He was blushing. "I had no idea that you children were on + to us, so to speak. Thank you, Freddie." + </p> + <p> + "I have been on to you, Mr. Flanders, from the beginning. She is the + loveliest lady—" he swallowed hard—"in the world, and I just + wanted to tell you that if you don't treat her well I'll—I'll—well, + you'll see." + </p> + <p> + Flanders was not smiling. He understood boys. He laid his big hand on the + little fellow's sturdy shoulder and said, very seriously: + </p> + <p> + "I consider myself most fortunate, old chap, in having the advantage of + you in years. If you were my own age, I should have stood small chance of + winning the loveliest lady in the world. Shake hands, Freddie. I shall + treat her well, my lad. If I fail in any particular I hope you'll take a + shot at me on sight. I'm sorry, too, my boy." + </p> + <p> + "That's all right, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick bravely. "I bend the knee + to a worthy rival, sir. I—I—" The words trailed off into + indistinct murmurings, for he had completely forgotten the rest of the + high-sounding sentences supplied for this very encounter by the helpful + Melissa. She had written them out for him and he had learned them by + heart. And now they failed him! + </p> + <p> + Flanders allowed his grip to tighten on the boy's shoulder. "You will get + over it, Freddie. I had a similar affliction when I was your age. It was + pretty rough, but I pulled through." + </p> + <p> + "I shall never love any one else, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick solemnly. + "I shall never be untrue to her." + </p> + <p> + "Well, it's fine of you to take it in such a manly fashion, old chap. It's + great. Not many fellows could have done what you've done. I'm sure I + couldn't. It took grit to come out here and tell me this. Shake hands + again, my boy. And I now promise that I shall keep her happy if it lies in + the power of a human being to do so. You may depend upon it, Freddie." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Mr. Flanders. I have great confidence in you. I trust you. If + you should ever require the support of a strong and willing henchman in + time of dire trouble or conflict with merciless—merciless—" He + stopped in distress. Once more Melissa's well-turned sentences went back + on him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the all-important noun. + </p> + <p> + "Scoundrels," supplied Mr. Flanders kindly. + </p> + <p> + "No, that isn't the word," said Frederick, thinking hard. "Merciless—merciless—Oh, + yes—renegades! If you should ever require the support of a strong + and—" + </p> + <p> + "All right," cried Flanders. "I understand. I'll call on you, you may be + sure." + </p> + <p> + "There was something more I wanted to say, but the—the words don't + seem to come as they ought to." + </p> + <p> + "It's this beastly weather," said Flanders. "I never can think well in + cold weather. I seem to freeze up." + </p> + <p> + Frederick was relieved. "I guess maybe that's it. When are you going to + marry her?" The last was a genuine, unrehearsed inquiry and completely + summed up the situation so far as he was concerned. + </p> + <p> + "It isn't quite settled. A great deal depends on circumstances." + </p> + <p> + "Money?" + </p> + <p> + "In a way, yes." + </p> + <p> + "What does she say about it? Is she willing to wait eight or ten years for + you?" + </p> + <p> + "She says she will wait forever," said Flanders, a bit puzzled by the new + turn. + </p> + <p> + "Well, that's all right, then," said Frederick and to Richard's amazement + he squared his shoulders and heaved a long sigh, as of relief. "Excuse me, + please, I've got to hustle. Melissa—" He stopped in painful + confusion. It had been on the tip of his ingenuous tongue to blurt out + something that would have spoiled all that had gone before. It had to do + with Melissa's present whereabouts and her oft-repeated claim that if + Flanders kept Miss Fairweather waiting long enough he'd lose her, sure as + a shot! + </p> + <p> + An amazing thing happened to Frederick that evening, just before bedtime. + Miss Fairweather kissed him sweetly, not once but thrice, full on the + lips, and told him that he was the nicest little boy in all the world. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII — THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Bingle saw Monsieur Rouquin again. The excellent manager of the + foreign exchange assured the vice-president that he could now guarantee to + procure the most adorable of French infants at a moment's notice, an + infant that he could personally recommend in every particular. + </p> + <p> + "Sir," said Monsieur Rouquin, "it is impossible to imagine a more perfect + child, let alone to create one. I have seen thousands, millions of babies, + M'sieur Bangle, but not one so—" + </p> + <p> + "Bingle," corrected the vice-president. + </p> + <p> + "It is my abominable, unpardonable dialect," deplored Rouquin, who spoke + English without a flaw. "Millions of babes have I seen, but not one so + wonderful as this one. It is a—ah—it is a perfect specimen of—" + </p> + <p> + "You say 'it,' Rouquin. Am I to understand that its gender is unknown to + you?" + </p> + <p> + "No, no!" cried Rouquin. "To be sure I know the sex of this adorable + infant. I know the parents—" + </p> + <p> + "What is it? A boy or a girl?" + </p> + <p> + Rouquin closed an eye slowly. "Ah, M'sieur Bang—Bingle, may I not + leave the question of sex to the child itself? What could be more + beautiful than to present to your notice a perfect example of humanity, + without uttering a single word to aid you in your speculation as to the + gender, and then to sit calmly back and relish the joy you will reveal + when you find that you have guessed correctly the very first time, as the + boys would say? That would be the magnificent compensation to me. You will + need but one glance at this wonderful specimen. One glance will be + sufficient. You will instantly exclaim: 'What a monstrous fine boy—or + girl!' as the case may be. Ah, sir—" + </p> + <p> + "I must have a boy," said Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Rouquin looked relieved. He permitted a roguish light to steal + into his eyes. "I still implore you to keep your mind open, Mr. Bingle, + until you have seen the child I have in mind. Permit me this little, + silly, boyish pleasure, sir—the pleasure of hearing you exclaim—out + of a clear sky, so to say—'Ah, what a monstrous fine—'" + </p> + <p> + "All right, Rouquin," broke in Mr. Bingle. "Only I warn you that if it + isn't a boy, it will be a case of love's labour lost on your part." + </p> + <p> + "M'sieur, I beg your pardon," said Rouquin, a trifle stiffly. "Does + M'sieur mean to imply—to insinuate that—" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing of the kind," said Mr. Bingle hastily. "It's a saying of + Shakespeare, Rouquin. Of course, love's labour is never really lost. It's + a figure of speech." + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" said Monsieur Rouquin, smiting himself on the forehead. "I should + have known. Have I no brain? Listen! I tap my head. Does it not give out a + hollow sound, as if entirely empty? Say yes, my dear sir. I shall not be + offended. To have misinterpreted the polite—Ah, but, it is of no + consequence. Pray proceed, sir." "Proceed?" muttered Mr. Bingle, frowning. + "There's nothing more to the quotation, Rouquin, so far as I know. Merely + 'love's labour lost,' no more. But I would like to ask a question or two. + Are the parents of this child quite respectable people?" Rouquin rolled + his eyes upward. "Utterly," he said, with deep feeling in his voice. + </p> + <p> + "Healthy?" + </p> + <p> + "Parfaitment!" + </p> + <p> + "What does that mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Perfectly, my dear Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Oh! And are they married?" + </p> + <p> + "Mon dieu!" cried Rouquin, turning scarlet. "Absolutely, sir—incontestably." + </p> + <p> + "I mean, to each other." + </p> + <p> + "Monsieur jests," was all that Rouquin could say. He wiped his brow, + however. + </p> + <p> + "Well, when may we see the child? When can we talk it over with the + parents?" + </p> + <p> + "That is for you to say, sir." + </p> + <p> + "To-morrow afternoon?" + </p> + <p> + "I shall so arrange it, sir. Will not you and Madame Bang—Bingle + honour me with your presence at a little tea-room—quite an excellent + and refined place that I know of—before we go to inspect the child? + It will give me the greatest pleasure if—" + </p> + <p> + "See here, Rouquin, that's most kind of you, but I'd prefer to have you + take tea with Mrs. Bingle and me. Do you know of a nice, but thoroughly + typical French restaurant where we could—er—get a bit of the + atmosphere, don't you know? We are figuring on taking a trip to Paris soon + and we'd like to—well, you know what I mean? Quiet, respectable + place, you know. Nothing rowdyish." + </p> + <p> + Rouquin's eyes sparkled. His joy was great. "Ah, I know of such a place. + But it is not a tea-room, in the strict sense of the term. It is a cafe + where one has the finest table d'hote dinner in all New York for one + dollar per person, wine included. Ah, if Monsieur would only condescend to + dine there, AFTER we have seen the child, I am sure—" + </p> + <p> + "I'll telephone you in the morning," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes gleaming. + "I shall have to speak to Mrs. Bingle about it first." + </p> + <p> + It was left that they were to visit the infant and its utterly respectable + parents at four on the following afternoon. Rouquin had already assured + Mr. Bingle that only the direst necessity made it possible for the + wretched father and mother to even THINK of giving up their greatest + treasure, this marvellous infant. In fact, it was only because they loved + the child so dearly that they were content to see it pass out of their + lives. For, said Monsieur Rouquin, they were so poor and so proud that + suicide was the only thing left for them in this terrific struggle with + adversity, and what was to become of the child if they killed themselves? + They would not murder their adored one, and, while it was quite possible + for the father and mother to destroy themselves, one really couldn't + expect a fifteen months old child to take its own life by involuntary + starvation—which was unspeakable. And, said he, they couldn't + consider suicide without first making sure that their beloved was safely + provided for. After that—well, they could then go about it quite + happily, if needs be. Mr. Bingle was deeply distressed. + </p> + <p> + Rouquin had quite a surprise for them when they called at the bank for + him. As he settled himself gracefully in the seat beside Mrs. Bingle, he + announced that he had arranged with the heart-sick parents to fetch the + babe to his humble apartment at half-past four, where at least one could + be sure of avoiding the unfriendly presence of a too-persistent + rent-collector, to say nothing of the distressing odours of extreme + poverty. Indeed, said Monsieur Rouquin, it was not improbable that they + might find the excellent Rousseaus in the apartment on their arrival + there, as he had given directions to the janitor to admit them without + question. He couldn't bear the thought of poor little Madame Rousseau + standing outside in the cold hall with that adorable infant in imminent + peril of freezing to death because of insufficient apparel. + </p> + <p> + "Are they descendants of the great genre painter?" inquired Mrs. Bingle. + There was a small painting by the great Barbizon artist in the Bingle + drawing-room. She had been reading up on Rousseau, and Miss Fairweather + had told her how to pronounce genre. + </p> + <p> + "That I cannot affirm, Madame," said Rouquin, with infinite regret in his + voice. "It is possible, even probable, that Monsieur Rousseau is a direct + descendant, but I am not in a position to say so with authority. I shall + make it a point to repeat your question to him." + </p> + <p> + "It would be most interesting to have a descendant of Rousseau in the same + house with one of his masterpieces, and under the conditions we face, + don't you think, Mr. Rouquin?" Mrs. Bingle had never been quite secure in + her pronunciation of monsieur, so she avoided the word. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Rouquin agreed that it would be amazingly interesting, and then + went on to say that he had known Madame Rousseau while she was still + petite Marie Vallamont, but his acquaintance with her husband was of short + duration. In fact, he knew little about him except that his great + grandfather had been beheaded at the time of the revolution, which was in + itself sufficient proof that he was descended from the aristocracy if not + the nobility of France. + </p> + <p> + "You are aware, of course," said he, "that only the aristocracy had their + heads cut off during those eventful days." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes, indeed," said both Mr. and Mrs. Bingle so promptly that Monsieur + Rouquin at once changed the subject. He realised that they knew quite as + much if not more of French history than he. + </p> + <p> + As he had suspected, the Rousseaus were awaiting them in the apartment. + They were very nice looking young people, rather shabbily attired in + garments which, though clearly the cast-off apparel of more prosperous + owners, were still neat and remotely fashionable. Madame Rousseau was + quite a pretty woman, with a soft, restrained voice and a tendency to say + "Oui, Madame," with great frequency and politeness. Her husband, poor as + he was, sustained the credit of aristocracy by smoking innumerable + cigarettes, with which he appeared to be most plentifully supplied. "You + found my cigarettes, I see. That is good," said Rouquin, shortly after the + introductions. He spoke somewhat tartly, as if an idea had just occurred + to him. He shot a furtive glance at Mr. Bingle as he made the remark. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes," said Rousseau, after an instant's hesitation. "I beg Madame's + pardon. Does the smoking annoy?" + </p> + <p> + "Not at all," said Mrs. Bingle. "I am used to it. Mr. Bingle smokes a + pipe." + </p> + <p> + "Well, where is the baby?" said Mr. Bingle, declining the cigarette which + Rousseau proffered in the absence of hospitality on Monsieur Rouquin's + part. + </p> + <p> + "Oh," said Madame Rousseau, "it sleeps. I have put it into Monsieur + Raoul's warm bed. Such a cruelty it would be to awake the baby, M'sieur." + </p> + <p> + "I think I'd like to see what it looks like while asleep, Madame," said + Bingle, with the air of a shrewd bargainer. "You see, I've become quite an + expert on babies. I don't believe there is a better judge of—I beg + your pardon. I forgot to inquire if my English is quite intelligible. Do + you follow me?" + </p> + <p> + "Your English is perfect, M'sieur," she assured him, brightly. "May I say + that it surprises me. I have been in your America for five years and I + have not before this hour heard an American speak the English language so + perfectly—" + </p> + <p> + "Ahem!" coughed Rouquin, and Madame Rousseau completed her estimate of Mr. + Bingle's English by spreading her hands in a gesture which signified utter + inability to express herself in words. "Shall we peep into my bedroom?" + went on the foreign exchange manager. + </p> + <p> + "Said the spider to the fly," came quite distinctly from Monsieur + Rousseau. + </p> + <p> + "Remember," cautioned Rouquin, his hand on the door-knob, "you are to + guess what it is, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose I'm to have two guesses," said Mr. Single, with a chuckle. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," said Rouquin. "Provided your first guess is wrong." + </p> + <p> + Stealthily the group entered the bedroom of Monsieur Rouquin. The window + shades were down. The room was quite dark. On the bed was a dimly + distinguishable heap. + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" whispered Madame Rousseau, putting a finger to her lips—which + in the light of the sun were singularly red and unstarved. + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" echoed her husband. + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" said Rouquin. + </p> + <p> + On tip-toe they all advanced upon the heap, now resolved into a pile of + pink blankets. Mr. Bingle leaned far over the heap. Then he put on his + spectacles. + </p> + <p> + "Where is it?" he whispered. + </p> + <p> + "Mon dieu!" gulped the young mother, in consternation. She whipped the + blankets off the bed. There was no baby. A second later she darted through + a door on the opposite side of the room, slamming it violently behind her. + Monsieur Rousseau started to laugh but cut it short and sputtered Mon dieu + three or four times in a choked voice. + </p> + <p> + "What does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Bingle. "God bless my soul!" + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Madame Rousseau was confronting a motherly looking person + in Monsieur Rouquin's bath-room, down the little hall. The motherly + looking person was holding a fat, yellow-headed baby on her lap and to the + mouth of the fat, yellow-headed baby was attached the business end of a + half-emptied milk-bottle. + </p> + <p> + The conversation was in whispered French, and of exceeding bitterness on + one side. It is not necessary to repeat what was said. It is only + necessary to explain that the motherly looking person was the infant's + grandmother—in fact the mother of Madame Rousseau. From certain + disjointed explanatory scraps that fell from the motherly person's lips it + might have been divined that the baby awoke some time before the arrival + of the great philanthropist, and that grandmere deemed it to be the part + of wisdom to feed it thoroughly before submitting it for inspection. No + one takes to a howling brat, she protested. Besides, what was she there + for if not to look after the child of her ungrateful, selfish daughter who + had not the slightest feeling of—But, all this time, Madame Rousseau + was informing her mother that she was a meddlesome, stupid old blunderer, + and that the fat was in the fire. She snatched the baby from the old + lady's arms. The bottle crashed to the tile floor and painted a section of + it white, its pristine hue. The infant was too surprised to cry. It + maintained an open-mouthed silence even as its mother whisked out of the + bath-room and brought the door to with a bang, leaving grandmere in the + centre of a pool of white, still whispering shrilly that even though a + wise father might by chance know his own son, a mother never could hope to + know her own daughter. + </p> + <p> + Messieurs Rouquin and Rousseau were talking loudly, rapidly and very + excitedly to each other—in French, of course—when Madame burst + into the room with the infant. Mr. and Mrs. Bingle, still staring at the + unoccupied bed, had nothing but blank bewilderment in their honest faces. + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" shouted the two Frenchmen joyously. + </p> + <p> + "That stupid servant!" squealed Madame Rousseau, hugging the baby to her + breast in frantic relief. "Oh, what a fright I have had. Take the baby, + Jean. Mon dieu! Do not let it fall! Oh, m'sieur, madame, you will never + know how I was anguished. I thought I had lost my darling, my adored one. + The black-hand what-you-call-him—non, non, the kidnapper. My baby! + Jean, Jean, do not let it out of your sight again—never, do you + hear. Now, madame, will you not be kind enough to look at my baby? Come, + m'sieur, to the window. Jean, pull up the shade." + </p> + <p> + Jean almost dropped his precious burden in his eagerness to do as he was + bidden, and might actually have done so but for the timely intervention of + Monsieur Rouquin, who sprang to the window and sent the shade up with a + crash that caused Mrs. Bingle to jump with alarm. + </p> + <p> + "See!" shouted Rouquin, stepping back and pointing proudly at the baby. + </p> + <p> + "God bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, the darling!" cried his wife, and tried at once to take the + sunny-faced youngster from the arms of Monsieur Jean. But Jean held on + very tightly, apparently awaiting orders. It may have been the unusual + fervour of the father's clasp that caused the child to whimper, or it may + have been that it never had seen such an expression in its parent's face + before. At any rate, as it looked up into Jean's swarthy countenance it + began to cry; where upon Madame Rousseau exclaimed shrilly: + </p> + <p> + "Can't you see, Jean? Madame would hold my baby to her breast. Quick! You + big simpleton! Ah, madame, my poor Jean is so sad, so broken-hearted over + the thought of losing his child that he—There! See! See the lovely + smile once more?" + </p> + <p> + It was true that the instant Mrs. Bingle received the plump wriggler in + her arms, the beaming smile was restored. Jean moved quickly into the + background, and turned his miserable face away from the scene. + </p> + <p> + The Rousseau baby WAS adorable, there could be no mistake about that. In + previous experiences, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle had encountered half-starved, + unhappy, whining infants. This was the first time they had come upon a + lusty, apparently over-fed specimen, and they were at once filled with the + joy of covetousness. Thick yellow curls, bright blue eyes, and cheeks that + would have shamed the peach's bloom—and a nearly completed row of + tiny white teeth—such was the Rousseau applicant at first glance. + Moreover, its clothing was clean, soft and sweet-smelling of fabrics that + do not often find their way into the houses of the poverty-stricken. + </p> + <p> + "Wait!" exclaimed Rouquin, fairly dancing with exuberant joy. "Wait! Now, + Mr. Bingle—now for the guess, sir. I give you but one guess. What is + it—a boy or a girl?" + </p> + <p> + Madame Rousseau clasped her hands ecstatically upon her bosom. "Oh, as if + my baby could be anything but—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" hissed the master of ceremonies. + </p> + <p> + So much whirlwind excitement as all this, so much radiant joy over the + disposal of a baby, had never entered into any previous negotiation, and + Mr. Bingle was quite carried away by the novelty of the situation. Never + before had the ceremony resolved itself into an enigma, a puzzle, so to + speak, in which it was his privilege to make one guess. + </p> + <p> + "It's a boy," said he, with conviction, whereupon the mother, the father + and Monsieur Rouquin filled the room with joyous exclamations and the + baby, imitative little beggar that he was, crowed with delight. + </p> + <p> + Madame Rousseau could not get over the despicable behaviour of Rouquin's + servant. She kept on berating the creature and advising Rouquin to dismiss + her, until at last Mrs. Bingle announced that the poor thing undoubtedly + had acted for the best and out of the goodness of her heart. She also said + that she would like to see the woman. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Rouquin being of a mind to dismiss the presumptuous domestic, + Mrs. Bingle blandly declared that, if her references were all as good as + the one Madame Rousseau was giving her, she wouldn't hesitate for an + instant to engage her to look after the child in case it joined the Bingle + collection. There were voluble protests in French from both Madame + Rousseau and Rouquin, and then Monsieur Jean announced in English that the + old servant was like a mother to Rouquin and that he would as soon think + of cutting off his right hand as to allow her to go out of his life. + Rouquin glared at him for this, and the shabby-genteel Jean had the + audacity to close one eye slowly. + </p> + <p> + Madame Rousseau's mother was permitted to remain in the bath-room, and no + further reference was made to her. + </p> + <p> + "Well, let's get down to business," said Mr. Bingle, presenting his + forefinger to the babe for inspection. Monsieur l'Enfant promptly seized + it and conveyed it toward his earnest mouth. "No, no!" cried Mr. Bingle + reprovingly. "Mustn't do that. Naughty, naughty! The microbes will get you + if you don't watch out. Dear me, what a strong little rascal he is! By the + way, what is his name?" + </p> + <p> + "It has been Napoleon," said the mother. "But he can be made to forget it, + m'sieur, if you desire." + </p> + <p> + "Napoleon Bingle," mused Mr. Bingle, and then sent a sharp, questioning + glance to his wife. She gravely nodded her head. "Not at all bad. Ahem! + Shall we return to the other room? Naturally there are a great many + questions to be asked and answered. Rouquin, will you oblige me by getting + a pad of paper and taking down all of the—er—statistics?" + </p> + <p> + It developed that Napoleon Rousseau, now sitting bolt upright in Mrs. + Bingle's lap and staring wide-eyed at the interesting face of Jean + Rousseau, was a trifle over fourteen months of age, born in New York City, + the son of Jean and Marie Vallemont Rousseau, persons lawfully wedded in + the city of Paris by a magistrate—(Madame explained that while the + certificate with all of Jean's paintings had been destroyed in the fire + which wrecked their tiny apartment soon after their arrival in New York, a + copy could easily be obtained if M'sieur et Madame insisted on going into + such small details)—and of sound health so far as could be known at + this time. He had survived the heat of one summer and had actually thrived + on the frigidity of this, his second winter, notwithstanding the fact that + he had frequently slept without covering in their poor, wind-swept attic. + </p> + <p> + "Splendid!" said Mr. Single, casting an admiring glance at the rubicund + Napoleon. "A hardy chap, by Jove. Of course, Madame, you understand that + it will be necessary for you to appear with us before the proper + authorities and sign certain papers, and so forth, before the baby can be + legally adopted by Mrs. Bingle and myself. The law provides that you and + your husband shall release all—" + </p> + <p> + "Mon dieu!" muttered Madame Rousseau, and as she had uttered the + expression no fewer than twenty times in the past half hour, Mrs. Bingle + was less favourably impressed with her than at the outset. To Mrs. Bingle + "Mon dieu" was blasphemy. "Is not my word sufficient, m'sieur? I freely + give my child to you. I am its mother. No one else has a right to say what—" + </p> + <p> + "Ah, but you forget its father," interrupted Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Monsieur Jean, amiably. "Has the child's father nothing to say + about—" + </p> + <p> + "Be quiet, Jean," broke in his wife severely. Then to Rouquin: "You did + not so inform me, M'sieur Rouquin. You told me nothing of this going into + a court or what-you-call-it. I am aghast. Why do you not tell me of this, + M'sieur Rouquin? Is it not enough that I give up my beloved Napoleon? Am I + to be humiliated by revealing my misery, my despair—" + </p> + <p> + "Now, now," broke in Mr. Bingle kindly, feeling extremely sorry for the + unfortunate Rouquin, who, after all, was trying to befriend the woman. The + face of the foreign exchange teller was quite livid, no doubt from the + effect of a suppressed indignation. "It is really nothing to be worried + about, Madame. We merely go before a magistrate in Chambers and swear to + certain things—both of you, of course—and that's all there is + to it. You must declare that you, as the mother of Napoleon, voluntarily + relinquish all claim to him in favour of his foster parents, and we, in + turn, swear that—well, that we will bring him up as our own, and—er—don't + you know. That's quite simple, isn't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Quite," said Rouquin. + </p> + <p> + "And you, Mr. Rousseau, will be obliged to swear that you, as well as your + wife, forfeit all claim, present or future, to this child, and do so + without force or duress. Of course, I shall ask my attorney to explain + everything to both of you, so that you may not act without complete + understanding. Before we go before the Court, you will be instructed in + every move you are to make. And now, Madame, will you be willing to take + oath that you are the mother of Napoleon and as such will henceforth cease + to regard him as your son in case we conclude to adopt him as our own?" + </p> + <p> + Madame Rousseau looked from Jean to Rouquin and then from Rouquin to Jean, + quite helpless in the face of this requirement. Rouquin and Jean looked at + each other, and Jean's jaw was set rather hard and there was an anxious, + uncertain look in his eyes—a look not far short of being rebellious. + The young mother covered her face with her hands and began to sob + violently. For some reason, Jean's jaw relaxed. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, my poor little Napoleon!" she moaned. "How can I give you up? My + angel Napoleon!" + </p> + <p> + "See here," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, touched by this sudden aspect of misery, + "I'm a very tender-hearted man. If you will permit me, Madame, I may be + able to arrange a way for you and your husband to find a means of living + comfortably on good wages, and you may then be in a position to keep + little Napoleon—" + </p> + <p> + "No, no!" cried she instantly—almost fiercely. "I could not think of + it, M'sieur. I cannot consent to any—" + </p> + <p> + "Pardon me," interrupted Rouquin blandly. "Allow me to propose a—" + </p> + <p> + "I shall not listen to any proposition that may include Jean and myself in—" + </p> + <p> + "In other words," said Rouquin, turning to Mr. Bingle, "she will not + accept charity for herself or her husband. They are very proud, Mr. + Bingle. They would die before accepting charity from—" + </p> + <p> + "A thousand times!" blurted out Monsieur Jean, wiping his brow. "Count me + out!" + </p> + <p> + "Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + Napoleon began to cry. He had a lusty pair of lungs. Almost instantly, the + motherly looking person appeared in the doorway. She had been waiting for + Napoleon's signal. + </p> + <p> + "See!" she cried, holding up a bottle of milk. "I have it! To the + dairy-lunch and the chemist's I have been while—" + </p> + <p> + Rouquin leaped forward and snatched the squalling Napoleon from Mrs. + Bingle's arms, and an instant later deposited him in those of his maternal + grandmother, who in almost the same instant was pushed rudely out of the + room. The door was quickly closed. Napoleon's howls receded. + </p> + <p> + "Now," said Rouquin, "we may talk in peace. My faithful old servant, + Madame," he went on, turning to Mrs. Bingle with his rarest smile. "I do + not know what I should do without her. She has gone out for the milk and—Ah, + what a treasure she is! Mon dieu, how I appreciate that wonderful Fifi! + That is her name, Madame—Fifi. Ah! Sublime—" + </p> + <p> + "She didn't look like a servant, Mr. Rouquin," said Mrs. Bingle, recovered + from her surprise. + </p> + <p> + "You speak of her dress, Madame? Has she not declared but now, this + instant, that she went out to the chemist's, to the dairy-lunch? Catch + Fifi on the street in her servant's dress! No, no! She spends her wages on + dress, vain creature. She would no more think of venturing upon the street + in—but, we waste time. Of what interest can be the foibles of my + poor old servant to you. Madame? Come, Marie—you see I have known + Madame Rousseau these many years, M'sieur—come, let us assure Mr. + Bingle that he need have nothing to fear if he decides to do you—and + poor old Jean here—the honour of adopting your most fortunate baby." + </p> + <p> + Madame Rousseau dried her eyes upon a singularly pretty little + handkerchief, and then smiled beatifically. + </p> + <p> + "M'sieur need have no fear. I shall take the oath for my grand, my + adorable Napoleon's sake. After that, what shall I care what becomes of + me. He shall be safe. That is enough." + </p> + <p> + "Good!" cried Mr. Bingle. Then he turned to the silent, glowering Jean. + "And you, my good man. Will you also take oath that Napoleon is your son + and that you, as his lawful father—" + </p> + <p> + "I say, Rouquin," began Jean in a far from amiable tone. Rouquin at once + took him by the arm and led him into the bedroom, whispering fiercely all + the way. + </p> + <p> + "My Jean is very proud," explained Madame Rousseau, dabbing her nose and + eyes with a bit of a powder rag. "He is so obstinate, too. But M'sieur + Rouquin will talk sense into his head, never fear." + </p> + <p> + There was an awkward silence. Finally Mrs. Bingle spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Is your husband a descendant of the painter?" + </p> + <p> + Madame Rousseau looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + "He IS the painter, Madame." + </p> + <p> + "The—impossible! I refer to the great Rousseau of the 1880 school." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I see. No, no—he is not that one. Jean was not yet born. Mon + dieu, was there another Rousseau?" + </p> + <p> + "There was," said Mrs. Bingle tartly. "Jean is the painter of to-day. He + is great, he is splendid, he is magnificent. But, la la! he is so poor!" + </p> + <p> + "That seems to establish him all right," said Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + Rouquin and Jean reappeared. Both were smiling cheerfully. Jean affected a + somewhat degage manner and a perceptible swagger. + </p> + <p> + "Very well, M'sieur," he said. "I'll swear to it." + </p> + <p> + "Then I shall leave the details to my attorney, who, you will discover, is + a most conscientious, dependable person. In the meantime, when will it be + convenient for Dr. Fiddler to examine Napoleon?" + </p> + <p> + Rouquin explained at some length in rapid French, and Madame Rousseau was + once more consoled. Jean appeared to be somewhat bored. He yawned, in + fact. + </p> + <p> + "And now," cried Monsieur Rouquin in a great voice, "I have a plan. Let us + celebrate the birth of Monsieur Napoleon Bingle by dining together at + Pierre's. This day he is born again—or, at least, prospectively + born. Life for him really begins to-day—the sixth of March. It is my + treat! I shall be the host on this memorable occasion. Pierre shall give + to us the best duckling in his larder and the rarest bottle of—" + </p> + <p> + "But my dear Rouquin," began Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "I implore you, kind friend, to honour me with your presence this evening. + The greatest day of my life shall be this one if you but consent to grace + my board with your lovely lady. And poor Madame Rousseau and her amiable + husband shall not be the ghosts at the feast, as one might suspect, but + joyful spirits. To them we will drink a toast of good will and better luck + next time, and they may drink to you, madame and sir, the health of one + grand Napoleon Bingle, in whose past they both shared but whose future can + only be a—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I say, Rouquin," broke in Monsieur Jean languidly, "why not make it + 'many happy returns of the day'? That's the real issue." + </p> + <p> + Rouquin coughed violently, and, upon recovering himself, went on with a + slight modification of his rapture: "Whatever should come of this day's + work, we should all drink deeply to the health, prosperity and fame of a + future president of the United States—Napoleon Bingle! Come, Madame + Bingle, you cannot refuse to join your humble servant and petitioner in + one jolly, epoch-making—though absolutely respectable—celebration + in honour of our little Napoleon. And you, M'sieur—Ah, you, sir! + Have you not in prospect the alliance of your own honoured name with that + of the most notable Frenchman of recent times? Napoleon! Bingle! Ah, think + of it! Bingle—Napoleon! We can afford to overlook the fact that + Napoleon was a Corsican and not a—real Frenchman. We can—" + </p> + <p> + "Just as we must overlook the fact that little Napoleon is a Rousseau and + not a Bingle," said Mr. Bingle drily. + </p> + <p> + "Quite so, quite so," agreed Rouquin hastily. "Napoleon Bonaparte was the + adopted son of France, and Napoleon Rousseau is the adopted son of the + great Thomas Bingleton Single—" "Singleton Bingle," corrected Mr. + Bingle, as Rouquin hesitated in evident appreciation of his mixed + consonants. + </p> + <p> + "I am sure Madame Rousseau will not feel like joining in a feast at this + time," said Mrs. Bingle. "It is hardly an occasion for jollification—" + </p> + <p> + "Ah, Madame," cried Madame Rousseau, with sparkling eyes, "it is not for + myself that I would jollify, but for the adored Napoleon. It is for him + that I would rejoice. Is he not to become rich and honoured, and is he not + to be given by law a name that he can never be ashamed of as long as he—" + </p> + <p> + Rouquin broke in again, hastily and somewhat apprehensively. "Let us save + our fine phrases for the banquet board. Ah, I can see it in M'sieur + Bingle's face! He will accept my little hospitality. He will come with + Madame to Pierre's. He will make me to be forever honoured among men. He—" + </p> + <p> + "I'll come on one condition only, Rouquin." + </p> + <p> + "And what is that, M'sieur?" + </p> + <p> + "That I may settle the bill." + </p> + <p> + Rouquin was amiable. He shrugged his shoulders and beamed. "I should be + the last to say no to any demand of my guests. If it would give you + pleasure, sir, to pay for my dinner, I shall not protest. I am the most + courteous of hosts. The smallest wish of my guests must be gratified. + However, sir, I reserve the right to order the dinner which I am giving. + You will not deny me that, I am sure." + </p> + <p> + "By no means," cried Bingle. "Order whatever you like, Rouquin. I've never + been able to order anything from a French bill-of-fare but + pate-de-foi-gras. It's your dinner, Rouquin, not mine. But, we are going + ahead too fast. We have not yet heard from Monsieur Rousseau. Will he be + willing to join us?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure," said Monsieur Jean. + </p> + <p> + "And what about the baby? Is it right for us to take a small child to a + public cafe where there may be drinking and—" + </p> + <p> + "My dear Mrs. Bingle," cried Rouquin, "pray have no thought of Napoleon's + comfort on this occasion. I shall insist upon Madame Rousseau leaving him + here—in my humble dwelling—until called for. That is to say, + in charge of my wonderful Fifi, who will care for him completely during + her absence. He shall have a stupendous supper and he shall be put to bed + happy. For once in his poor little life he shall have abundance of food + and the joy of a warm nest to lie in. Ah, it is a great day for Napoleon!" + </p> + <p> + Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle stepped into a new and hitherto + unsuspected world the instant they entered Pierre's. They stepped out of + it at ten o'clock that night and into a very commonplace, humdrum sort of + automobile and were whisked homeward by an astonished, unbelieving + chauffeur. They had drunk the health of Napoleon the present, Napoleon the + past, and Napoleon the future, and they had done it from cobwebby, mouldy + bottles out of the uttermost depths of Pierre's cellars. They were + pleasantly, agreeably conscious of going home, and they talked a great + deal of the vivacious, though heartbroken mother of little Napoleon, who, + despite her shabby frock, was the life of the party. And Monsieur Jean—he, + the great artist and stricken father—he too was gay and amusing. He + sang a wonderful little French song that was applauded violently by people + at the nearby tables, and he drew wonderful caricatures of the musicians, + the head waiter, the shockingly bad soprano, and of Mr. Bingle himself. + Rouquin alone was nervous and uneasy, but of course only on account of his + illustrious guests. He was constantly imploring both Madame and Monsieur + Rousseau to reflect before speaking, and they obeyed him by reflecting in + a thoroughly audible manner so that he might not be left in the dark as to + their intentions. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Bingle said good night on the sidewalk in front of the + restaurant. As the latter shook hands with little Madame Rousseau, the + mother of Napoleon suddenly fell to shivering. All of the gaiety fell from + her like a discarded mantle. Her piquant face became drawn and pinched and + her fingers clasped those of Mrs. Bingle in a fierce, almost painful grip. + She drew the elder woman apart from the group. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Madame, you will be good to my little boy," she whispered, beating + her breast with her free hand. "I am not gay. I am unhappy. I would not + give him up but his father insists it is for the best. I may see him some + time, may I not? I love him. He is my joy, my everything. To-night I sing + and laugh, but my heart is not light. Non, non! It is like a stone, like + ice. Oh, Madame, I implore you to be good to my little boy!" + </p> + <p> + She was crying softly. Mrs. Bingle put her arm about the bent shoulders + and drew the young mother close to her side. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you worry, my dear. We'll make a fine man of your little Napoleon. + Some day you will look with pride upon him and say: 'I'm glad I brought + that man into the world, even though he doesn't know it.' And I am glad + that you have cried. It makes another woman of you. I would say 'God bless + you,' Madame Rousseau, if it were not that he has already blessed you." + </p> + <p> + Later on in the night, Rouquin and his two companions paused at the foot + of a Sixth Avenue Elevated station. + </p> + <p> + "Good night, old fellow," said Rouquin, giving Jean's hand a mighty grip. + "You are a true friend." + </p> + <p> + Then Jean said good night cheerily and walked off down the street, + whistling gaily, as one who has completed an honest day's work. + </p> + <p> + I think I have neglected to mention that Rouquin was an exceedingly + good-looking, fascinating chap of twenty-eight or thirty, and unmarried. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII — TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! + </h2> + <p> + This chapter thirteen is an unlucky one for Mr. Bingle. Many unpleasant + things are crowded into the space devoted to this division of the + narrative, although in the matter of time we leap from early March to the + fifth of July with all the swiftness of one who races at break-neck speed + to get away from consequences, or to put a disagreeable task as far behind + as possible. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, Kathleen was permitted to remain with the Bingles far + beyond the date set for her departure in the custody of a new set of + parents. It so happened that on the very day selected for her departure, + which was early in March, Rutherford and Imogene came down with a fever + and a rash. Dr. Fiddler was summoned from the city. Just as he entered the + broad portals at the front of the house, two of the nurse-maids, Stokes + and Brown, walked swiftly down the back stairs with their suitcases and + bandboxes in their hands. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle was notified that they wanted to see him at once in the + library. They appeared to be in a great hurry to catch a train for the + city. From time to time, while they waited for the master of the house, + they cast nervous, apprehensive looks in the direction of the door through + which they had entered the room. Their apprehensions apparently were + justified by the abrupt arrival upon the scene of Wright and Quinlan, the + other nurse-maids, both of whom were hot and flushed and still in a state + of frowsy preparation for a journey. They too had their suitcases and + bundles and they too were trying to balance unfastened hats upon the top + of agitated heads. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle came into the room just in time to hear each of the four + accusing all of the others of trying to sneak off and leave her with the + bag to hold, or words to that effect. With his entrance, however, each of + the hasty nurse-maids was reminded of a dreadfully sick relative in town + and of the necessity for instant departure. What they wanted of Mr. Bingle + was their pay—and a reference. + </p> + <p> + The poor gentleman was flabbergasted. He wanted to know what had happened. + They told him in one voice that it was nearly train-time and that nothing + had happened, and would he please hurry. When he suggested that they + should wait and see Mrs. Bingle, they asked him to say good-bye for them, + and made for the door, crowding one another rudely in their eagerness to + be off. Brown saved the situation for herself and her companions by + shrilly declaring that she would drop him a line from New York, advising + him where to send her money and the reference, and for him not to bother + now, she would trust him, of course. And then they all trooped out of the + library and rushed for the front door. Three of them reached the outer air + and were gone forever, but one of them, Miss Stokes, was turned back by + the determined Watson, who clutched her by the arm and whispered a few + sharp, convincing sentences into her ear. She set down her suitcase and + began to cry, whereupon the footman kissed her and said that he'd despise + her if she didn't stand by Mr. Bingle now that he needed her so much; and + Stokes said that she was crying because she hated herself for even + thinking of leaving and that the other girls were the scum of the earth, + take it from her. + </p> + <p> + Well, it turned out that the two children had scarlet fever. Brown + happened to know that Imogene had been exposed to the disease during a + surreptitious visit to the cottage of the station agent, whose wife it + appears was a close friend of the nursemaid, and whose baby thrived + immensely on the rich foods from the Bingle establishment. So the instant + the rash appeared, Brown began packing her suitcase and trunk. She tried + to get away without letting the other girls into the secret, but they + suspected. What might have been a dignified resignation on Brown's part, + became a stampede. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon the Force automobile came for Kathleen. Mr. and Mrs. Force + were confronted by Diggs as they came up the steps. He gave them the news. + </p> + <p> + "The deuce you say," said Force, backing down the steps. "Has she been + exposed?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle appeared in the doorway. "Come in, please," he said, covering + his bare head with a newspaper. "Got some bad news for you." + </p> + <p> + "What the devil do you mean, Bingle, by running around among the riff-raff + of all New York, picking up germs and bringing 'em out here to a house + full of children? See what you've done, gallivanting around with Rouquin's + cheap—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, come now, Force! Don't blame poor little Napoleon. It takes ten days + or so for a case to develop and I saw Napoleon only two days ago. Come in, + won't you? I can't stand here in the—" + </p> + <p> + "No, thank you," exploded Mr. Force. "I've never had the infernal thing, + and it's usually fatal in adults. I wouldn't expose myself to it for a + million dollars. Shut the door, Diggs, confound you! Do you want to have + the microbes blowing out here into my very face? Get back in the car, + dear! Lord, what a nice mess it is. Hang it all, Bingle, didn't I tell you + in so many words not to let Kathleen play around with all those little—" + </p> + <p> + "Kathleen hasn't got it—yet," said Mr. Bingle hotly. "Only two of + 'em have shown—" + </p> + <p> + "We cannot consider taking her away with us now," said Mrs. Force, with + decision. "You can't expect us to expose ourselves to—" + </p> + <p> + "No, you can't, Bingle," broke in Mr. Force. "It's not to be thought of. + She's got to stay here until—until the thing's over." + </p> + <p> + "That is to say, until she gets well or dies," said Mr. Bingle, raising + his voice. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I'll send out a good doctor and a couple of nurses. And, see here, I + don't want this child cooped up with all the rest of 'em. I want her + placed in a separate room, as far as possible from the—" + </p> + <p> + "By jingo!" cried Mr. Bingle. "I believe it would be a good thing for the + child if she caught it and died. Good day, Mrs. Force. Better move + rapidly, Force. You see, I've been exposed—and so has Diggs. We're + alive with microbes." + </p> + <p> + And that is why Kathleen did not go South early in March—not until + late in April, for that matter, when she had completely recovered from a + particularly stubborn illness, and long after all of the others, except + little Imogene, were up and about. Imogene died. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fairweather was the angel in this season of tribulation. She was true + blue. Day and night she gave up to the care of the sick ones, and when it + was all over the roses in her cheeks were missing, but the light in her + eyes was bright. + </p> + <p> + Then Kathleen went away. Mr. Force, considerably humbled, apologised to + Mr. Bingle for as many things as he could remember, and Mrs. Force, after + all, did condescend to introduce Mrs. Bingle to her own exclusive + dressmaker. Napoleon came. Mr. Bingle watched the newspapers for an + account of the suicide of Monsieur and Madame Rousseau, but no such event + was reported. No doubt the approach of spring deterred them. They would + probably wait until cold weather set in again. + </p> + <p> + In order to encourage the struggling Rousseau, he bought, through Rouquin, + a rather startling painting by the young artist, in which a herd of red + cattle partook placidly of the skyline and a pallid windmill dominated the + foreground. Later on, an expert informed him that the red cattle were + rocks on the edge of a pool and the windmill was a lady making ready to + dive into the water for a lonely swim. The painting was signed, but the + name was not Rousseau. It was Fauret. Rouquin explained the discrepancy. + He said that young Rousseau preferred to paint under an assumed name—in + truth, it was his maternal grandmother's name—rather than to have + his canvases confused with those of the academic, old-school Barbizon + painter. He was above trading on a name that was fast becoming obsolete! + </p> + <p> + Then there came the astonishing disappearance of young Frederick. The + third day after Kathleen's departure, Frederick turned up missing. A week + passed before the detectives found him in Washington, penniless, + half-starved but valiant. He had run away from home to find Kathleen, for, + in his fickle heart, he had come to realise that it was she whom he loved + and not old Miss Fairweather at all. Extreme hunger and an acute attack of + home-sickness dampened his ardent regard for the distant Kathleen, for the + time being at least, and he was quite content to return to Seawood, where, + after all, he could have all he wanted to eat and at the same time reflect + audibly on the fact that he was a real hero. + </p> + <p> + Envy induced Wilberforce to run away a few days after Frederick returned + with his great tales of adventure, privation and gallantry. He got no + farther from home than White Plains, and was back at Seawood before nine + o'clock at night on the day of his flight, yet he had enjoyed so many + hair-raising experiences, rescued so many lovely girls from all manner of + perils, and soundly thrashed so many unprincipled varlets, that even + Melissa's narratives became weak and puerile when put up against the tales + he told to his pop-eyed brothers and sisters. He did not mention the sound + thrashing that he sustained at the hands of Mrs. Bingle, however, nor did + he attempt to account for the bitter howls that began to issue from behind + the closed library doors almost simultaneously with his return to Seawood. + These howls, it may be added, had a great deal to do with the decline of + enthusiasm among the other boys. Wilberforce's adventure in the library + was the one that made the deepest impression on them. + </p> + <p> + And this summary paddling of young Wilberforce, in direct opposition to + the wishes of his foster-father, who would have punished him in a less + drastic fashion, brings us to the gravest of Mr. Bingle's worries: the + curious change in Mrs. Bingle's attitude toward the children. + </p> + <p> + From being a loving, kind, sympathetic mother she lapsed into the opposite + in every particular. Her querulousness, impatience, even antipathy became + more and more marked as the summer advanced and Mr. Bingle, in dire + distress, consulted Dr. Fiddler. She scolded incessantly, spanked + frequently, complained from morning till night, and suffered headaches, + neuritis and kindred ailments to such an extent that the good doctor might + well have been pardoned for looking a bit wiser than ever before and + suggesting a change of scene and environment for the lady, whose nerves + undoubtedly had been affected by the troubles of the past few weeks. + </p> + <p> + Every one about the place observed and secretly commented on the amazing + change in the mistress of the house. The calm, serene, level-headed + manager of Mr. Bingle's household had developed into a cranky, dyspeptic + tyrant whose pleasure it was to be unfailingly displeased with everything, + and who, despite the fact that she was not yet forty-three, declared that + she was a broken old woman without the remotest hope of ever seeing a well + day again in her life. She was quite positive that she suffered from a + dreadful and incurable malady. She knew the symptoms, she had every one of + them, and no doctor in the world could convince her to the contrary—so + she said. Her greatest desire was to go to Peekskill, where she could find + peace and quiet and unutterable relief from the annoyances caused by the + little nuisances that Mr. Bingle had taken under his wing. In Peekskill + her mother and sister still lived the simple life, and that was what she + wanted more than anything else. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's gentle argument that he could not go to Peekskill with her + met with a petulant response. She made it plain to him that she realised + his preference for the children and that she was no longer of any use to + him as a companion or helpmate. For her own part, she'd like to see them + all in Jericho—meaning the children, of course. All of which shocked + and distressed poor Mr. Bingle beyond expression. + </p> + <p> + "What is it, Doctor? Physically she seems to be all right. Can it be that + she is going to pieces mentally? Why, she's always been the most loving, + gentle—" + </p> + <p> + "Nerves, Bingle—plain nerves. She'll be all right in a little while, + I'm sure. I'll have a look at her again next week. In the meantime, don't + pull such a long face. She is as sound as a dollar physically, as you say. + Leave her to me, old fellow. Don't cross her, don't let her see too much + of the children, and don't object to her going to visit her mother in—where + is it?—if she wants to do so. By the way, Bingle, I wouldn't adopt + any more children at present, if I were you. Wait for a year or two and + see how she feels about it." + </p> + <p> + "Would you advise a trip to Europe? We've been contemplating it for the + past ten years, but—I'm ashamed to admit it—we're both scared + out of our boots when we think of being out there on the Atlantic with two + or three miles of water under our beds every night and icebergs floating + all around us. We want to see Paris and London, of course. Every one ought + to see 'em if he can afford it. If you think it advisable, I'll take her + across this summer. Maybe if she got to Paris she'd forget she ever wanted + to go to Peekskill." + </p> + <p> + "I'll let you know what I think of it later on, Bingle. We'll see. I've + never seen your garden looking better than it looks this summer. You have + a treasure in that man Edgecomb. Come, let's stroll down to the Italian—" + </p> + <p> + "Not just now, Doctor," said Mr. Bingle hastily. "I think Miss Fairweather + and Flanders are down there enjoying the shade and the music of the + fountain." + </p> + <p> + The servant question was another bothersome thing for him to contend with. + They were dissatisfied and on the point of leaving, especially the new + nursemaids. A general increase in wages served as a temporary restraint, + and a second increase was plainly in sight. For the first time in his life + Mr. Bingle possessed a secret unshared with his wife: he did not tell her + of the raise in wages. + </p> + <p> + Flanders announced that rehearsals for the play would be started early in + July. The company had been chosen and a theatre taken in his own name. Mr. + Bingle preferred to remain a silent and unrecognised instrument in the + enterprise. He remembered in time that he was a deacon in the church hard + by, and was sorely afraid that while his own conscience might be perfectly + clear in the matter it wasn't by any means certain that the congregation + possessed the same kind of a conscience. + </p> + <p> + It became necessary, therefore, for Miss Fairweather to give up her place + and prepare for the task ahead of her, especially as her role called for a + bit of dancing in the second act, demanding considerable preliminary work + under the instruction of a teacher. Mrs. Bingle was rather glad to see her + go. Secretly she was beginning to mistrust the young lady's intentions + where Mr. Bingle was concerned. It was her recently formed opinion that + one can never trust an actress, no matter how closely she is watched or + how frankly she looks you in the eye while you are watching. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle called Miss Fairweather and the good-looking Flanders into his + study a few days before the time set for her departure. He closed the door + carefully behind them and then crossed over to glance out of the window + into the garden, where Mrs. Bingle was chatting earnestly with Dr. Fiddler + in the shade of a glorious oak. Mr. Bingle had had something on his mind + for a long, long time. The fate of Agnes Glenn was at the back of it. + </p> + <p> + "When do you two expect to be married?" he asked bluntly, taking them both + by surprise. They turned quite red and looked at each other in evident + dismay. + </p> + <p> + "Why, we—er—really, Mr. Bingle," began Flanders, "we thought + we'd wait until we see how the piece gets over and then—" He looked + to the embarrassed Miss Fairweather for help. + </p> + <p> + "If everything goes well, Mr. Bingle," she said, nervously, "we sha'n't + hesitate an instant. Of course, if it is a failure, we'll—well, it + really would be wise to wait for a little while until—" + </p> + <p> + "That's just the thing I want to get at," said Mr. Bingle. "Don't put it + off, my friends. Get married here, Miss Fairweather, to-morrow, next day. + I am your friend, and yours, Dick. My wedding present shall be—well, + I must ask you to leave it to me. I love you both. You have meant a great + deal to me. There is nothing I would not do for you, nothing I would not + shield you from if it lay in my power to do so. So, I ask you, my friends, + to be married here in my house before—" Emotion choked him. He had + been standing near the window at the beginning of his disjointed remarks. + As they progressed, he approached them with his hands extended. + </p> + <p> + The young couple grasped his hands and Flanders spoke. + </p> + <p> + "We can't do it, Mr. Bingle. It is out of the question. I'm sorry—terribly + sorry. You are a corker, sir. I—" + </p> + <p> + "For goodness' sake," began Mr. Bingle, imploringly. + </p> + <p> + "We would jump at the chance, Mr. Bingle, to be married here, if it were + not for one thing," went on Flanders, and then looked at Miss Fairweather. + </p> + <p> + "And what in the world can that be?" cried Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "We were married two months ago, Mr. Bingle," said Mrs. Richard Flanders + guiltily. + </p> + <p> + It was some time before they could make him believe it. She revealed her + wedding ring—suspended about her neck—and then Mr. Bingle + kissed her very soberly and with tears in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Two months ago!" he said, waveringly. "And God bless my soul, you spent + your honeymoon nursing a lot of sick children! Well, well, it beats all! + It isn't too late for a wedding present. I'll—" + </p> + <p> + Flanders interrupted him. "It is too late, sir," he said firmly. "We only + ask for your blessing and your good wishes, Mr. Bingle. You have already + given us too much. We shall never be out of debt to you. The play, the + theatre—" + </p> + <p> + "Ah, but I haven't spent a nickel on the play, you blundering booby," + cried Mr. Bingle heartily. "That is still to come. I want to do something + NOW." + </p> + <p> + "It will come soon enough, sir," said Flanders firmly. "We can't abuse a + friendship like yours." + </p> + <p> + "By George," cried Mr. Bingle; "you are a fine fellow, Dick, as I've + always said. You are a gentleman." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, sir," said Flanders simply, for he was a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + On the first day of July the incomparable Diggs gave notice. It was like a + clap out of a clear sky. + </p> + <p> + "My goodness, Diggs, you don't—you CAN'T mean it," gasped Mr. + Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "I do mean it, sir, I'm sorry to say, sir," said Diggs. "It was on my mind + to mention the matter last spring, sir, but the hunfortunate quarantine + made it quite out of the question. I wish to state, sir, that I would not + 'ave left your service at a time like that. You 'ave been the kindest, + most thoughtful of masters, sir, and I trust I shall never be the man to + go back on a gentleman who—er—I mean to say, sir, a gentleman + who deserves the best of treatment from his servants." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure I appreciate your good opinion, Diggs. But, tell me, is it a + matter of wages? If it is, I think we may be able to arbitrate the + question." + </p> + <p> + "No, sir. Wages has nothing to do with it, sir. My wages 'ave been quite + satisfactory, as my savings will prove. As a matter of fact, Mr. Bingle, I + 'ave laid by a very neat little sum, which I took the liberty of investing + in a small business before giving notice, sir, the hopportunity presenting + itself while you were so worried over the sickness that I felt it would be + quite wrong to disturb you with my affairs. We 'ave purchased a + green-grocer's business in Columbus Avenue—you might call it a sort + of general business, fruit, vegetables, hegg—eggs, coal, firewood + and vinous liquors, sir. We hexpect to take possession in a fortnight, + sir." + </p> + <p> + "We? Have you a partner?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. Watson, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Watson? Is—is he leaving me, too? Upon my soul, Diggs—this is + TOO bad!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir, it really is. I happreciate what it means, sir, as I told + Watson when he gave notice to me. I says to him, says I: 'Watson, Mr. + Bingle will 'ave a time of it getting any one to fill your place,' and + Watson says to me: 'And what about you, Mr. Diggs?' And I says 'Pooh!'" + </p> + <p> + "Watson gave notice to you, did he? When did this happen?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. The servants usually give notice to the butler. He did it the + day we bought out the business, sir," said Diggs, surprised that Mr. + Bingle should have asked so simple a question. + </p> + <p> + "I see. Well, Diggs, I can't tell you how sorry I am to have you go. You + have been here for eight years. You are the best butler I've ever known—and + the only one, I may as well add. I wish you the best of luck. Shake hands, + Diggs. It may interest you to know that I look upon you as the best friend + I've ever had. You are the only man I've known in the past ten years who + has really treated me as an equal. You've done this, Diggs, knowing full + well that by rights I am nothing more than a bookkeeper and never will be + more than that, no matter how many millions I may possess. You have made + it your business to live down to me, and so I am your debtor. Everybody + else, from Mr. Force to the telegraph operator over in the railroad + station, looks—but, why go into all this? You are going, and I wish + you the best of luck. The same to Watson, too, if you please!" + </p> + <p> + "I shall mention it to Watson, sir. He will be very much gratified." + </p> + <p> + "And I may be able to throw quite a little business in your way, Diggs. We + shall make it a point to buy our supplies from the firm of—is it to + be Diggs & Watson? + </p> + <p> + "No, sir. It is to be called the Covent Garden Consolidated Fruit Company, + sir. There is another little matter I'd like to speak about, Mr. Bingle." + Diggs was quite red in the face. "Ahem! I am also compelled to say that + Melissa has given notice, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Melissa! Impossible! Not MELISSA?" + </p> + <p> + "Melissa Taylor, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Why, she is the last one that I—" Words failed him. He looked quite + helpless in the face of this staggering blow. + </p> + <p> + "I 'ad a great deal of difficulty, sir, in persuading 'er to leave your + employment. She was most determined about it at first, sir." + </p> + <p> + "You—YOU, Diggs, persuaded her to leave? 'Pon my soul, that was + rather a shabby thing to—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I trust you won't look at it in the wrong way, sir," cried Diggs in + distress. "Melissa 'as merely consented to become my wife, sire. No + offence intended, I hassure you. No underhanded work on my—" + </p> + <p> + "God bless my soul!" cried Mr. Bingle. "Melissa is going to marry you?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. Next Thursday week, sir. And also, sir, I am obliged to + announce that Miss Stokes, the first nurse-maid, is to become Mrs. Watson + on the same day." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle sat down again. "My gracious!" + </p> + <p> + "She also gives notice, sir, through me. Did I thank you, sir, for your + generous offer to trade with us when we take over the business? I was that + rattled, sir, I fear I forgot to—" + </p> + <p> + "It is taken for granted, Diggs. And you—you all leave us on the + fourteenth of July?" + </p> + <p> + "If quite convenient, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "The anniversary of the fall of the Bastile," mused the distressed master + of the house. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I hassure you, sir, that really had nothing to do with it," said + Diggs. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I suppose I shall have to train a new lot to take your places." + </p> + <p> + "I would suggest that you advance Hughes to the place of butler. He is a + very competent man." + </p> + <p> + "We'll see. And now you may say to the other three members of the Covent + Garden Fruit Company that I accept their resignations with regret, and + wish all of them joy." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, sir. I shall speak to Watson and Miss Stokes, and I shall ask + Watson to carry your message to Miss Taylor." + </p> + <p> + "Can't you attend to that part of it yourself, Diggs?" + </p> + <p> + Diggs stiffened. "I regret to say, sir, that Miss Taylor and I 'ave had a—what + you might describe, sir, as a bit of a tiff. She hasn't permitted me to + speak to her since yesterday morning. It will be quite all right, however, + to 'ave Watson 'andle the matter. Thank you, sir." + </p> + <p> + The fifth of July, as usual, came close upon the heels of the one day in + the year that men with large families of growing children feel perfectly + justified in characterizing as All-Fools' Day. The Bingle youngsters, + regardless of their missing antecedents, celebrated the day as unqualified + American citizens. They set fire to the stables, shot Roman candles into + the kitchen, bounced torpedoes off of the statuary in the gardens, hurled + firecrackers great and small at one another, and came through the day with + one thumb missing, four faces powder-burnt, and one arm fractured in two + places. (Rutherford fell off of the balcony while being chased by an + escaped pin-wheel.) + </p> + <p> + "But," said Mr. Bingle, after relating the horrors of the day to Dr. + Fiddler on the morning of the fifth, "I am glad to say that we got through + with it alive. How did you find Mrs. Bingle? She was pretty well done-up + by the noise." + </p> + <p> + "She's all right, Bingle. Don't worry. Who is this coming up the drive in + such haste?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle peered intently over his glasses. + </p> + <p> + "That? Why, 'pon my soul, Fiddler, that is Mr. Sigsbee. My lawyer, you + know. Now, what in the world can be bringing him out here? By George, I—I + wonder!" He leaned against a porch pillar, assailed by a sudden weakness. + </p> + <p> + "You wonder—what?" + </p> + <p> + "I wonder if the Supreme Court sits on the day after the Fourth of July." + </p> + <p> + "The Court is late this year in arriving at the summer recess, that much I + can tell you. Are you expecting a decision in the case of Hooper et al. + vs. Bingle?" + </p> + <p> + "I am," said Mr. Bingle, mopping his brow, which was wet with a very + chilly moisture. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV — THE LAW'S LAST WORD + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Sigsbee remained for luncheon. He did not return to the city until + late in the afternoon. All day long an atmosphere of gloom, not altogether + attributable to reaction from the Fourth, pervaded the house. By that + strange, mysterious form of contagion described as "sensing," the servants + became infected by the depression; questioning looks were answered by + questioning looks; conversation was carried on in lowered tones and + confined almost exclusively to matters pertaining to the work in hand; + furtive looks were bestowed upon the door of Mr. Bingle's study and, later + on, directed with some misgiving upon the closed transom above Mrs. + Bingle's bedroom door. To the certain knowledge of the oldest servant on + the place, this transom had never been lowered before. + </p> + <p> + This much was known to three persons: the butler, one of the footmen and + Melissa: shortly after the strange gentleman entered Mr. Bingle's study + with the master, the mistress and Dr. Fiddler, Mrs. Bingle was led to her + room by the doctor and her husband, moaning and wringing her hands. The + trained nurse who had come down to take care of Rutherford was hastily + summoned to the bedroom, and later on Diggs was instructed to telephone to + Dr. Fiddler's office in town with an order to his assistant to send out a + second nurse without delay. + </p> + <p> + At dinner, Mr. Bingle was singularly pale and preoccupied. His doctor and + his lawyer talked of the attitude of the Administration at Washington in + regard to the Mexican question and other problems in which a keen observer + would have remarked that they were not at all interested—and in + which Diggs and Hughes certainly had no present interest. They ate quite + heartily, as doctors and lawyers are prone to do when the opportunity + presents itself. Immediately after dinner they repaired to the study and + closed the door. All evening there were telephone conversations with New + York and Washington, and frequent visits to Mrs. Bingle's room by the + doctor and Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + At ten o'clock Mr. Bingle walked out upon the moon-lit lawn and gazed + about him in all directions, taking in the terraces, the park, the + gardens, and last of all the splendid facade of the great house itself. + Head gardener Edgecomb approached and to him Mr. Bingle said: + </p> + <p> + "It was a beautiful place—a beautiful place, indeed," and then + straightway returned to the house. Edgecomb, slack grammarian though he + was, made note of the fact that he spoke of the house in the past tense, + quite as if it were a thing that had ceased to exist. + </p> + <p> + The children had had their supper when Melissa came down from Mrs. + Bingle's room, whither she had been summoned in some haste at five + o'clock. She promptly announced that they were to skip off to bed at once + as their mother's head was that bad that she was not to be disturbed by + the slightest sound. To the inquiries of her fellow-servants, Melissa + curtly replied that it was none of their business what had happened and if + they had any business they'd better attend to it instead of snooping + around the halls trying to find out something that did not in the least + concern them. + </p> + <p> + Melissa knew what had happened. Before eight o'clock that night Miss + Fairweather knew, and Flanders also. The great Bingle dream was not the + only one to be shattered by the news that the day brought forth. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in two days, Melissa addressed herself to Mr. Diggs. + Her lip trembled and there were tears lying close to the surface of her + eyes. She told the butler, in smothered tones, that she had decided to + remain in the employ of Mr. Bingle as long as he needed her services, and + that she would have to return his ring. She could not marry him—at + least not at present, nor for a long time perhaps. The children refused to + go to bed unless Melissa told them a story. She collected them in the + nursery—the lame, the halt and the half-blind—and very meekly + inquired what kind of a story they would have. + </p> + <p> + "The one about Peter Pan," said Henrietta. + </p> + <p> + "No! Tell us a new one about the piruts," cried Wilberforce. + </p> + <p> + "A ghost story, 'Lissie," chimed in Harold, aged five. "Scare me good and + hard, so's I can sleep with Freddy to-night." + </p> + <p> + "It's not the right kind of a night for a ghost story," said Melissa, her + eyes going over the group with a strange, sweet compassion in their + depths. "The wind ought to be howling with blood-curdling glee and the + will-o'-the-wisp ought to be a-hoppin' in the swamp. There ought to be a + graveyard close by—and some skeletons standing just outside the + winders, trying to look in upon us through their eyeless sockets." + </p> + <p> + "Let's imagine 'em," said Frederick. + </p> + <p> + "I want to huddle, 'Lissie," lisped Rosemary. "It's fun to huddle." + </p> + <p> + "You'll be discharged if you fill these kids up with any more of those + yarns of yours," said Stokes, the nurse-maid, languidly looking up from + the book she was reading. + </p> + <p> + "I guess not," said Melissa, rather grimly. "My job's safe, no matter what + I do or don't do. Go on with your reading, Miss Stokes. Your worries are + almost over. Mine are just beginning. Huddle up close, Rosemary—I'm + going to begin." + </p> + <p> + "I'm huddled," shivered Rosemary, crawling under Melissa's sheltering arm. + </p> + <p> + "Now, this is a true story," began Melissa wearily. The children had drawn + close about her. "It's an honest true one about a ghost that used to ha'nt + my great-grandfather. My great-grandfather owned a beautiful castle in + France not far from Nice." She pronounced it with the long sound of the + vowel, and was promptly corrected by Marie Louise. "I said it was my + great-grandfather, not my niece," said the storyteller sharply. "Well, + onct upon a time he was engaged in a war—the Communism war, I think + it was. In the heat of battle one day he cut off a great general's head, + just like that. Goodness, don't jump so, Rosemary! It rolled down a hill, + bumpety-bump, swearing all the way. You see, he was a very great general + and was allowed to swear all he pleased. He got his head cut off, so + there's a warning for you boys never to swear. Well, Grandpa got off of + his fiery steed and looked everywhere for the corpse's head. He had the + body all right, but what good was a body without a head? He couldn't find + it anywhere. The rest of the army came up and helped in the search, but + 'twasn't any use. That general's head had disappeared as if by magic. At + first it was thought they might trace it by the cuss-words it was + uttering, but you see by this time everybody was swearing, so it was like + looking for a needle in a haystack. They kept on hunting for nearly a + week, because Grandpa wanted to send that feller's head to his widow, so's + she could give it a decent burial and also get the insurance. He—" + </p> + <p> + "And so's she could get married again," broke in Frederick. + </p> + <p> + "Exactly. Well, after the war was over, Grandpa he went back to his castle + to rest up for the next war, and to have his sword sharpened and his + petard fixed. One dark night he was a-setting in his ante-room pondering + over the past and wondering what had become of that feller's head—and + also what had become of his widder, who was a most bewitching creature and + would make any man a most desirable wife, especially if he didn't have one + already—which Grandpa didn't. All of a sudden he heard a voice + speaking to him as if from a graveyard. It said 'Good evenin', Duke!' Did + I tell you my great-grandpa was a duke? Well, he was. 'Good evenin', + Duke,' said the voice, coming from nowhere in—" + </p> + <p> + "Did it say it twice?" demanded Reginald. + </p> + <p> + "Four or five times," said Melissa; "because Grandpa wasn't sure he heard + it the first time. He looked everywhere. Finally he saw it. It was perched + right there on his knee—a awful, horrid, bluggy head with its + moustache twisted up like Swanson's on Sunday. It—Oh, Lordy!" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle entered the nursery. The children stared at him as if at the + long-expected ghost, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. His sandy, greyish hair + which of late had been trained to lie quite sleek and precise across the + widening bald-spot, was now in a state of wild disorder. It stood out + "every which way," according to Melissa's subsequent description, and lent + to his appearance an aspect of fierceness that was almost inconceivable. + Somehow they were all surprised when this sinister figure spoke, for his + voice was kind and gentle, and not at all what one might have looked for + in a maniac. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well, here we are. Isn't it time you all were in bed? Off with you, + like good boys and girls. Daddy won't be able to come up to see that + you're tucked in to-night. I'll say good night to you now. Melissa, will + you and Stokes come down to the library as soon as you've got them to bed? + And please tell the other nurse-maids to come also. I don't happen to see + them about anywhere. I suppose it is a general night out. I have something + important to say to you all. Please be as spry as possible. I want to get + it over with." + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, Mr. Bingle received his servants in the library. It + was to be noted that his hair was smoothly brushed. With him in the room + was a young man who was recognised by a few of the servants as Mr. Epps, a + clerk from the lawyers' offices. From Diggs down to the boy whose sole + duty it was to feed the robins and squirrels in the park—all were + there, a curious and strangely depressed assemblage. + </p> + <p> + The master, in a quiet, unemotional voice at once stated the object of the + meeting. He had called them together for the purpose of giving them the + required two weeks' notice, and also to pay them in full their wages up to + the twentieth of the month. They were at liberty to go, however, as soon + as they liked, but he desired them to know that it would be with his best + wishes for their future. A letter of recommendation would be found + attached to each pay envelope. He regretted exceedingly that it was not in + his power to supplement this last payment by the addition of a + well-deserved present to each of his faithful servitors. Circumstances + over which he had no control made it impossible for him to give them more + than the stipulated amount. In concluding a brief, simple tribute to their + loyalty as servants and an expression of his sincere regret that they were + so soon to part company, Mr. Bingle said: + </p> + <p> + "You see before you, my friends, a man who is poorer than any one of you. + Yesterday I was a rich man, to-day I am as poor as Job's turkey. Poorer, + if anything, for Job's turkey at least possessed a home, such as it was. + To-morrow I shall receive official notification that Seawood and all that + goes with it, real and personal, is no longer mine. The law has said so, + and I must abide by the decision of the highest court in the land. + </p> + <p> + "The Supreme Court has finally handed down its decision in the case of + Hooper et al. vs. Bingle. I am not the rightful heir. Joseph H. Hooper was + not acting within his rights when he disposed of his privately acquired + fortune. His children were acting within their rights when they disowned + him, scorned him, kicked him out of their lives. It has been decided that + my uncle was not competent to dispose of his property, and that I, his + conniving nephew, influenced him by craft, wiliness, duplicity and so + forth to such an extent that he gave his money to me instead of to those + who should have received it. The Supreme Court declares that all of the + lower courts erred in not admitting testimony to prove that my uncle + DESIRED to leave his fortune to his children, even after he had made his + last will in my favour. + </p> + <p> + "It may interest you to know that 'The Christmas Carol' had a great deal + to do with the decision. The lower courts refused to hear evidence to the + effect that after making his will he wrote a letter to each of his + children, over his own signature, in which he stated that upon reading the + carol he was so impressed with the sermon it preached that he was more + than willing to let bygones be bygones and to give to his children all of + his fortune, in equal shares, expressing the hope, however, that they + would be governed by the same noble book in compensating his beloved + nephew, Thomas Bingle, and so on and so forth. If they would take him back + into their lives, he would forget and forgive. Of course, no attention was + paid to these letters at the time, because he was supposed to be + penniless. They only went to show that he was mentally unbalanced. In the + original trials, these letters were introduced. The Christmas Carol was + also offered as one of the exhibits, and it was allowed to stick. When the + story was read in open court, every one sniffled, even the judge. The jury + almost bellowed. 'As it was allowed to remain in the record, I've no doubt + the Supreme Bench wept a little over Tiny Tim. In its decision the Supreme + Court refers quite freely to the story and its effect on the old + gentleman. I shall not go into the history of the case. It would not be of + interest to you. It is only necessary for me to repeat that I shall be + penniless. Seawood must be turned over to the rightful owners. I don't + mind admitting that I have never really felt that it belonged to me. I + have always thought that Joseph Hooper's millions belonged to his + children, mean as they are. + </p> + <p> + "But that is neither here nor there. My lawyers would not consent to my + believing anything that they didn't want me to believe. I don't own a + dollar in the world, however, except the wages due to you, my faithful + servants. These wages are to be paid to you to-night by Mr. Epps, who has + cashed my last check against the Hooper fortune, in order that you may + receive your due. To-morrow my check, I fear, would not be honoured. If I + have done wrong in withdrawing money to-day for the purpose of paying you + for honest labour, I shall certainly never permit it to disturb my + conscience. As soon as Rutherford is able to be removed, I shall leave + Seawood forever. In conclusion, I may say that all I have left in the + world are ten small children. As usual, they turn out to be the poor man's + fortune. Mr. Epps, will you be good enough now to distribute the pay + envelopes? I shall say good night to all of you, and to you, Mr. Epps, as + well. To-morrow at any hour you may select it will give me pleasure to go + with you to see the little flat you have described as the most desirable + in your list of apartments. I was not aware, Mr. Epps, that you acted as a + renting agent in addition to your duties with Bradlee, Sigsbee & + Oppenheim." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir," said Mr. Epps. "I find it quite a profitable side issue, Mr. + Bingle. Clients of ours are constantly being reduced to the necessity of + seeking cheaper—ahem! I shall be pleased to show you the flat at any + hour YOU may select." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Epps." + </p> + <p> + Without going more deeply into details, the foregoing explains the + situation. Thomas Singleton Bingle was to be deprived of the Hooper + millions. His ten years of possession, years of peace and plenty, had come + to an abrupt termination. Poverty, even darker than he had suffered before + the windfall, loomed up ahead of him, for in the old days there had been + no children to feed and clothe. Added to this was the certainty that a + sick wife would take the place of that well, strong and encouraging Mary + of the past. Despite the claims and assurances of his lawyers, Mr. Bingle + always had felt that this day would come. He had never looked upon himself + as the rightful possessor of Joseph Hooper's fortune in its entirety. So, + when the time came, he was the least surprised by the shock, and would + have been the first to smile had it not been for the dreadful effect the + news had upon Mrs. Bingle. His wife collapsed. She sent for her mother and + sister and declared openly that from that day forth she would make her + home with them. And to add to Mr. Bingle's incalculable distress, Dr. + Fiddler very resolutely said that he thought it advisable for her to do + precisely what she wanted to do at this time. Later on, no doubt, she + would look upon the situation differently, and would return to him sound + in body, mind and affection. But for the present—well, said the + great Dr. Fiddler, she'd be much happier with her mother and sister, away + from Mr. Bingle and the children. He also advised Mr. Bingle in no + uncertain terms to get rid of the children as soon as possible without + seriously jeopardising their future welfare, "for," said he, "they will + never cease to be a barrier between you and your wife, now that the dream + is over and you are both awake to the cruel call of reality." The + situation became desperate for Mr. Bingle when his wife took her + extraordinary stand, and not before. He wilted like a faded flower in the + face of this blighting calamity. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the sixth of July, a pompous old gentleman rang the + front doorbell at Seawood, and inquired for Mr. Bingle. He turned out to + be the principal lawyer employed by Joseph Hooper's son and daughters in + their fight for the Grimwell millions—a Mr. Hoskins by name. He + might have been designated as General Hoskins, as a matter of fact, for he + was in actual command of a small army of lawyers, now victorious after a + long and bitter warfare. + </p> + <p> + "I am authorised by my clients, Mr. Bingle," said he, "to extend to you + the customary amenities in such cases, wherein a contest ends so + disastrously for one party or the other. We are not unmindful of the + teachings of 'The Christmas Carol.' Indeed, we have all read it with great + interest. Joseph Hooper's recommendations to his children in regard to you—" + </p> + <p> + "Just a moment, please," interrupted Mr. Bingle. "Say it straight out, Mr. + Hoskins. Have they commissioned you to make provision for my future out of + the funds they are about to acquire?" + </p> + <p> + "In a measure, yes," said Mr. Hoskins, prepared to sneer at Mr. Bingle's + gleeful acceptance of charity. "Of course, nothing can be done in the + matter until the opinion of the Court is—" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing at all can be done in the matter," said Mr. Bingle acidly. "I + shall not accept a penny from them, Mr. Hoskins. They wouldn't accept it + from me, and I'm damned if I'll accept it from them. 'The Christmas Carol' + hasn't anything to do with the case. All I ask is a little time in which + to straighten out the affairs of the estate, and not to be hurried in my + actions. I promise you that I shall be as expeditious as possible. In a + day or two my counsel and I will be able to get started on the work. It + will be quite simple so far as I am concerned. I have only to turn over to + you everything in the world except our wearing apparel—not all of + that, you may be sure—and my part of the transfer is completed. I + had nothing when Joseph Hooper's money came to me, so, you see, it will be + quite easy for me to step down and out. I have only to walk out of the + house with my wife and children, without a cent in my pockets, and the job + is done. Everything else belongs to Geoffrey and his sisters." Mr. Hoskins + was disconcerted. He had come prepared to be generous. "My dear sir, the + fortunes of war have militated against—" + </p> + <p> + "Better say the misfortunes of war," interrupted Mr. Bingle, with a + twinkle in his eye. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you wouldn't interrupt me every time I start to speak to you, Mr. + Bingle," said the lawyer. "I'm not accustomed to being—" + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon," again interrupted Mr. Bingle, and, because he said it + apologetically, Mr. Hoskins was not resentful. + </p> + <p> + "My clients are disposed to be fair and—I will not say charitable—generous + in their hour of triumph. Last evening they met and discussed the problems + confronting you, sir. They realise that you devoted a great deal of your + time and much of your slender means toward securing the comfort of their + lamented father—" + </p> + <p> + "And burying him," put in Mr. Bingle. "Don't forget that I buried him." + </p> + <p> + "—and they are prepared to settle a certain amount upon you for + life, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Well, that's nice of them," said Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "The amount will be decided upon at some subsequent meeting. In the + meantime, you are to accept from them the sum of one thousand dollars for + the purpose of providing yourself with—" + </p> + <p> + "I've just got to interrupt, Mr. Hoskins. I do it for your own sake. You + are wasting time and words. I shan't take a penny, as I said before. I + will not allow them to settle a certain amount upon me. That's flat, Mr. + Hoskins. I know how to be poor a blamed sight better than I know how to be + rich. It won't be a new thing to me. I'll get along, so don't you worry. I + have kept the books for this estate ever since I came into control of it, + just because I like to be busy at something I know how to do without + asking the advice of the butler or anybody else. The books and accounts + have been kept straight up to this very day. You can put your auditors and + expert accountants at work on them to-morrow, if you like, and you'll find + that they balance to a cent. So, you see, I've not allowed myself to get + rusty with prosperity." + </p> + <p> + "Most extraordinary," said Mr. Hoskins. + </p> + <p> + "When the time comes, I shall be able to turn over the estate a good deal + better than I found it. It has increased under my management. I could not + have begun to spend the income from the investments. Your clients will + find themselves in possession of an extra million or two apiece to + recompense them for their long wait. I do not expect or solicit thanks for + managing the estate while it was under my control. Please tell them so, + Mr. Hoskins." + </p> + <p> + "My clients are not disposed to exact a complete, minute accounting from + you, Mr. Bingle," said Mr. Hoskins, somewhat at a loss for means to meet + the unexpected. "Naturally we, as their attorneys, are expected to + ascertain the condition of the estate, and all that sort of thing. I am + quite sure that we will find it—er—in excellent order." + </p> + <p> + "Before I forget it, perhaps I'd better mention one or two expenditures + that I have made in the past twenty-four hours," said Mr. Bingle + thoughtfully. "I have taken it upon myself to pay all of my just debts + before the order of the Court takes effect. In other words, sir, I have + settled in full with my attorneys, my doctors and my servants. They are + paid up to the minute, Mr. Hoskins." + </p> + <p> + The lawyer stared. "Do you mean to say that you have paid out of the + estate the fees—undoubtedly exorbitant—of these lawyers for + the ten years' fiddling they have been—" + </p> + <p> + "My doctor's name is Fiddler, sir," interrupted Mr. Bingle, looking so + hard into Mr. Hoskins' eyes that once more the interruption passed + unresented. "I have paid them all in full, if that's what you are trying + to get at." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you know that such an act is distinctly illegal?" demanded Mr. + Hoskins. + </p> + <p> + "So my lawyers informed me." + </p> + <p> + "And yet they permitted you to hand over to them large sums of money in + the nature of fees without waiting for an order of the Court, knowing full + well that an opinion had been handed down? It is incomprehensible!" + </p> + <p> + "It shouldn't be incomprehensible to you, Judge Hoskins," said Mr. Bingle + gently. "You are a lawyer yourself." + </p> + <p> + "Am I to infer that you—What do you mean, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "I leave that entirely to you, sir." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hoskins coughed, although there was nothing to indicate that it was + necessary. + </p> + <p> + "It is possible, sir, for my clients to bring suit against you for a full + accounting of all monies that you have expended or misused in—" + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't say that, if I were you, Judge Hoskins." + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon, Mr. Bingle. For all monies that belong or have + belonged to the estate of their father. I say it is possible for them to + do so—but not likely. You should not forget that this estate + virtually has been held in trust by you for all these years, pending the + final decision—a point agreed upon by my clients and yourself in the + desire to increase the value of—" + </p> + <p> + "If they feel inclined to bring such a suit, Mr. Hoskins, I shall not + combat it," said Mr. Bingle drily. "They may take judgment by default. + They are used to waiting by this time, so it won't be anything new for + them to wait a million years for what they'd get if they sued me. By + carefully hoarding a couple of dollars a year for a million years, I fancy + I could in the end be able to take care of the judgment. But it hardly + seems worth while, does it? It is barely possible that your clients might + die before that time is up, even though I should survive." + </p> + <p> + "I fear that you do not realise that this is no joking matter, Mr. + Bingle," said Mr. Hoskins stiffly. He was not quite so pompous as when he + entered the house. + </p> + <p> + "I fear that you did not realise it either, Mr. Hoskins, when you spoke of + suing me." + </p> + <p> + "Ahem! And now, sir, when may we arrange for a conference over the + transfer of all properties now in your hands, or under your control, as + coming from the estate of the late Joseph Hooper?" + </p> + <p> + "You may call up my attorneys by telephone this afternoon, sir, and + arrange anything you like. They are still in my employ, according to our + agreement of yesterday. I've paid them to see that I have nothing left + when they get through with me, so there's nothing to worry about. Confer + with them, Mr. Hoskins, and when you are ready I'll come down and do + whatever is necessary in the premises. In the meantime, convey my thanks + to my cousins and say that when they refused to accept a portion of the + estate from me ten years ago they made it impossible for me to accept + anything from them now. What they were too proud to accept, I also am too + proud to take. Thank you for coming out to see me, Mr. Hoskins. I know you + are a very busy man, and I know it must seem like a prodigious waste of + time to be interesting yourself in the affairs of a poor bookkeeper + without a cent to his name. For that is what I am, Mr. Hoskins: a poor + bookkeeper without a cent to his name but still a believer in 'The + Christmas Carol.'" + </p> + <p> + "But that book actually was the cause of your undoing, sir. It—" + </p> + <p> + "It doesn't matter," said Mr. Bingle wearily. "It is a good book, just the + same. If you will excuse me now, I must go to the city. I have an + appointment right after luncheon with a man who is going to show me a + flat." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hoskins surprised himself at this juncture—undeniably surprised + himself. "If you are going to the city at once, Mr. Bingle, perhaps you + will permit me to take you up in my car." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's smile was quizzical. "You HAVE got something out of 'The + Christmas Carol' then," he said, and Mr. Hoskins eventually had the grace + to redden perceptibly. He was slow in grasping the connection, however. + </p> + <p> + The impoverished millionaire had a busy afternoon, and some annoying + mishaps—if they may be classified as such. In the first place, he + went to the bank and delivered his resignation as vice-president and + director. He handed it to Mr. Force and at the same moment applied for his + old job as bookkeeper. Mr. Force complimented him on his promptness in + both emergencies. It appears that the newspapers had printed columns about + the Bingle affair. Mr. Force was in possession of all the facts. He had + been interviewed by all of the reporters who had failed to see Mr. Bingle + and who had to be content with a statement prepared and delivered by + Flanders. + </p> + <p> + "Your resignation comes just in time, Bingle," he said. "We have a meeting + of the board to-morrow. And as for the position, I'm happy to say you can + have it almost immediately. Ramsey is leaving. I thought of you this + morning when my secretary mentioned the fact. And, by the way, I don't + mind saying that we hope to have the Hooper heirs continue their holdings + in the bank. The account, as you know, is a large one and we don't want to + lose it. Besides, Geoffrey Hooper is the sort of a chap who will help the + bank tremendously if we put him on the board. He stands very high socially + and is hand in glove with the richest people in town. I am to see him at + three o'clock. By Jove, it's nearly three. Excuse me, Bingle, if I appear + to hurry you off, but—" + </p> + <p> + "I just wanted to ask how Kathleen is, Mr. Force," said Mr. Bingle, who + had not been asked to sit down. + </p> + <p> + "She's all right," said Mr. Force. "Good-bye, Bingle. Tell Bashford I said + you were to have Ramsey's place. And, by the way, if I can ever be of any + service to you, Bingle, I wish you'd call on me." + </p> + <p> + "Thanks. The job will be enough, I hope, Mr. Force." + </p> + <p> + Force suddenly lowered his eyes. "I'd ask you to come and see Kathleen, + Bingle, but—but we're trying to break the child of her homesickness, + of her longing to see you. Time, of course, will do it. You will + understand, of course, that it is better for her—and for all of us—if + she doesn't see you." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's face shone. "She—she still loves me, then?" he cried + softly. + </p> + <p> + Force compressed his lips, and then admitted: "Yes, Bingle, old fellow, + she DOES love you. And, hang it all, why shouldn't she? I—I want her + to love me and not you. I can't look at you without envy in my soul—eating + my soul, do you understand?—and I could almost hate you for the + start you got of me in those long years with her. Oh, don't laugh at me, + Bingle. Don't stand there grinning like a hyena. I suppose it will please + you to hear that the poor child cries nearly every night of her life + because she—she misses you. I—" + </p> + <p> + "You can bet it DOES please me," shouted Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Wait, Bingle! Don't go. What am I to do? How am I going to put sunshine + back into that little girl's face? Lord, man, I—I can't stand it + much longer." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle pondered. Then he laid his hat upon the table and took a + notebook and pencil from his pocket. While he scribbled, Force looked on + in perplexity. + </p> + <p> + "There!" said Mr. Bingle, tearing out the sheet and handing it to the + president of the bank. "You may read it, Mr. Force. Give it to her, and + see if she doesn't brighten up a bit." + </p> + <p> + Force read the note. He read it aloud, as if that was the only way to get + the full meaning of it. + </p> + <p> + "'Dear Kathleen: Your old daddy loves you. You must always love him, and + you must make your new daddy fetch you to see him some day. Come and see + Freddie and all the other kiddies. They will be so delighted to see you, + for they all love you. And if your new daddy will fetch you to see your + old daddy once in a while, I am sure you will come to love your new daddy + as much, if not more than you love your old + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "DADDY BINGLE.'" +</pre> + <p> + "Give that to her, Force, and maybe she'll put her arms around your neck + and kiss you," said Mr. Bingle, and went swiftly out of the room, leaving + Force staring at the bit of paper as if fascinated. + </p> + <p> + As he hurried from the bank, he met Rouquin, the foreign exchange manager, + who evidently had been lying in wait for him. + </p> + <p> + "How do you do, Rouquin?" said he, stopping to proffer his hand to the + Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + "See here, Mr. Bingle," began Rouquin, in an agitated undertone; "I want a + word or two with you about Napoleon. What is to become of that child, now + that you are down and out? Will he be sent to some accursed charity home + or—" + </p> + <p> + "Possess your soul in peace, Rouquin," said Mr. Bingle, drawing back to + look more intently into the unfriendly eyes of the once amiable Rouquin. + "Napoleon shall have the best I can give him, no more. He is as well with + me as he could ever have been with his good-for-nothing father, and if I + choose to get rid of him later on to the best advantage I won't be doing + anything more despicable than his father and mother did before me. Please + bear that in mind." + </p> + <p> + "I shall see to it that he is taken away from you before he is a week + older," cried Rouquin angrily. "You cannot expect me to leave that + helpless child—" + </p> + <p> + "What have you got to do with it, Rouquin?" demanded Mr. Bingle sharply. + </p> + <p> + "I am his mother's friend. I promised her that he should have a fine home. + I swore to her that he should never know want or hardship or—" + </p> + <p> + "There is only one way for you to take Napoleon away from me," said Mr. + Bingle, as Rouquin floundered for words to express himself. "And that is + to come up like a man and say that you are his father. Whenever you can do + that and whenever you can show me that you and his mother are married to + each other, I'll give him up to you, but not before, you scum of the + earth!" + </p> + <p> + Rouquin went very red in the face and then very pale, and his thin lips + set themselves in a ghastly smile. + </p> + <p> + "Good day, Rouquin," said Mr. Bingle, and went out of the bank. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Epps was annoyed because his customer kept him waiting for nearly + half-an-hour. He was exceedingly crabbed and disagreeable as they set out + to look at the flat which was to be the Bingle home, provided the rent was + paid regularly and promptly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV — DECEMBER + </h2> + <p> + The proverbial church-mouse was no worse off than Mr. Bingle at the end of + the fifth month of his reduction. Indeed, it is more than probable that + the church-mouse would be conceded a distinct advantage in many + particulars. A very small nest will accommodate a very large family of + growing mice; the tighter they are packed in the nest the better off they + are in zero weather. Moreover, in a pinch, the parental church-mouse may + stave off famine by resorting to a cannibalistic plan of economy, thereby + saving its young the trouble of growing up to become proverbial + church-mice. It may devour its young when it becomes painfully hungry, and + not be held accountable to the law. With commendable frugality, the + church-mouse first eats off the tail of its offspring. Then, if luck + continues to be bad, the remainder may be despatched with due and honest + respect for the laws of nature. + </p> + <p> + Now, with Mr. Bingle, it was quite out of the question for him to devour + even so small a morsel as Napoleon without getting into serious trouble + with the law, and it was equally impossible to obtain the same degree of + comfort for his young by packing them into a four room flat. And then the + church-mouse doesn't have to think about shoes and stockings and mittens + and ear-muffs, to say nothing of frocks and knickerbockers. So he who + speaks of another as being "as poor as a church-mouse" does a grave + injustice to a really prosperous creature, despite the fact that it lives + in a church and is employed in the rather dubious occupation of supporting + a figure of speech. Look carefully into the present law of economics, if + you please, and then grant the church-mouse the benefit of the doubt. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's flat could be found by traversing a very mean street in the + lower east side not far removed from the Third Avenue Elevated tracks. + Discovery required the mounting of four flights of stairs by foot, and two + turns to the right in following the course of the narrow, dark hallway + which led in a round-about sort of way to a fire escape that invited a + quicker and less painful death than destruction by flames in case one had + to choose between the two means of perishing. + </p> + <p> + Four rooms and a kitchen was all that Mr. Bingle's flat amounted to. The + four rooms contained beds; in the kitchen there was a collapsible cot. In + one of the rooms (ordinarily it would have been the parlour), there was a + somewhat futile sheet-iron stove in which soft coal or wood could be used + provided the wind was in the right direction. This was, in fact, the + parlour. The bed, by day, assumed the dignity of a broad but saggy lounge, + exceedingly comfortable if one was careful to sit far enough forward to + avoid slipping into its cavernous depths from which there was no escape + without assistance. Besides being the parlour, it was also the library, + the study-room, the dining-room and reception hall. By night, it was the + bed-chamber of Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + At the beginning of the cold snap that arrived quite early in December, it + also became the sleeping place of Rutherford, Rosemary and Harold, the + tiniest of the children, who piled in with the uncomplaining occupant and + kept him awake three-fourths of the night trying to determine whose legs + were uncovered and whose were not. With six exceedingly active little legs + wriggling in as many different directions in pitch darkness, it was no + easy matter, you may be sure, to decide whether any two belonged to the + same individual, and when it came to pass that three of them were exposed + at the same time the puzzle was indeed a difficult one. + </p> + <p> + Napoleon's crib also made its way into the parlour when the cold weather + came; and while Napoleon's legs stayed under cover pretty well his voice, + like Chanticleer's, arose before the sun. Frederick, Wilberforce and + Reginald slept in one room, Marie Louise, Henrietta and Guinevere in + another. In pleasant weather, Rosemary joined her sisters, while Harold + and Rutherford fell in with the other boys. There never was a time, + however, when Mr. Bingle did not have a bed-fellow in the shape of one or + the other of the two small boys. + </p> + <p> + The fourth room was occupied by the maid-of-all-work, and as it was + primarily intended to be the servant's bedroom it is not necessary to + state that there was space for but one full grown person inside its four + walls. The collapsible cot in the kitchen represented the foundation of an + emergency guest chamber. Up to the present it had not been called into + use, but it was always there in readiness for the expected and unexpected. + </p> + <p> + It will be observed that no account is taken of Mrs. Bingle. The + explanation is quite simple. She went to live with her mother and sister + at Peekskill on the advice of Dr. Fiddler almost immediately after the + Supreme Court's opinion was handed down. Later on, she came down to the + city with her mother, who now received a small but sufficient income + through the death and will of a fairly well-to-do bachelor brother. The + old lady took a house in the Bronx and once a week Mr. Bingle journeyed + northward by subway and surface lines to visit his wife. A smart little + doctor from Dr. Fiddler's staff made occasional visits to the Bronx and + looked the part of a wiseacre when Mr. Bingle appealed to him for + encouragement. He smiled knowingly and refused to commit himself beyond a + more or less reassuring squint, a pursing of the lips, and the usual + statement that if nothing happened she would be as fit as ever in the + course of time. + </p> + <p> + The cot in the kitchen was for Mr. Bingle in case Mrs. Bingle decided to + come back to him in health as well as in person. He consoled himself with + the daily hope that she would come dashing in upon him, as well as ever + and in perfect sympathy with his decision to protect the helpless children + they had gathered about them in their years of affluence. + </p> + <p> + He had stood out resolutely against all contention that the children + should be cast upon the world once more. Harsh words were used at times by + interested friends in their efforts to bring him to his senses. They urged + him to let them find homes or asylums for the rapacious youngsters; they + described them as so many Sindbads; they spoke of them as millstones about + the neck of a man who could never get his head above water unless he cut + loose from them; they argued long and insistently about his mistaken ideas + of justice, responsibility, affection. He came back at them always with + the patient declaration that he would stand by the bargain made by himself + and his wife so long as God saw fit to give him the strength to earn a + living for their charges. + </p> + <p> + "Why, confound you, Bingle," said Mr. Force to him one day at the bank, + "one would think that you still regard yourself as a millionaire, the way + you hang onto those kids. Cut them adrift, old fellow. Or if you won't do + that, at least let some of us help you in a pecuniary way. Don't be so + infernally proud and self-satisfied. It wouldn't be charity. It would be + justice. Now, see here, I've argued this thing with you for three months + or more and I'm getting tired of your everlasting serenity. I know you are + hard put to find enough money to clothe and feed these kids, besides + buying what your wife may need. You are beginning to look shabby and you + certainly are thinner and greyer. What you ought to do, Bingle, is to turn + those kids over to a Home of some sort and settle down to a normal way of + living. Winter is coming on. You will have a devil of a time providing for + ten small children and a sick wife on the salary you are getting here. + Now, for heaven's sake, old fellow, take my advice. Get rid of 'em. You + owe it to your wife, Bingle. She ought—" + </p> + <p> + "I owe it to my wife to take care of them alone, now that she is unable to + do her part," said Mr. Bingle simply. "We took them as partners, so to + speak. She is unable to manage her share of the liability. Well, I'll do + her part for her, Mr. Force, so long as I'm able. The time may come when I + shall have to appeal for help, or give up the struggle altogether, but it + isn't here yet. I can manage for a while, thank you. Besides," and his + face brightened, "we may have a very mild winter, and the new tariff is + just as likely as not to reduce the cost of living, no matter what you + croakers say to the contrary. I've talked it over with Mrs. Bingle. She + says she can't come home until she is very much better, and I'll admit + that the children would be a dreadful strain upon her nerves at present. + But she says I'm to do just as I think best in regard to them. She thinks + I'm foolish—in fact, she says so—but I think I understand her + better than any one else. Down in her heart she knows I'm doing the right + thing. We'll wait, like old Micawber, for something to turn up. If it + doesn't turn up in a reasonable length of time, then I'll consider what is + best to do with the children." + </p> + <p> + "Are you considering your own health, Bingle?" demanded Force bluntly. + </p> + <p> + "No," said Mr. Bingle simply. "I've lived a decent, sensible life, so + what's the use worrying over something that can't be helped?" His smile + was cheerful, the twinkle in his eyes was as bright as though it had never + known a dim moment. + </p> + <p> + "You should accept the standing offer of the Hooper heirs," said Force. + "They are disposed to be fair and square, Bingle. Three thousand a year + isn't to be sneezed at." + </p> + <p> + "The Hooper heirs are sneezing at it, so why shouldn't I?" said Mr. Bingle + cheerily. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you'll read that ridiculous Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve," + said Force sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," said Mr. Bingle. "That reminds me; I wish you'd let Kathleen + come down to see us on Christmas Eve. I think she'd enjoy the reading." + </p> + <p> + "I'll do it, Bingle," said Force after a moment. "Since she has been + allowed to go down to see you and those kids of yours, her whole view of + life has changed. You were right, old fellow. I believe she likes me + better as time goes on. At any rate, she is quite gay and happy, and she + doesn't look at me with scared eyes any longer. She kissed me as if she + really meant it the other day when I told her she could have Freddy up to + tea. I'd like to suggest, however, that you see to it that the flat is + thoroughly aired and all the germs blown out before she comes down again + to—" + </p> + <p> + "You needn't worry, Mr. Force," said Bingle without a sign of resentment + in his manner. "We can't help airing the flat. Our greatest problem is to + keep from airing it. There isn't a minute of the day that it isn't being + aired." + </p> + <p> + Besides Mr. Force, who was a friend by circumstance and not from choice, + Bingle possessed two loyal and devoted friends in Diggs and Watson, + proprietors of the Covent Garden Consolidated Fruit Company of Columbus + Avenue, Manhattan. They would have supplied him with vegetables and cured + meats without charge if the thing could have been accomplished without his + knowledge. They came often to see him, Watson bringing his wife, the + former Miss Stokes, and many a night was made cheerful for the little man + by these good sprites from another world. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diggs resignedly awaited the day when Mr. Bingle's maid-of-all-work + could see her way clear to become Mrs. Diggs, and the equal of Mrs. + Watson, if not her superior by virtue of the position of her husband's + name on the firm's business cards. But if Diggs was devotedly loyal to + Melissa, Melissa was equally loyal to Mr. Bingle. Fifteen years of + kindness had not been wasted on this extraordinary servant. She was as + true as she was unique in this age of abominations. + </p> + <p> + The older children went to a public school not far away, and Melissa + looked after the young ones through the long, slow days, relieved only + from her self-imposed duties when Mr. Bingle came home from the bank. + Neither Melissa nor Mr. Bingle had had a full day off in all these months, + and neither complained. When Sunday came, he always urged her to spend it + with friends, leaving him to attend to the midday meal and dinner, but she + firmly, even arrogantly, refused to permit any one to meddle with her + kitchen. She forced him to go to the Bronx every Sunday afternoon, whether + he would or no, and demanded a staggering decrease in wages. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Mr. Bingle," she said, "you can't expect me to work for the same pay + I was getting out at Seawood. Don't be silly, sir; wasn't I getting more + out there than the butler got? And didn't I save nearly every cent of it + for eight years and more? I was getting twenty-five dollars a week out + there, wasn't I? And Mr. Diggs was getting only a hundred dollars a month, + wasn't he? Well, how much could you afford to pay a butler now if you had + one, sir? Two dollars a week at the outside, find himself. Well, I still + feel I'm worth more to you than any butler you could get, so I'll have to + insist on three dollars a week when convenient. I put away about eight + thousand dollars while I was working for you at Seawood. It's in the + savings banks now, every nickel of it, drawing three and a half and four + per cent., or about twenty-five dollars a month, sir. Twelve and + twenty-five makes thirty-seven a month, don't it? That's more than most + girls are getting, and it's certainly more than any of 'em is worth, + judging from what I've seen. So if you'll just consider that I'm getting + thirty-seven a month out of you, Mr. Bingle, we won't argue any longer." + </p> + <p> + "But, my dear Melissa, we must consider poor Diggs. It isn't fair to keep + him waiting. I fear I shall have to discharge you. It seems to be the only + way to make you and Diggs happy. I shall discharge you without a + recommendation, too. We can't have Diggs dying of old age while we are + discussing what is to become of him. It is your duty to marry Diggs at + once. You must remember that I do not want you in my employ. You must not + forget that I told you so six months ago and that I even tried to lock you + out. Now, you certainly do not care to work for a man who despises you, + who doesn't want you around, who is doing his level best to get rid of + you, who—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, shucks, Mr. Bingle!" cried Melissa, with her comely grin. "Sit down + and have your breakfast now. Don't worry about Mr. Diggs. He is having the + time of his life courting me. At least, he acts as if he is. It won't hurt + him to be engaged for a couple of years." + </p> + <p> + "But see how happy Watson is." + </p> + <p> + "I see all right," she said shrewdly; "and it won't hurt Mr. Diggs to see + how happy he is, either." + </p> + <p> + "You are the most selfish girl I've ever known, Melissa," said he + quaintly. "You won't let anybody else have a thing to say about it, will + you?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir," said Melissa. "I'm a perfect brute." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Epps was a regular visitor. He came once a month and never later than + the first. The rent was twenty-two dollars a month. Mr. Epps was always + expecting that it wouldn't be paid. He never failed to make a point of + telling Mr. Bingle that he was what you might call a soft-hearted lummix + and for that reason it always went hard with him to evict a tenant for not + paying his rent on the minute. He talked a great deal about the people he + had chucked out into the street and how unhappy the life of a renting + agent could be at times. Once he gave Mr. Bingle a cigar. + </p> + <p> + "Sure I'm not robbing you?" said Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "No," said Mr. Epps. "I don't smoke." + </p> + <p> + There was one Broadway theatre in which it was impossible to obtain seats + unless they were applied for weeks in advance. The leading lady in the + company playing there was not so important a personage that she could deny + herself the pleasant sensation of being a real woman, and the author of + the play was not so high and mighty that one had to use a ten-foot pole in + touching him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Richard Sheridan Flanders paid frequent visits to the home of + Mr. Bingle. The beautiful and popular Miss Colgate, the sensation of the + early season and a certain candidate for stellar honours, never came to + see the young Bingles without betraying a spirit of generosity which + sometimes caused Mr. Bingle to sit up half the night treating + stomach-aches of all ages and degrees. She brought candy and cakes and + fruit for the children, and flowers for Mr. Bingle. She would have come + laden with more substantial and less pernicious presents but for the + gentle objections of her old friend and benefactor. In the face of his + kindly protests, she abandoned certain well-meant, even cherished ideas, + and was often sore at heart. + </p> + <p> + Dick Flanders had found a producer after all. His hopes, considerably + dashed by the Supreme Court of the United States of America, were at a low + ebb when a practically unknown manager from the Far West concluded that + there was more to his play than the wise men of the East were able to + discern at a glance. With more sense than intelligence, the Westerner + leaped into the heart of New York with a new play by a new author and + scored a success from the opening night. Amy Colgate, an unknown actress, + became famous in a night, so to speak. After the holidays, there would be + a company playing the piece in Chicago, and another doing the "big stands" + throughout the length and breadth of the land. So much for Mr. Flanders' + play and Miss Amy Colgate. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle never ceased congratulating himself and his two successful + friends on the fact that he had not invested a cent of the Hooper fortune + in the production. For, said he, if he had put a penny into it, the Hooper + heirs would now be dividing the profits with Flanders. + </p> + <p> + "Luck was with us for once, Dick," he was prone to repeat. "A week later + and we would have been desperately involved. I would have put up the + initial ten thousand dollars for the production and you would have been + saddled with Geoffrey and his sisters, perhaps for life—and I can't + imagine anything more unnecessary than that. Yes, sir, the smash came just + in the nick o' time. What at first appeared to you to be a calamity turned + out to be a God-send, my boy. The Supreme Court behaved handsomely by + you." + </p> + <p> + This always brought out a vigorous protest from Mr. and Mrs. Flanders. + They stoutly maintained that Mr. Bingle was an original partner in the + enterprise, and, when it came right down to tacks, had put quite as much + capital into the business as either of them. They contended that he should + have a share in the royalties, if not in the profits. + </p> + <p> + "As a matter of fact, Mr. Bingle, you made so many valuable suggestions in + respect to the play—dialogues, construction and so forth—that + you really ought to take some of the consequences," said Flanders. "It + isn't fair to put all the blame upon me. For instance, who was responsible + for cutting out that scene in the second act?" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Bingle," said the other promptly. "She thought it was too + suggestive." + </p> + <p> + "Well, it certainly was you, sir, who advised me to make more of the scene + between Deborah and the old gentleman in the last act. As you know, it is + now the great scene in the play. You will not pretend to deny—" + </p> + <p> + "Advice is one thing, Dick, and following it is quite another. No, you + can't make me believe that I did anything toward writing that play. A man + who didn't know the difference between a cue line and a back drop can't + very well be indicted for complicity. To tell you the truth, Mrs. + Flanders, I don't know to this day what those initials, 'L. U. E.' stand + for, and a lot of other initials as well. Pride kept me from inquiring. I + didn't want to expose my ignorance about a thing that you and Dick talked + about so glibly. What does 'L. U. E.' mean?" + </p> + <p> + "'Left Upper Entrance,' Mr. Bingle," said she with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'm glad the mystery is revealed at last. I've laid awake nights + trying to conjure up words to fit those letters. 'R. U. E.' means 'right,' + I suppose. Dear me, how simple it seems, after all." + </p> + <p> + "Now, see here, Mr. Bingle," Flanders would say, "you went into + partnership with me last winter, that's the long and short of it. It + wasn't your fault that you couldn't put up the money according to our + agreement, but I want to say to you that if it hadn't been for your + encouragement and advice I never would have finished the play and I + certainly could not have scraped up the courage to get married when I did. + Amy and I have always looked upon you as a partner in our success. Now, + I'll tell you precisely what we've decided upon as a fair division of the + royalties that I am receiving. You are to take the author's royalty from + the number three company—the one that is to play the 'road' for this + season and next. It is to be a three cornered arrangement. Amy helped to + develop the play, so she is to have the royalty from the Chicago company, + while I shall receive all that comes out of the New York run. This + arrangement will hold good for two seasons. After that, we'll make a new + arrangement, taking in the stock rights, moving pictures and—" + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Bingle would listen to no more. Always when Flanders got just so + far in his well-meant, earnest propositions, the object of his concern + would stop him in such a gentle, dignified manner that the young + playwright would flush with the consciousness that he had given offence to + an honest soul. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle defeated every enterprise on the part of his few friends that + had the appearance of charity. He accepted their good intentions, he + delighted in their thoughtfulness and esteem, but he never permitted them + to go beyond a certain well-defined line. The argument that he had been + generous, even philanthropic, in his days of prosperity was invariably met + by the quaint contention that while the Good Book teaches charity, the + dictionary makes a point of defining it, and "you can't spell charity, my + friend, with the letters that are allotted to generosity. So don't quote + the Bible to me." + </p> + <p> + He put a stop to the cunning schemes of Diggs and Watson, who, with + Melissa's connivance, began a regular and systematic attempt to smuggle + bacon, eggs, butter and potatoes into the kitchen. This project of theirs + at first comprehended vegetables of every description and fruits as well, + but the sagacious house-maid vetoed anything so wholesale as all that. She + agreed that the accidental delivery of a side of bacon, or a mistake in + the counting of a dozen eggs, or the overweighing and undercharging of a + pound of butter, or the perfectly natural error of sending a peck and a + half of potatoes when only a peck was ordered, might escape the keen + observation of Mr. Bingle, but that anything more noticeable would cause + the good gentleman to take his trade elsewhere. As she said to the + distressed Diggs one evening, after carefully observing that the kitchen + door was closed: "When I order a half ton of coal from you for the parlour + stove, there's no sense in you weighing it out by ounces. Guess at it, and + then after you've guessed as near right as you know how, double the + amount. Mr. Bingle isn't going to weigh the coal, you know. And when it + comes to rice and hominy and cooking apples and all such things, just let + your imagination do the measuring. If a pound of coffee happens to look + like a pound and a half to you, don't forget the extra cups you used to + have every afternoon at Seawood. And if I should happen to send for the + cheapest tea you've got in stock, don't overlook the fact that there is an + expensive kind. Once in a while you might make ME a present of a couple of + dozen oranges, some bananas and nuts, and you might sometimes ask Mr. + Bingle to sample a new brand of smoking tobacco you're thinking of + carrying." + </p> + <p> + "But we sha'n't carry tobaccos," said Mr. Diggs, who aside from being a + good soul was also British. + </p> + <p> + "All the more reason why you should be THINKING of carrying 'em, isn't it, + you stupid?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle saw the opening performance of the Flanders play and went + behind the scenes afterward. He did this, he explained, so that he could + describe his sensations to Mrs. Bingle. He was introduced to all of the + players and they were so uniformly polite that he fell into a fine fury + the next morning on reading the newspaper review in which they were + described as "unintentionally adequate." + </p> + <p> + He knew as well as every one else that it would be impossible for him to + keep the children on the salary he was receiving at the bank. He knew that + the day was not far off when he would have to give them up. His fellow + bookkeepers harangued him from morning till night. They made themselves + obnoxious with their everlasting talk about being unable to support + families one-fourth the size of his; and one or two slyly inquired whether + he hadn't "salted away" a part of the Hooper money for a perpetual spell + of rainy weather. In justice to the children themselves it would be + necessary for him, before long, to set about finding suitable, respectable + homes for them. It was this unhappy sense of realisation that put the new + furrows in his brow and took the colour out of his cheek, the lustre from + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + One day he was approached by Rouquin, volatile and cheery as in the days + of old. The sprightly Frenchman was beaming with friendliness and good + spirits. He conveyed a startling bit of personal news to Mr. Bingle + without the slighest trace of shame or embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mr. Bingle, I have married her," he said shrugging his shoulders in + a manner that might have signified either extreme satisfaction with + himself or lamentation over the inevitable. "The day before yesterday. I + am now a proud and happy father, old friend." + </p> + <p> + "Father?" murmured Mr. Bingle, bewildered. "You—mean bridegroom, + Rouquin." + </p> + <p> + "So I do," cried Rouquin amiably. "But you forget Napoleon—little + Napoleon," he went on gaily. + </p> + <p> + "You have married Napoleon's mother?" + </p> + <p> + "Le diable! But who else, M'sieur? The charming, adorable Mademoiselle + Vallemont. Ah, my good friend, I am so happy. I am—" + </p> + <p> + "Vallemont? But Madame Rousseau—you seem to forget that she is the + mother of Napoleon. You—" + </p> + <p> + "Nevertheless," said Rouquin, with a gay sweep of his hand before laying + it tenderly upon his heart, "I have married the mother of Napoleon. Alas, + my good friend, Madame Rousseau is no more. She died when she was but one + day old. And her excellent husband, the splendid Jean, he also is a thing + of the past. Now there is no one left but Madame Rouquin and me and that + adorable Napoleon. Vive l'Emperor! Come, M'sieur, congratulate me. See! + This cablegram provides Napoleon with a father. But for what this little + bit of paper says, the poor enfant might have gone fatherless to his + grave. See! It says here that my wife has died. Read for yourself, + M'sieur. It is in French, but what matter? I shall translate. 'Raoul + Rouquin: Blanche died to-day. Good luck.' See, it is signed 'Pierre.' + Pierre he is my brother. He lives in Paris. Ah, so long have I waited! You + may never know my despair—never, M'sieur. But my wife she has died, + so all is well. The day before yesterday I was married. I take—" + </p> + <p> + "For heaven's sake, Rouquin," gasped Mr. Bingle; "not so fast! I don't + know what you are talking about." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, it is so simple," sighed Rouquin, looking upon Mr. Bingle with pity + in his eyes. "Can you not see? So long as my wife was alive I could not be + married. Is that not plain to you? Then she dies. Quick! Instantly I am + married. Voila! It is so simple." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle comprehended at last. "I see. You have had a wife in Paris all + these years, eh?" + </p> + <p> + "Mon Dieu! Yes, all these years," groaned Rouquin, rolling his eyes. "See! + See what my brother Pierre says: 'Blanche died to-day. Good luck.' Good + luck! Mon Dieu, M'sieur, is it possible that you do not know what 'good + luck' means?" + </p> + <p> + "And you have married Madame Rous—or whatever her name is?" + </p> + <p> + "So quick as that!" cried Rouquin, snapping his fingers. "And now, + M'sieur, when may I come to take little Napoleon home to his mother?" + </p> + <p> + Thus it came about that Napoleon was the first to go. Amid great pomp and + ceremony, he departed from the home of the many Bingles on a bright, clear + day in December, shortly after banking hours, attended by his own mother + and father. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI — ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE + </h2> + <p> + Christmas was drawing near. The Bingle children, accustomed to manifold + and expensive presents, were in a state of doubt and hope combined. The + older ones realised that while Santa would not pass them by without a + sign, there was every reason to believe that he would not deliver the + things for which they slyly petitioned, the things they most desired. They + had been brought up to receive all that they expected and the prospect + ahead for them was not reassuring from the viewpoint their intelligence + forced them to take. There were secret lamentations and not a few surly + discussions in the absence of Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + Melissa took the older boys to task for some of the things they said about + their foster father. Frederick was the chief offender. He knew that Mr. + Bingle's pocket-book was the real Santa Claus, and he wanted a pair of + skates and a hockey outfit. Something told him that he would be compelled + to accept in lieu of these necessities a silly overcoat or a pair of shoes + from the cheap department store up the street. He was too young and no + doubt too selfish to admit that he was by way of outgrowing his clothes at + least once if not twice a year, or that there is such a spectre as wear + and tear. He became sullen, irritable and not infrequently rude to Mr. + Bingle. Once when Melissa sharply rebuked him for his ingratitude, he came + back at her with an argument that baffled her for the time being: he could + not see why Mr. Bingle had been so good to Kathleen. Why had she been + given a rich, happy home while he and all of the others were brought to a + place like this? Melissa, finding no immediate response to this, boxed his + ears. + </p> + <p> + The younger members of the brood were not involved in this graceless + agitation. The complaints stopped with Guinivere. Harold, Rosemary and + Rutherford were too young to realise the state of destitution into which + the family had fallen. They were quite happy, contented and, so far, + unaware of the gravity of a situation which was more or less apparent to + their elders. Frederick, Marie Louise and Wilberforce formed the higher + group of malcontents, and their mutterings reached the acute ears of a + second and less formidable group composed of Reginald, Henrietta and + Guinivere. The influence of the three older children, envied and imitated + by the next three in order of age, was responsible for the inclusion of + this second group in the general tendency toward unruliness and + resentfulness. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle sensed this unhappy condition of affairs. His soul was sorely + tried. Was he doing the right thing by these children? He was doing his + best, but was his best all that they were entitled to under the + circumstances? Was he depriving them of a bigger chance in life? He had + taken them out of the byways, but was he leading them to the highways? The + whining, peevish submission on the part of the larger boys and girls; the + unmistakable interrogation that always lurked in their eyes; the frequent + outbursts of temper; the quarrels that came up every day among them—all + of these went to prove they were sliding back into the byways. There was + no gainsaying that, he would say to himself. Insolence, insubordination + grew apace. Once Frederick, in the heat of passion over a well-deserved + rebuke, called him a "damned old fool." + </p> + <p> + Moreover, was he doing right by Mrs. Bingle? Was it possible that she + might never come back to him who loved her more than he could have loved + even a child of his own? Would he be the one to blame? + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that he finally consented to listen to the + suggestions of the cold and unemotional Mrs. Force. + </p> + <p> + The wife of the president of the bank was the sort of person who gets into + the newspapers by all the hooks and crooks known to her sex. To begin + with, she made charity a business. As Chairman of two or three + organizations declaring for the betterment of society, high and low, she + was quoted on nearly every question that came up for discussion in the + public prints. She recognised the advantage in her day of being an + anti-suffragist. She saw the value of associating herself with the + movement to create and maintain a bureau for the distribution of high + class literature among low class readers, and she belonged to a society + which elevated the stage by giving Sunday night dress rehearsals for the + benefit of destitute millionaires. She had a conspicuous box at the Opera, + and encouraged the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals by + appearing at the Horse Show in Madison Garden without spurs. + </p> + <p> + But it was as President of the Society for the Restoration of King Manuel + to the throne of Portugal that she arose above the ordinary multitude of + publicity seekers. This was a movement so unique and so suggestive of pomp + that many of the prominent show-girls tried to promote themselves into + royal notice by joining the society. They were almost unanimously in + favour of the Restoration. Mrs. Force was constantly being interviewed + about the hopes and designs of King Manuel, and she was always quoted as + saying that the "time is not yet ripe for the unfolding of our plans or I + would be only too happy to tell you everything—and I may be able to + give you something of interest next week if you will call me up." + </p> + <p> + Soon after the Bingle disaster, she allied herself with a Society for the + Relief of Incompetent Parents, and later on took up the cause of + Children's Rights and Wrongs. Quite palpably it was Mr. Bingle's dilemma + that inspired her to interest herself in these hitherto neglected + enterprises. She began her duties as a member and supporter of the causes + by at once declaring war upon poor Mr. Bingle. She put him into a state of + siege before he even suspected that hostilities had begun, and then + constituted herself Red Cross nurse, sanitary expert, peace intermediary, + and everything else that she could think of at the time. + </p> + <p> + Operations began in November. She had Mr. Bingle brought into her + husband's private office at the bank, and there she explained the motives + and objects of the Society and talked unrestrainedly of the rights of + little children, calmly assuming that the astonished bookkeeper had no + rights of his own and therefore was not entitled to a word in the shape of + interruption. + </p> + <p> + "Purely as a matter of humanity, Mr. Bingle, it is necessary for the + Society to take these children away from you. We are taking children away + from their natural parents every day and finding suitable homes for them, + so it isn't reasonable for you to stand in our way, realising, as you + must, that you are not the father of a single one of those poor innocents, + all of whom are morally if not legally the property of this or kindred + societies. We do not recognise the rights of a parent, so why should we + consider those of one who attempts, through a mistaken idea of + benevolence, to direct the future, the destiny of—ah—the + destiny of—But surely you know what I mean, Mr. Bingle. Now, I am + not questioning the sincerity of your motives. I am heartily in accord + with the original inspiration which led you to take these poor waifs into + your home. But, don't you see, the idea works both ways. Charity begins at + home, to be sure, but I submit that it all depends upon the character of + the home. I do not call a four room flat a home. It may be all right for + charity to begin there, in a small way, but it shouldn't drive out common + sense, Mr. Bingle. The Society will take these children off of your hands. + It will provide for them in every way. Come, now, give me a complete list + of the little ones and—" + </p> + <p> + "I'll—I'll think it over, Mrs. Force," said Mr. Bingle desolately. + "I can't be expected to see it from your point of view right at the start, + you know. Let me go on for a year or two longer and then—" + </p> + <p> + "No," said she firmly, fixing him with a relentless eye. "We would regret + exceedingly to be forced to call upon the authorities in the case, Mr. + Bingle. Of course, you are aware that we can invoke the aid—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, goodness no!" cried Mr. Bingle piteously. "You wouldn't think of + taking them from me in that way, would you, Mrs. Force?" + </p> + <p> + "For your sake and for theirs it may be necessary," said she, and then + wearying of her philanthropic labours, abruptly dismissed him with a curt: + "And now, good day, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + Agents from the Society began to visit the little flat; others made a + practice of seeing that the older children went to school every day, and, + if they were absent, to pester Mr. Bingle with inquiries. Once when + Wilberforce had a sore throat, a strange and extremely business-like + doctor called and took a culture, at the same time making a note of the + congested condition of the sleeping quarters. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Force took to bringing fashionably dressed ladies to the flat so + that they might see for themselves; and docile looking gentlemen in dark + clothes and galoshes came to mutter over the extraordinary impropriety of + allowing boys and girls to live in the same home together. + </p> + <p> + Soon after Napoleon was taken away by the bride and bridegroom, Mrs. Force + came with her secretary and interviewed the children. The secretary took + down notes while Mrs. Force put the questions to the older boys and girls. + Mr. Bingle had been virtually ordered out of the room. Afterwards he was + called in to hear the report which showed that Frederick, Marie Louise, + Wilberforce and Reginald seldom had enough to eat, were always cold and + unhappy, and were really quite eager to go into other homes, if it would + help "poor daddy." The smaller children whimpered, but it was because they + were overawed and frightened by Mrs. Force, who in the Seawood days had + always been looked upon by them as the "bad fairy." Melissa, good soul, + openly professed that she and Mr. Bingle could manage to take care of the + "kids" all right, but in secret she prayed that the Society would take + away a half a dozen or so of the little ingrates. + </p> + <p> + At last Mr. Bingle agreed to let the children go, but stipulated that they + should be sent direct to private homes, and not go, like a flock of sheep, + into an asylum or Orphans' Home from which they might be parcelled out + singly to any Tom, Dick or Harry who came to look them over. He also + insisted on having the prospective "bidders" apply to him in person. He + would be the judge. He would look them over, and if they suited him, all + well and good; if not, he would keep the children until the right and + proper persons came along. + </p> + <p> + His stand was a firm one. He refused to recede an inch from this final + position. In vain they argued that it would be the part of wisdom, in fact + that it would be absolutely imperative to take them to a comfortable, + commodious dormitory where the business end of such undertakings was + attended to in routine order and not in the helter-skelter fashion that he + advocated. + </p> + <p> + "I have just begun to realise," he said, "what it is to try to bring other + people's children up for them, so, if you please, I submit that I know + more about the business than this society knows or ever can hope to know. + I have given them everything. I have loved them and they have loved me. In + adversity I still love them, but I fear that I cannot say as much for + them. They are not my flesh and blood. They know it, my friends—they've + never been led to believe that anything else is the case. Now, I am ready + and willing to carry out my obligations to them. I am prepared to do all + that is in my power to bring them up in the right way, to make good men + and women of them. I am not willing, however, to palm them off on other + people without first telling those people what they are to expect. I do + not blame these boys and girls for resenting what fate has brought them + to. It is quite natural that they should feel as they do. I do not call it + ingratitude. It is human nature. Even a small boy may reveal symptoms of + human nature, Mrs. Force, if you get him into a corner. Now, I want to say + to you and your friends here that I will let them go on one condition, and + that is that each goes into a home that I personally approve of and only + after I have told the head of that home all that I know about the child he + seeks to adopt. I appreciate your interest in my behalf and I thank you + for your untiring efforts. I believe that you are sincerely in earnest. + But I ask you to do me the honour of permitting me to get out of my bad + bargain in my own way and in my own time. There is no especial need of + haste." + </p> + <p> + It was pointed out to him that many of those desiring to adopt children + lived in distant states and cities, principally in small towns or upon + farms. It might be impossible for them to come to New York to see him or + the children. He still refused to give an inch. + </p> + <p> + And so the Society, satisfied that it had achieved a victory, set about to + find fathers and mothers for the nine Bingles, and Mr. Bingle sat down to + wait for the final struggle that was to come, or, more properly speaking, + for the nine separate struggles that lay ahead of him. The children were + told what they might expect in the near future, and Mr. Bingle's heart was + sorely hurt by the very evident enthusiasm with which they received the + news. The younger ones, swept along by the current, and less subtle than + their elders, plied Mr. Bingle with a hundred eager, innocent questions, + and every one of them seemed to look upon the coming separation as a lark! + It was not unusual to catch two or three of the older ones slyly, but + excitedly discussing the prospective change, and always they averted their + eyes and dropped their voices when Mr. Bingle drew near. Once he heard + Marie Louise say in anger to Wilberforce that she'd bet daddy would keep + her to the last because she was getting big enough to wash dishes and make + beds! + </p> + <p> + The poor man was beginning to lose faith, not in human nature alone, but + in himself. He grimly remarked to Melissa one day that "it isn't safe to + count chickens even after they are hatched, especially when your eyes are + smarting. I thought I knew more than God, Melissa, and if there was a + bramble bush handy I'd jump into it in the hope that I might scratch my + eyes back in again, as the saying goes." + </p> + <p> + "Well, anyhow, Mr. Bingle," Melissa replied, impressed by this confession + of failure, "as soon as the kids have left we'll have Mrs. Bingle back + again, and that's something to look forward to, sir. We'll go back to the + old way of living, which was the best, after all, wasn't it? Just you and + me and Mrs. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle hesitated for a moment. "When you and Diggs are married, + Melissa, don't make the mistake of adopting a child." + </p> + <p> + "We won't, sir," said Melissa confidently. She twisted the corner of her + apron for a few seconds and then ventured hardily: "Miss Stokes is + expecting a baby, sir." + </p> + <p> + "You mean Mrs. Watson, Melissa. Dear me, that is good news. A boy or a + girl? God bless my soul, what a silly question! You see, I'm so in the + habit of choosing the gender in advance that I quite forgot myself. I + meant to inquire WHEN." + </p> + <p> + "They've been married five months, sir," said Melissa. + </p> + <p> + Two weeks before Christmas, Mrs. Force came to the bank to report to Mr. + Bingle that homes were in view for six of the children, in fact for all + except Frederick, Marie Louise and Wilberforce. It appears that people + hesitate about taking youngsters as old as these three, and as steeped in + vice and ignorance as naturally might be expected in boys and girls of + that age. She said, however, that the Society was making a point of + telling people how nicely and how advantageously all of the children had + been reared by the late Mr. Bingle. She smiled when she said the "late Mr. + Bingle," for it was a capital joke and she had every intention of making + the most of it. + </p> + <p> + It was proposed that the applicants should meet Mr. Bingle and the + children at the offices of the Society on the Saturday before Christmas, + which fell on a Thursday. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle objected. He said he couldn't think of letting them go before + Christmas. These people would have to wait until after Christmas Eve, and + that was final. President Force, coming to his wife's rescue, ironically + suggested to the little bookkeeper that it was barely possible that other + people were in the habit of inflicting children with "The Christmas + Carol." He flushed, however, under the mild stare with which Mr. Bingle + favoured him, and proceeded to change his tune with considerable alacrity. + A happy thought seemed to have struck him with some suddenness. + </p> + <p> + "By Jove, Bingle, I have a splendid scheme. What could be more fitting + than that these child-seekers should receive just what they want on + Christmas morning? That's the ticket, my dear," he said, turning to his + wife. "Fix it so that a child is delivered bright and early on Christmas + morning—in its own stockings, of course—and there you are! A + Merry Christmas for everybody, and perhaps a Happy New Year. What do you + think of it, Bingle?" + </p> + <p> + "Splendid!" said Mr. Bingle. "I wish I could have thought of that when I + was in the business myself. It would have been great to have a new baby + every Christmas morning. I will agree to that, Mrs. Force, provided I + approve of the people I'm supposed to be Santa Claus for." + </p> + <p> + On the Saturday before Christmas he went to the offices of the Society + with ALL of the children, for the industrious Mrs. Force had produced + claimants for the three older ones, and when he took the brood home to + supper long after seven o'clock that evening, homes and fresh parents were + assured for all of them. To be sure, Frederick and Marie Louise objected + to living on upstate farms, and Reginald howled bitterly over being + promised to a Jewish family in West End Avenue. He had set his heart on + being brought up as an Irishman. Some of them were to remain in New York + City, one was to go to Philadelphia and another to Bridgeport. Harold, + Rosemary and Rutherford were to undergo a complete change of name. They + were going into families where for sentimental reasons, a John, a Betty + and a Jeremiah were wanted. Guinivere stood in grave danger of being + called Prue, after somebody's grandmother, and Henrietta was to be + shortened to Etta. + </p> + <p> + It was understood that the agents from the Society were to call for the + youngsters on Christmas Eve, so that they might be ready for delivery the + first thing in the morning. The Society was prepared to attend to all of + the legal requirements incident to the transfer. Mr. Bingle was to sign + what he quaintly called a "blanket affidavit," covering the entire + collection, and that was to be the end of the Bingle regime. + </p> + <p> + Christmas Eve came at last. The day had been bitterly cold, and Mr. Bingle + coming in from his final walk with the four small children, who had been + taken out to see the lighted shop windows before the last supper they were + to have together, was blue in the face and shivering as with a chill. + Melissa caught him in the act of removing his muffler from Rosemary's + neck. He had already taken his thin overcoat from Harold's shoulders, so + she missed that part of his personal sacrifice. She asked with + considerable asperity if he was trying to get pneumonia. + </p> + <p> + "No," said Mr. Bingle, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering; "I'm + not, Melissa. I'm trying to head off the croup." + </p> + <p> + "You'll probably have it yourself to-night." + </p> + <p> + "I think that would be rather jolly," he said. "I haven't had it since I + was the size of Rosemary." + </p> + <p> + She thought he was losing his mind, and told Diggs so when he came in at + six o'clock to help her with the feast they were to have. + </p> + <p> + "Get away from that stove, Freddy, and you too, Marie Louise," she + commanded. "Can't you see your daddy is shivering? Hustle now! Don't soak + up all the heat in the room. Let him stand in front of the fire, you + little—" + </p> + <p> + "Now, now, Melissa," said Mr. Bingle, reproachfully; "don't blame the + kiddies. They're cold and—by the way, is there no steam in the + radiator?" + </p> + <p> + "I shut off the measly thing awhile ago," she said. "There was too much + cold air coming up through the pipes. Honestly, Mr. Bingle, if you + happened to stand near that there radiator you'd feel a draft." + </p> + <p> + The children were dressed in their Sunday best, prepared for the coming + exodus. They were neat and clean, and although six months had lengthened + their bodies and shortened their garments, their patches and shreds were + not so vindictive that they slapped Mr. Bingle's pride in face, if the + metaphor is permissible. + </p> + <p> + "I hope," said he, with his thin shoulders close to the fire, "that we + will have time for 'The Christmas Carol' before they—the—" his + voice shook a little—"before the gentlemen come for you, kidlets. + Perhaps if we were to hurry supper along a little bit, Melissa, we could + manage it." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to hear that thing again," said Frederick boldly. He + appeared to be the leader of a movement to squash "The Christmas Carol." + </p> + <p> + "Neither do I," said Marie Louise and Wilberforce. + </p> + <p> + "I want to hear about Tiny Tim," piped up Rosemary, almost in tears. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you haven't heard it all your life like we have," said Frederick, + scowling at the little one. "You've only heard it twice." + </p> + <p> + "Dear me," sighed Mr. Bingle, in evident distress. "Don't you want to hear + 'The Carol' before you say good-bye to daddy—forever?" + </p> + <p> + "No," said Frederick; "and I'll bet they don't read it where we're going, + either." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps not, Frederick," said he slowly, turning a rather wistful face + toward Melissa, who had come in with a pan full of coals. "There is one + thing I quite forgot, Melissa." + </p> + <p> + "What's that, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "I forgot to stipulate that the 'Carol' HAD to be read on Christmas Eve in + every one of these homes. Dear me, how could I have been so thoughtless." + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't worry about that, sir. You're giving these people enough + trouble without doing that to them. And as for you, Master Frederick, + you'll probably find that instead of reading the 'Carol' to you they'll + take you out in the woodshed and give you a touch of Dante's Infernal + every once in awhile." + </p> + <p> + "I'll—I'll kill 'em if they do," cried Frederick loudly. + </p> + <p> + "Frederick the Great!" exclaimed Melissa with vast scorn. "Here now, you + there, get to work and fetch the chairs and stools in from the bedrooms + and put 'em up to the table. There's a couple in the kitchen, Wilber. + Hustle out and—" + </p> + <p> + "Don't call me Wilber," snapped Wilberforce. "Haven't I always told you I + hate it? Remember you're only a servant. Don't you go—" + </p> + <p> + "Tut, tut!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, moving over so that Melissa could drop + the coals into the stove. "Remember you are only a gentleman, + Wilberforce." + </p> + <p> + "I'd like to know how I can remember it in a place like this," pouted the + boy. + </p> + <p> + "It's all right, Mr. Bingle," said Melissa cheerily, "I don't mind being + called a servant. It's better than 'hired girl.'" + </p> + <p> + There was a pathetic attempt at seasonable illumination and decoration in + the crowded living-room, sprigs of holly, some tapers and tinsel, cotton + snowballs and popcorn strands being in the least congested corners, and + the table had ten candles standing in two sedate rows. These were not to + be lighted until just before soup was served, and each participant at the + board was to light his or her candle from the taper supplied by Melissa. + </p> + <p> + Over in one corner of the room reposed a small pile of packages, each + neatly tied up with red ribbon. These represented the gifts of Mr. Bingle + and Melissa to the palpably indifferent youngsters. Two bottles of milk + stood on the radiator, which, according to Melissa, was infinitely colder + than the ice box in the pantry. Incidentally, it is worth while to mention + that in one of the bedrooms there were nine compactly wrapped bundles, + each marked by a name, but not tied up in red ribbon. They contained the + few belongings of the nine children, and they were all ready for the + coming of the Society's agents. During the day Mrs. Force had sent her + automobile and a footman to remove the toys and treasures left over from + the reign of plenty, taking them to headquarters for future distribution + among their owners. This was done while Mr. Bingle was at the bank. He + could not have endured this part of the business. + </p> + <p> + The Christmas Carol lay on the mantelpiece behind the stove, with Mr. + Bingle's reading glasses, both ready for use. + </p> + <p> + At six-thirty Mr. Diggs appeared, laden with bundles, and at his heels was + Watson, carrying a tremendous basket. They were clad in huge fur + overcoats, their faces were red from the cold, and their voices were + vastly cheerful. + </p> + <p> + "Merry Christmas, sir," said Diggs, and "Merry Christmas, sir," said + Watson. + </p> + <p> + "I've taken the liberty, sir—I mean to say, Watson and I 'ave, sir—of + fetching with us a thumping big Christmas dinner for you, seeing as you + will be quite alone and—er—you might say at peace again, sir. + Melissa, my dear, you will find hall the delicacies of the season in these + 'ere parcels, and I defy hanybody to show a finer turkey than is in that + basket. Wot say, Watson?" + </p> + <p> + "Fit to set before the King," said Watson with great pride in his voice. + </p> + <p> + "Wherefore I say 'Long Live the King,'" said Diggs, bowing elaborately + before Mr. Bingle, whose eyes were shining as he went forward to shake + hands with his old servants. + </p> + <p> + "God bless my soul, I—I—I thank you, gentlemen," he murmured. + "But, I say, wouldn't it be better to serve some of these things to-night, + before the children go away? What dif—" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes!" shouted the children. + </p> + <p> + "Begging your pardon, Mr. Bingle," said Diggs firmly, "but it is not to be + thought of, sir. This dinner is for you, and not a morsel is to be served + until to-morrow noon. These 'ere kids will 'ave their little stomachs + crammed full all day to-morrow and we hinsists that yours won't be if we + don't keep a pretty firm hand on you to-night, sir. Take the things out in + the kitchen, Watson, and—and 'ide 'em safe." + </p> + <p> + "Well, well," said Mr. Bingle helplessly. "I don't know what to say, + Diggs. What would you say, Reginald, if any one was as nice to you as Mr. + Diggs and Mr. Watson are to me?" + </p> + <p> + "I'd say open 'em up to-night and not be stingy," said Reginald, following + Watson with greedy eyes. + </p> + <p> + Melissa glared at him. "Just for that I ought to hold back your share of + the chicken dumplings, young man!" Then she got quite red in the face. Mr. + Bingle was looking at her in amazement. + </p> + <p> + "Chicken dumplings?" he murmured. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you see, sir," said Melissa, "I thought as how it wouldn't matter + to you if I went out on my own hook and got a few things for a Christmas + Eve dinner—just a couple of nice fat hens, and some asparagus, and + parsley, and sweet potatoes, and—well, just a few little things like + that. Thinks I, we can't afford to let these children go away without a + bang-up meal in their little insides, so's nobody could think they was + ever hungry in their lives, and so this morning I just stepped out and—oh, + yes, I forgot, sir, I DID get a few hot house grapes and one or two other + trifles, just to make it seem real, not to mention some celery and olives + and fruitcakes." + </p> + <p> + "Quite the thing, Melissa," said Diggs approvingly. "Quite the thing, my + dear. And did the men deliver the ham and firewood I—ahem! I beg + pardon!" + </p> + <p> + "Are we to have firewood for dinner to-night, Diggs?" inquired Mr. Bingle, + his voice trembling a little despite his good-natured smile. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you stupid, blundering English," cried Melissa in a voice that + shrivelled Diggs. + </p> + <p> + "That's it, sir, I AM a stupid, blundering Englishman right enough. + Blooming fool, sir, if you please. I didn't hintend to mention anythink + but the ham. The confounded firewood slipped in, sir. 'Owever, I trust + you'll overlook it, sir." + </p> + <p> + "I'm not overlooking firewood in this weather, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle + drily. "Won't you sit down? Excuse me for not—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, sir, thank you. I 'ave my duties to perform. Really, sir, I—" + </p> + <p> + "Go out into the kitchen, Mr. Diggs," commanded Melissa sharply. "God gave + you a tongue, but he didn't give you anything to hold it with." + </p> + <p> + "Quite so, quite so," agreed the flustered Mr. Diggs, edging toward the + kitchen whence through the open door came sounds of rattling pans and the + penetrating but comforting scent of stewed chicken. + </p> + <p> + "It is good of you and Watson to come down this evening, Diggs," said Mr. + Bingle, speaking with difficulty. "This must be the busiest night of the + year for you. How could you afford to get away?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, sir," said Diggs, after looking to Melissa for approval or + inspiration, "we decided as how Christmas comes but once a year, and as + the boys in the shop can manage very nicely without us for a couple of + hours, we says to ourselves we would come down and 'ear the 'Christmas + Carol' if you don't mind, sir, for old times' sake. Miss Stokes—I + mean to say, Mrs. Watson, will be along presently, sir. She stopped for a + spell, to relieve the cashier while she went to supper. And—" + </p> + <p> + "That's enough, Mr. Diggs," interrupted Melissa. "You'll spoil it if you + go on." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I say, Melissa—" + </p> + <p> + "Out to the kitchen with you, and get out of that fur coat. You are + perspiring like everything." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle called Diggs back just as he was on the point of disappearing + through the door. + </p> + <p> + "By the way, Diggs," he said, smiling broadly, "have you heard the news?" + </p> + <p> + "The news, sir? Is—is Mrs. Bingle—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" hissed Melissa. + </p> + <p> + "The news about Melissa. She is going to be married in this very room two + weeks from to-night, Diggs. How is that for news?" + </p> + <p> + "Married? Good God, sir!" gasped Diggs. + </p> + <p> + "Married to you, Diggs, and I am going to give the bride away!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, pshaw, Mr. Bingle!" cried Melissa, covering her flaming face with her + apron. + </p> + <p> + "Do—do you mean it, Mr. Bingle?" cried Diggs, with beaming eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I do. I'm getting tired of seeing you two around, so I'm going to MAKE + you get married. Now, don't say you'll refuse, Diggs, for—" + </p> + <p> + "Refuse! God bless you, sir—I—" + </p> + <p> + "You see," went on Mr. Bingle, coming to the poor fellow's relief, "I have + a notion that Mrs. Bingle will be home by that time, and—and we'll + get along very cosily here in—but, run along, Melissa! Bring in the + feast! Hey, children?" + </p> + <p> + The children shouted vociferously, and Reginald, pursuing Melissa to the + door, implored her to take back what she had said about the dumplings. To + his surprise, Melissa kissed him. + </p> + <p> + Later on, Diggs returned from the kitchen and approached Mr. Bingle, who + was sitting beside the stove with his back to the door, holding Rosemary + and Rutherford on his knees. + </p> + <p> + "Dinner is served, sir," said Diggs in his most formal, dignified manner. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle looked up, surprised by a voice that came resounding down from + the past. The children were already staring open-mouthed at Diggs, who + stood attired in his well-remembered dress-suit, the imposing, + self-contained figure of a butler of the most approved type. + </p> + <p> + "God bless my soul," gasped Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Quite so, sir," said Diggs smoothly. He drew out Mr. Bingle's chair, and + the little man, completely dazed, sank abruptly into it. The children + found their places, chattering like magpies. + </p> + <p> + "Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning over to speak softly in Mr. + Bingle's ear. + </p> + <p> + Then came Watson, in braid and buttons, stiff as a ramrod, chin high in + the air, and as supercilious as any footman in all the world, carrying the + soup. After a long, dry-eyed stare at the familiar figure that had always + seemed so unreal to him in the days when everything belonged to fairyland, + Mr. Bingle dropped his eyes and began fumbling blindly for the + bone-handled fork at his plate. + </p> + <p> + He heard Frederick cry out: "I don't want to go away now, Daddy! Hurray! + We've got Diggs and Watson back!" And then came the eager cries of many + other voices, all of one accord. They wanted to stay! He suddenly knew + why. + </p> + <p> + Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Through the mist that covered his + eyes, he saw the champagne glass that stood alone beside his plate. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII — THE LAST TO ARRIVE + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Bingle was an optimist. It seems hardly necessary to make this + statement, but for the purpose of giving him a fair start along a new line + of endeavour we resort to the distinctly obvious, and then announce that + he brushed away the tears and laughed as gaily as any of them over the + surprises that followed the one which momentarily caused him to falter. He + was not given to looking upon the dark side of things. Even as he sat + there at the head of the long table, he jocosely remarked to Diggs that he + would have to borrow a saw from the janitor the next day and reduce the + size of his board by five feet at least. Moreover, he could practice a + little economy by cutting the excess timber up into kindling wood, and no + doubt something could be saved by putting the over supply of china and + glassware on the top shelves of the pantry where it would be safe from + demolition unless the house took fire or an earthquake came along. Also a + great deal more room could be obtained in the flat by making firewood of + the extra chairs, to say nothing of the prospect of making a library and + conservatory out of the bedroom to be vacated by the boys. + </p> + <p> + "As a matter of fact, Diggs, this flat isn't so bad as might appear, and + the location is excellent. Quite handy for the Elevated, and not far from + the river in case one wants to take a sail in pleasant weather. The view + from the kitchen windows is capital. You could see East River quite + plainly if it were not for the buildings. My idea is to put some plants in + the room over there—the conservatory, I mean—and I expect to + get a dog later on. Mrs. Bingle is very fond of dogs. See that window over + there? Well, by sticking your head out of it a little way you can see + clear to heaven." + </p> + <p> + "THAT window, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir, that very one." + </p> + <p> + "Why, it opens into the airshaft, sir." + </p> + <p> + "To be sure it does. You have to look straight upward, of course, if you + want to see heaven, you know. And speaking of the airshaft, I am reminded + that it is really quite a picturesque one at times. The windows across the + way are sometimes very interesting, provided the shades are up. Usually, + however, when the shades over yonder are up, I see to it that ours are + down." + </p> + <p> + "May I fill your glass again, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "Is it empty?" + </p> + <p> + "Quite, sir." + </p> + <p> + "If you don't mind, Diggs, I think I shall save the rest of the wine until + after the children have gone," said Mr. Bingle, slowly. + </p> + <p> + Diggs reflected. "Very good, sir. A splendid idea, sir." + </p> + <p> + "And then I shall ask you and Watson and Melissa and Mrs. Watson to drink + with me to Mrs. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, sir." + </p> + <p> + "It does my heart good to see the way these young rascals eat, Diggs. They + haven't had a dinner like this in a long time. Have a little more chicken, + Wilberforce—and some Brussels sprouts. And how about you, + Rutherford? Anything more?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll have some more soup, daddy," said Rutherford from his high chair. He + was just ending the third course. + </p> + <p> + "Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + Melissa had come in to see that everything was going along in proper + order. She looked hard at Mr. Bingle's plate and then at the gentleman + himself. He met her reproachful gaze with one of mild apology. + </p> + <p> + "I'm saving my appetite for to-morrow, Melissa," he explained. + </p> + <p> + "You're not eating a thing," said Melissa sternly. "Mr. Diggs, what kind + of a lummix are you? Can't you see that he's stinting himself so's them—" + </p> + <p> + "Now, Melissa," implored Mr. Bingle, "don't say anything on Christmas Eve + that you'll be sorry for afterwards. It's all right, I assure you. I'm not + very hungry and—" + </p> + <p> + "But there's more than enough to go 'round," burst out Melissa wrathfully. + "There's no sense in your acting like this, Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "Sh!" + </p> + <p> + "Watson, give him some more of that chicken—the white meat, do you + understand? And where's the dressing? Mr. Diggs, get those rolls over here—lively! + Did he have any soup and fish? Did he—" + </p> + <p> + "Melissa, what are you trying to do?" demanded Mr. Bingle. "Stuff me so + full I'll die in the night?" + </p> + <p> + "And him lookin' that thin and pale and peaked," went on Melissa, glaring + at the unhappy butler and footman. "What have you got them buttons and + that striped vest for, Watson? Are you here as a spectator? Get a move on + now, both of you. And as for you, Mr. Bingle, I'm going to stand right + here and SEE that you eat. Do you suppose I got up this meal for a joke on + myself? Not much! The mashed potatoes, Watson! Never mind, Freddy, you can + have some more after your daddy's had all he wants. Gee whiz, I'm glad I + happened to come in when I did!" + </p> + <p> + Presently the door-bell rang—a feeble, broken tinkle reminiscent of + an original economy—and Mr. Bingle laid down his salad fork with a + sigh. The children started violently and a scared, uneasy look went around + the table. + </p> + <p> + "The Society's agents," said Mr. Bingle, closing his lips tightly to + prevent their trembling. "Freddy, will you please go to the door?" + </p> + <p> + "Beg pardon, sir," said Watson, almost reproachfully despite his lordly + air. Then, with stately tread, he passed into the little hallway and threw + open the outer door. + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to go," Henrietta was crying, and even Frederic looked + intently at his plate with eyes that were preparing to fill. The rest of + them were ready to whimper. After all, a bountiful meal and a full stomach + go a long way toward producing a reaction. They were not so keen to leave + Mr. Bingle as they were before the meal began. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Flanders! Mr. Flanders!" announced the high-chinned Watson. + </p> + <p> + First of all, the new arrivals paused to stare in astonishment at the + liveried footman, and then for an instant at the imperious Diggs, after + which they turned their gaze upon the table. + </p> + <p> + "Great Scott!" gasped Flanders. "Is this a dream?" + </p> + <p> + "Not on your life," said Watson, completely forgetting himself in an + ecstasy of delight. + </p> + <p> + There was a tremendous hub-bub, during which Diggs and Watson had a great + deal of difficulty in keeping their places as old and well-trained + servants. They were frequently on the verge of becoming prosperous + green-grocers and joining in the jollification. + </p> + <p> + First, the gorgeous Miss Colgate kissed Mr. Bingle, almost smothering the + poor gentleman in the wealth of furs which enveloped and adorned her. Then + she kissed nine smart little cheeks in rapid succession, all the while + crying "Merry Christmas" and "bless your heart," in chorus with every one + else and her cheery-voiced husband. + </p> + <p> + "Just had to run down, Mr. Bingle," Flanders was shouting as he pumped the + little man's arm violently up and down. "A year ago to-night it all + happened, you remember. Celebrating the greatest of all anniversaries. How + are you? Couldn't let THIS night go by without seeing you, sir—couldn't + possibly. Can't stay but a minute, though. Due at the theatre at half-past + seven. Amy goes on early in the first, you know—of course, you know, + having ordered her on when I had her entering when the act was half over. + How are you?" + </p> + <p> + "Fine! Fine!" gasped Mr. Bingle, almost speechless. + </p> + <p> + "And now," cried Amy Colgate, throwing open her fur coat, revealing a + dazzling gown of black and silver, "now for the fun! Mr. Footman, will you + admit the messengers from Humpty Dumpty land?" + </p> + <p> + In came four sprightly clowns, chalked and patched, clad in spots and + spangles, dancing like mad and grinning from ear to ear. Whirling around + the table, dodging the stove, vaulting the empty chairs, they stopped at + last to deposit in a heap upon the floor a whopping pile of parcels and + bundles, the topmost being a huge box of American Beauty roses. Almost + before the wide-eyed, gaping youngsters could realise what had happened, + the motley quartette vanished into the outer hall, the door banged to + behind them and Mr. Flanders was shouting: + </p> + <p> + "How's that for high? Eh? That's the way we do things up at Forty-second + Street. What have you got to say now, Mr. Bingle, on this Merry Christmas + Eve?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bingle, quite as excited as any of the shouting children, sat down + very suddenly in his chair at the head of the table. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, Dick, and you, Amy, and—and have something to eat. I—I—" + He stopped short, realising that he did not know what he was saying, but + vaguely hospitable in spite of himself. Then his arm went up to cover his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + "We haven't time," began Flanders, but caught a warning look from his + pretty wife. + </p> + <p> + "We will have dessert and coffee with you, Mr. Bingle," she said, coming + over to lay her hand upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + "Tha—that's fine," gulped Mr. Bingle with a mighty and partially + successful effort to regain control of his flitting senses. And it was + some time after that before he could trust himself to join in the merry, + excited chatter. He kept on repeating "God bless my soul," in response to + nearly every remark that was directed to him. + </p> + <p> + "You are not to open a single package until after we are gone," commanded + Amy Colgate later on, confronting the eager, covetous children as she + arose from the trunk which served as a chair for both herself and Mr. + Bingle in Diggs's hasty readjustment of the seats at table. "The roses are + for you, dear Mr. Bingle, with my love—my real love. I know that you + will take them to Mrs. Bingle to-morrow, but they are for you to-night. + Give her my love and wish her a Merry, Merry Christmas from Dick and me. + Please God she may soon come back to you and be as she used to be." She + peered intently, questioningly into his glistening eyes, and then put her + arm suddenly around his neck and cried softly in his ear: "Oh, you dear, + dear old goose!" + </p> + <p> + "Where is Melissa?" whispered Flanders to Diggs as that functionary was + helping him into his greatcoat. + </p> + <p> + "Almost on your very 'eels, sir," said Diggs, as nervous as any one else. + </p> + <p> + "I say, Melissa," said Flanders, turning upon the beaming hand-maiden, who + stood in the kitchen door with Watson's wife, "let me have a look at your + kitchen." He fairly pushed his way into the kitchen, dragging her after + him. "Hush! Don't interrupt me, my girl. He may suspect something and come + hustling out here after us. Now, Melissa, I trust you as I would trust the + Government of the United States. You are as honest as the sun, so I'm + taking no chances in handing you this little package to be delivered to + Mr. Bingle when he sits down to his lonely breakfast on Christmas morning. + The kids will be all gone and he'll—well, he'll need something to + brace him up a bit. Now, pay attention: this is a copy of the first + edition of 'The Christmas Carol,' and stuck between the leaves is + something that would cause this flat to be robbed to-night if the news got + down to the Bowery. Are you listening?" + </p> + <p> + "I—I am, sir," gasped Melissa, gripping the small package tightly + and shooting a look of apprehension at the kitchen window as if expecting + to see a thief pop into the fifth story window. + </p> + <p> + "Well, there is a thousand dollar bill concealed in that book. Don't drop + it! It won't bite you. Put it under your pillow to-night, and be sure he + gets it for breakfast. The little note will explain everything." + </p> + <p> + "Goodness, Mr. Flanders, it's a dreadful thing to have in bed with a + person. I won't sleep a wink." + </p> + <p> + "So much the better," said Flanders cheerfully. "Now, you'll not forget to + have it at his place in the morning, will you?" + </p> + <p> + "If I live through the night, sir, it will be served with his coffee. I + shan't even tell Mr. Diggs." She did not mean this as a reflection upon + the integrity of her suitor, but, fearing that it might be taken as such, + she made haste to add: "So if I'm found murdered in my bed, you needn't + accuse him of doing it." + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Amy Colgate had kissed all of the children again and was + standing guard over the heap of presents, talking so gaily and so + incessantly that, despite Mr. Bingle's glances in the direction of the + kitchen, he was unable to satisfy his curiosity. + </p> + <p> + "You really are quite cosy here, Mr. Bingle," she was saying. "Have you + anything new to show me?" + </p> + <p> + He pondered. "I think there's a new hole in the carpet over there, Mrs. + Flanders. And I've taken a new lease on life. Dr. Fiddler dropped in at + the bank yesterday to tell me that Mrs. Bingle may be able to come home + before long, so you see I shall have to get busy fixing the place up a + bit. She likes to have everything neat and tidy, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Is she still with her mother?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. Fiddler says she may have to go to the hospital for a while + before coming here, but it's nothing to be worried about. A trifling + operation, he says. He's like all doctors. You never can get 'em to commit + themselves. I shall go up to see her to-morrow. I've got a little present + for her, you know. I've sort of been expecting something from her to-night—a + pair of slippers or a half dozen handkerchiefs or something like that—but + perhaps they will come in the morning. She never forgets me. Of course, + being sick and discouraged may have kept her from—and then again, on + the other hand, she may have crochetted me a dressing gown or a fancy + waistcoat and prefers to give it to me when I go out to see her to-morrow, + not wanting to trust it to the Express Company, don't you know. Well, + Dick, how do you like our kitchen?" + </p> + <p> + "Bully! Come along, Amy. We mustn't be late. See you soon, Mr. Bingle. You + must bring Mrs. Bingle up to see the piece as soon as she's able. By + George, we ARE doing business, though. Sixteen thousand dollars last week. + Turning 'em away every night. Seventeen hundred dollars last night and—" + </p> + <p> + "Hush, Dick! Mr. Bingle knows you are an author. You don't have to act the + part, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Right you are. It's getting to be a habit. I can't help contrasting this + Christmas Eve with the one a year ago. I didn't have ten dollars to my + name when I went out to hear you read 'The Christmas Carol,' Mr. Bingle." + </p> + <p> + "And now I haven't ten dollars to my name," said Mr. Bingle cheerily. + "Luck is like the sun, Dick. It doesn't stay up all the time. Sometimes I + look back upon the past ten years and wonder if they don't belong to the + fellow who wrote the 'Arabian Nights' and not to me. They were not real, + not a bit of it. And yet I can't remember ever having found a queer old + jar at the seashore, nor having released a good geni from its smoky + insides. So I suppose I really must have lived them." + </p> + <p> + "Don't let yourself get lonely, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders, gripping the + other's hand. "Don't allow yourself to mope over the loss of these—ahem! + They will all have nice, happy homes and grow up to be splendid—" + </p> + <p> + "Come on, Dick," called his wife from the little hall, where she was + surrounded by a suddenly repressed group of children. She had been + whispering something to them, and they were ashamed. + </p> + <p> + The door-bell gave forth its stuttering tinkle once more, and again the + impassive Watson stalked to the entry. The next instant a white-furred + figure bounded through the door, rushed across the room and precipitated + itself forcibly into the arms of Mr. Bingle, who barely had time to + prepare himself for the onslaught. + </p> + <p> + It was Kathleen. Behind her stalked the elegant Mr. and Mrs. Sydney Force. + </p> + <p> + There had been a time when Mrs. Force scarcely deigned to notice Miss Amy + Fairweather. But there is a great difference between a poor governess and + a popular goddess. The bright and shining star of Broadway, with a suite + of rooms at the Plaza, a fascinating and much-courted husband, and a firm + grasp on the shifting attention of the idle rich, was a person to be + recognised even by the charitably inclined. And so Mrs. Force neglected to + employ her lorgnon in scrutinising Miss Colgate, and made the most of an + opportunity to release a long-suppressed effusiveness. + </p> + <p> + Later on, in a moment of quiet obtained by a somewhat imperative command + to the noisy children, she announced to Mr. Bingle that she must be + running along to a dinner and the opera, and that she hoped he would have + everything ready when the agents for the Society called at half-past + eight, so that there would be no delay in getting the youngsters off in a + specially chartered Fifth Avenue stage. Then she turned sweetly to Miss + Amy Colgate and said: + </p> + <p> + "May I take you up town in my car, Mrs. Flanders?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flanders replied just as sweetly. "No, thank you, Mrs. Force. Our own + limousine is waiting." + </p> + <p> + "We've come to hear the 'Christmas Carol,' Bingle," said Mr. Force after + his wife and Mr. and Mrs. Flanders had gone. "Kathleen and I expect to + come to see you on every Christmas Eve, if you'll have us. You've got us + on your hands, old man, and you can't shake us off." + </p> + <p> + "God bless my soul," said Mr. Bingle, visibly moved. "I remember that you + DID use it as an argument when you took Kathleen away from me. Still, I + bear it no grudge." + </p> + <p> + "I love the 'Christmas Carol,' Daddy," cried Kathleen, snuggling close to + him. + </p> + <p> + "Sh! You must not call me Daddy now, dear." + </p> + <p> + "I shall! You'll always be my daddy." + </p> + <p> + "And how about—" he pointed to Mr. Force. + </p> + <p> + "Oh," she said easily, "I call him father." + </p> + <p> + Then came the distribution of presents. A footman brought up numerous + gifts from the rich Kathleen to her one time foster brothers and sisters. + They had nothing to give to her in return, and Mr. Bingle afterwards said + that it was greatly to their credit that they were able to look at him + with an accusation in their eyes, for, said he, it went to prove that they + were mortified over not being in a position to observe the old rule about + giving and receiving. As a matter of fact, several of them tried to + transfer to Kathleen the simple, inexpensive presents he had just given to + them out of his own humble pile, all of which, he argued, went far toward + establishing his point, notwithstanding the fact that they manifestly + despised the very things they were so ready to give away. He overheard + Frederick whispering to Kathleen that he hoped he was going to a place + where he could have enough money to buy her the right kind of a present + for her next Christmas, and that it was rotten luck to be as poor as all + this. Mr. Bingle strained his ears to catch Kathleen's reply, and it was + such that his face brightened; he afterwards sidled up to her and stroked + her hair with loving, gentle fingers. + </p> + <p> + There was one rather large, cumbersome pasteboard box in the corner, which + Diggs passed up to him the last of all. + </p> + <p> + "Don't open it till to-morrow, Mr. Bingle," said Melissa in a panic, + whereupon Diggs jerked it away from him with more haste than good manners. + It was marked quite plainly: "To Mr. Bingle from Melissa," and bright and + early the next morning it turned out to be a fur lined overcoat. + </p> + <p> + Once more Melissa was dragged into the kitchen, this time by the furtive, + uneasy Mr. Force. While they were out of the room a messenger boy came to + the front door with a small package for Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, at last, something from Mary. I was sure she wouldn't forget me on + Christmas Eve. She never has and I'm sure—Hello! This isn't her + writing. 'Monsieur Thomas Singleton Bingle.' Now what can—" + </p> + <p> + "Open it, Daddy," cried Kathleen. + </p> + <p> + "Stand back! Maybe it's an infernal machine. These anarchists are blowing + up all the rich men in town nowadays. This may be the end of me. Ah!" He + had cut the string with a carving knife and now exposed to view a box of + cigars. There was a card attached. With some difficulty he made out: "From + your life-long friend, with best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy + New Year." It was signed by "Napoleon." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force had closed the door behind him. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, + after a curt nod of the head to Mrs. Watson, who was vainly trying to wash + the dishes and at the same time see all that was going on in the outer + room. + </p> + <p> + "See here, young woman, I want you to give these two envelopes to Mr. + Bingle when he comes in to breakfast in the morning." He produced two long + blue envelopes and thrust them into her hand. "Not a word to him to-night, + d'you hear? Put them under your pillow and sleep on 'em—with one eye + open if possible." + </p> + <p> + "Good gracious," she said, with her broadest grin, "I shan't sleep for a + week. They look terribly important." + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell you what they contain," said Mr. Force, after a moment. "You + ought to know what you are guarding, my girl. This one contains Kathleen's + present. Do you remember that pretty little cottage and farm just above my + place in the country? The cottage with the ivy and the maples and the old + stone wall? Well, this is a deed to that property. It is my daughter's + present to her 'daddy,' the gentleman who made her the lady she is and who + has just made a new man of Sydney Force. This—" + </p> + <p> + "Gee!" exclaimed Melissa, pop-eyed and trembling with joy. "What next? + Now, I've got to sleep on a house and lot, besides—" She caught + herself up in time. + </p> + <p> + "This envelope contains my present to him. It is an appointment as manager + and superintendent of my estates in Westchester County and in Connecticut—for + life, Melissa. You won't fail to give them to him for breakfast, will + you?" + </p> + <p> + "God bless my soul!" gasped Melissa, unconsciously falling into a + life-long habit of the man who loved everybody. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + The agents came at eight o'clock, a gloomy man in uniform and two + kind-looking, sweet-faced women in brown. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Mr. Bingle's voice broke occasionally as he read "The Christmas Carol" to + a silent, attentive audience made up of Kathleen and Sydney Force, + Melissa, Diggs and the two Watsons. Fortunately, he knew the story so well + that he was not called upon to perform the impossible. It was seldom that + he could see the print on account of the mist that lay in his tired, + forlorn grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + Far below in the street outside, a half-frozen clarinetist was sending up + a mournful carol from the mouth of his reed. Somewhere in the distance a + high-voiced child was singing. And the wind played a dirge as it marched + past the windows of the candle-lighted flat. + </p> + <p> + At last he came to the end. He laid the book upon the table, fumbled for + his spectacle case, and contrived to smile as he held out a hand to + Kathleen. + </p> + <p> + "You will come every Christmas Eve, won't you, Deary?" he said. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Daddy," murmured Kathleen, between the sobs that Tiny Tim had drawn + from her soft little heart. "Every Christmas Eve, Daddy?" + </p> + <p> + "Then it won't be so bad as it seems now," he said gently. Not a word said + he of the nine children who had gone away. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Force had glanced surreptitiously at his watch at least a dozen times + during the reading of the story. An anxious frown settled on his brow and + an observer might have remarked the strange, listening attitude that he + affected at times, such as the alert cocking of his head and an intense + squinting of the eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Now, if my dear Mary could only pop in on us and—" but Mr. Bingle + choked up suddenly and turned his attention to the stirring of the coals + in the stove. + </p> + <p> + The door-bell pealed again, this time with surprising authority and + decision. Mr. Bingle started as if shot. As he faced the little hall, his + eyes were wide with an incredulous stare of wonder. + </p> + <p> + "Good God in heaven," he murmured, "can it be possible that—but no! + It cannot be Mary. That would be too wonderful. Watson—Melissa, will + you please see who's—who's there?" + </p> + <p> + As rigid as a post he stood over the stove, holding the poker in his hand, + his eyes fastened upon the door as Watson sprang to open it. The cheerful + voice of old Dr. Fiddler—the GREAT Dr. Fiddler—came roaring + into the room ahead of its owner. + </p> + <p> + "By the Lord Harry, it's a cold night—Hello! What's this? Liveried + servants again? Well, upon my soul, I—Ah, there you are, Bingle! How + are you, Force?" + </p> + <p> + The next instant he was wringing Mr. Bingle's hand and booming Christmas + greetings to every one in hearing—and out of it, for that matter, + such a voice he had! + </p> + <p> + "Mary? What—how is she, Doctor?" cried Mr. Bingle, peering beyond + the bulky form of the doctor as if expecting to see his wife in the little + hallway. + </p> + <p> + "Fine as a fiddle," said Dr. Fiddler, using a pet and somewhat personal + phrase. + </p> + <p> + "No—no bad news?" stammered Mr. Bingle. "You're not trying to break + anything gently to me, are you?" + </p> + <p> + "Gently?" roared the doctor. "Does a rhinoceros break things gently?" He + threw off his great ulster and began jerking at his gloves. "Just thought + I'd run down to see you, Bingle. Christmas Eve comes but once a year. Hope + I'm not too late for the Carol. I missed hearing it last year, and—" + </p> + <p> + "If you'll swear to me that Mary is all right, I'll—I'll read it + over again," cried Mr. Bingle. + </p> + <p> + "I swear it on my word as a gentleman," said Fiddler, "but for heaven's + sake don't read it over again. I'll take it for granted. Besides I always + cry when we get to the Tiny Tim part, so—I say Force, don't you + cry?" + </p> + <p> + "I did to-night," said Sydney Force, his face beaming. + </p> + <p> + "And you, Diggs?" + </p> + <p> + "Like a blooming baby, sir," said Diggs, and Watson blew his nose + violently. + </p> + <p> + "Doctor, I thought for a moment that it was Mary at the door," said Mr. + Bingle slowly. He was still trembling. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, she won't be here for a couple of weeks, Bingle—perhaps three. + But she's coming, old man—coming with banners flying and bells on + her toes. 'Gad, you won't know her when you see her to-morrow." He sent a + quick, frowning glance around the room. "They're gone, eh? All of 'em? + Good! I must tell you in advance, Bingle, that Mrs. Bingle will have to + bring a nurse with her—for a while, at least. So, you see, we'll + need all the room—" + </p> + <p> + "A nurse? Oh, my Lord!" gasped Mr. Bingle, dropping into a chair as his + knees gave way beneath him. "Is—is it as bad as that?" + </p> + <p> + "Cheer up!" cried the doctor, laying a hand upon his shoulder, and + suddenly giving him a violent shake. "Nothing to be alarmed over, I give + you my word. She's as fine as a fiddle, I tell you. And now, give me a + full glass of that amazing egg-nogg you make, Bingle. I'm frozen to the + bone." + </p> + <p> + "Egg-nogg?" murmured Mr. Bingle, helplessly. "Why, God bless my soul, I—I + never thought of it. Melissa, have we any whiskey in the house? No, of + course not—and we have no cream, I fear, so—" + </p> + <p> + "Beg pardon, sir," interrupted Diggs, "we 'ave all of the hingredients. + Watson 'appened to think of the cold trip 'ome, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, then," cried Mr. Bingle. "I'll mix the grog for you, Doctor, in + two shakes of a lamb's tail." + </p> + <p> + He flew into the kitchen. Instantly Mr. Force had Dr. Fiddler by the arm. + The others crowded close about the pair. + </p> + <p> + "How is it, Doctor? All right?" + </p> + <p> + "Wonderful!" whispered Dr. Fiddler. "She WOULD have her own way about it, + and, by gad, I think she was inspired, now that it's turned out so + beautifully. Half-past six this morning. She's a strong, perfect woman. + I've got my car waiting downstairs and as soon as I've broken the news to + him by degrees—don't want him to knock under completely, you know—I'm + going to take him up to the hospital." + </p> + <p> + Melissa leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. + </p> + <p> + "Boy or girl, Doctor?" she whispered. + </p> + <p> + "A boy, God bless him," said Dr. Fiddler. + </p> + <h3> + THE END + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Bingle, by George Barr McCutcheon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mr. Bingle + +Author: George Barr McCutcheon + +Illustrator: James Montgomery Flagg + +Posting Date: April 12, 2013 [EBook #5963] +Release Date: June, 2004 +First Posted: October 1, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. BINGLE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + +MR. BINGLE + +BY George Barr McCutcheon + +Author of "Graustark," "The Hollow of Her Hand," "The Prince of +Graustark," etc. + +With Illustrations by JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG + + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES + II RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION + III THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE + IV FORTY MINUTES LATE + V THE STORY OF JOSEPH + VI THE HONORABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE + VII SEARCHERS REWARDED + VIII THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK + IX THE MAN CALLED HINMAN + X MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL + XI A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE + XII THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON + XIII TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! + XIV THE LAW'S LAST WORD + XV DECEMBER + XVI ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE + XVII THE LAST TO ARRIVE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES + + +A coal fire crackled cheerily in the little open grate that supplied +warmth to the steam-heated living-room in the modest apartment of Mr. +Thomas S. Bingle, lower New York, somewhere to the west of Fifth Avenue +and not far removed from Washington Square--in the wrong direction, +however, if one must be precise in the matter of emphasizing the social +independence of the Bingle family--and be it here recorded that without +the genial aid of that grate of coals the living-room would have been a +cheerless place indeed. Mr. Bingle had spent most of the evening in +trying to coax heat from the lower regions into the pipes of the +seventh heaven wherein he dwelt, and without the slightest sign of +success. The frigid coils in the corner of the room remained obdurate. +If they indicated the slightest symptom of warmth during the evening, +it was due entirely to the expansive generosity of the humble grate and +not because they were moved by inward remorse. They were able, however, +to supply the odour of far-off steam, as of an abandoned laundry; and +sometimes they chortled meanly, revealing signs of an energy that in +anything but a steam pipe might have been mistaken for a promise to do +better. + +Mr. Bingle poked the fire and looked at his watch. Then he crossed to +the window, drew the curtains and shade aside and tried to peer through +the frosty panes into the street, seven stories below. A holly wreath +hung suspended in the window, completely obscured from view on one side +by hoar frost, on the other by a lemon-coloured window shade that had +to be handled with patience out of respect for a lapsed spring at the +top. He scraped a peep-hole in the frosty surface, and, after drying +his fingers on his smoking jacket, looked downward with eyes a-squint. + +"Do sit down, Tom," said his wife from her chair by the fireplace. "A +watched pot never boils. You can't see them from the window, in any +event." + +"I can see the car when it stops at the corner, my dear," said Mr. +Bingle, enlarging the peep-hole with a vigour that appeared to be +aggravated by advice. "Melissa said seven o'clock and it is four +minutes after now." + +"You forget that Melissa didn't start until after she had cleared away +the dinner things. She--" + +"I know, I know," he interrupted, still peering. "But that was an hour +ago, Mary. I think a car is stopping at the corner now. No! It didn't +stop, so there must have been some one waiting to get on instead of +off." + +"Do come and sit down. You are as fidgety as a child." + +"Dear me," said Mr. Bingle, turning away from the window with a shiver, +"how I pity the poor unfortunates who haven't a warm fire to sit beside +tonight. It is going to be the coldest night in twenty years, according +to the--there! Did you hear that?" He stepped to the window once more. +The double ring of a street-car bell had reached his ears, and he knew +that a car had stopped at the corner below. "According to the weather +report this afternoon," he concluded, re-crossing the room to sit down +beside the fire, very erect and expectant, a smile on his pinched, +eager face. He was watching the hall door. + +It was Christmas Eve. There were signs of the season in every corner of +the plain but cosy little sitting-room. Mistletoe hung from the +chandelier; gay bunting and strands of gold and silver tinsel draped +the bookcase and the writing desk; holly and myrtle covered the wall +brackets, and red tissue paper shaded all of the electric light globes; +big candles and little candles flickered on the mantelpiece, and some +were red and some were white and yet others were green and blue with +the paint that Mr. Bingle had applied with earnest though artless +disregard for subsequent odours; packages done up in white and tied +with red ribbon, neatly double-bowed, formed a significant centrepiece +for the ornate mahogany library table--and one who did not know the +Bingles would have looked about in quest of small fry with popping, +covetous eyes and sleekly brushed hair. The alluring scent of gaudily +painted toys pervaded the Christmas atmosphere, quite offsetting the +hint of steam from more fortunate depths, and one could sniff the odour +of freshly buttered pop-corn. All these signs spoke of children and the +proximity of Kris Kringle, and yet there were no little Bingles, nor +had there ever been so much as one! + +Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were childless. The tragedy of life for them lay +not in the loss of a first-born, but in the fact that no babe had ever +come to fill their hungry hearts with the food they most desired and +craved. Nor was there any promise of subsequent concessions in their +behalf. For fifteen years they had longed for the boon that was denied +them, and to the end of their simple, kindly days they probably would +go on longing. Poor as they were, neither would have complained if fate +had given them half-a-dozen healthy mouths to feed, as many wriggling +bodies to clothe, and all the splendid worries that go with colic, +croup, measles, mumps, broken arms and all the other ailments, +peculiar, not so much to childhood as they are paramount to parenthood. + +Lonely, incomplete lives they led, with no bitterness in their souls, +loving each other the more as they tried to fill the void with songs of +resignation. Away back in the early days Mr. Bingle had said that +Christmas was a bleak thing without children to lift the pall--or +something of the sort. + +Out of that well-worn conclusion--oft expressed by rich and poor +alike--grew the Bingle Foundation, so to speak. No Christmas Eve was +allowed to go by without the presence of alien offspring about their +fire-lit hearth, and no strange little kiddie ever left for his own bed +without treasuring in his soul the belief that he had seen Santa Claus +at last--had been kissed by him, too--albeit the plain-faced, wistful +little man with the funny bald-spot was in no sense up to the +preconceived opinions of what the roly--poly, white-whiskered, +red-cheeked annual visitor from Lapland ought to be in order to make +dreams come true. + +The Bingles were singularly nephewless, nieceless, cousinless. There +was no kindly-disposed relative to whom they could look for the loan of +a few children on Christmas Eve, nor would their own sensitiveness +permit them to approach neighbours or friends in the building with a +well-meant request that might have met with a chilly rebuff. One really +cannot go about borrowing children from people on the floor below and +the floor above, especially on Christmas Eve when children are so much +in demand, even in the most fortunate of families. It is quite a +different matter at any other time of the year. One can always borrow a +whole family of children when the mother happens to feel the call of +the matinee or the woman's club, and it is not an uncommon thing to +secure them for a whole day in mid-December. But on Christmas Eve, +never! And so Mr. and Mrs. Bingle, being without the natural comforts +of home, were obliged to go out into the world searching for children +who had an even greater grudge against circumstances. They frequently +found their guests of honour in places where dishonour had left them, +and they gave them a merry Christmas with no questions asked. + +The past two Christmas Eves had found them rather providentially +supplied with children about whom no questions had ever been asked: the +progeny of a Mr. and Mrs. Sykes. Mr. Sykes being dead, the care and +support of five lusty youngsters fell upon the devoted but far from +rugged shoulders of a mother who worked as a saleswoman in one of the +big Sixth Avenue shops, and who toiled far into the night before +Christmas in order that forgetful people might be able to remember +without fail on the morning thereafter. She was only too glad to lend +her family to Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. More than that, she was ineffably +glad, on her own account, that it was Christmas Eve; it signified the +close of a diabolical season of torture at the hands of a public that +believes firmly in "peace on earth" but hasn't the faintest conception +of what "good will toward men" means when it comes to shopping at +Christmas-time. + +Mrs. Sykes' sister Melissa had been maid-of-all-work in the modest +establishment of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle for a matter of three years and a +half. It was she who suggested the Sykes family as a happy solution to +the annual problem, and Mr. Bingle almost hugged her for being so +thoroughly competent and considerate! + +It isn't every servant, said he, who thinks of the comfort of her +employers. Most of 'em, said he, insist on going to a chauffeurs' ball +or something of the sort on Christmas Eve, but here was a jewel-like +daughter of Martha who actually put the interests of her master and +mistress above her own, and complained not! And what made it all the +more incomprehensible to him was the fact that Melissa was quite a +pretty girl. There was no reason in the world why she shouldn't have +gone to the ball and had a good time instead of thinking of them in +their hours of trouble. But here she was, actually going out of her way +to be kind to her employers: supplying a complete family for Christmas +Eve purposes and never uttering a word of complaint! + +The more he thought of it, the prettier she became. He mentioned it to +his wife and she agreed with him. Melissa was much too pretty, said +Mrs. Bingle, entirely without animus. And she was really quite a +stylish sort of girl, too, when she dressed up to go out of a Sunday. +Much more so, indeed, than Mrs. Bingle herself, who had to scrimp and +pinch as all good housewives do if they want to succeed to a new dress +once a year. + +Melissa had something of an advantage over her mistress in that she +received wages and was entitled to an afternoon off every fortnight. +Mrs. Bingle did quite as much work about the house, ate practically the +same food, slept not half so soundly, had all the worry of making both +ends meet, practised a rigid and necessary economy, took no afternoons +off, and all without pecuniary compensation--wherein rests support for +the contention that Melissa had the better of her mistress when all is +said and done. Obviously, therefore, Mrs. Bingle was not as well off as +her servant. True, she sat in the parlour while Melissa sat in the +kitchen, but to offset this distinction, Melissa could sing over her +pans and dishes. + +Mr. Bingle, good soul, insisted on keeping a servant, despite the +strain on his purse, for no other reason than that he couldn't bear the +thought of leaving Mrs. Bingle alone all day while he was at the bank. +(Lest there should be some apprehension, it should be explained that he +was a bookkeeper at a salary of one hundred dollars a month, arrived at +after long and faithful service, and that Melissa had but fifteen +dollars a month, food and bed.) Melissa was company for Mrs. Bingle, +and her unfailing good humour extended to Mr. Bingle when he came home +to dinner, tired as a dog and in need of cheer. She joined in the +table-talk with unresented freedom and she never failed to laugh +heartily over Mr. Bingle's inspired jokes. Altogether, Melissa was well +worth her wage. She was sunshine and air to the stifled bookkeeper and +his wife. + +And now, for the third time, she was bringing the five rollicking +Sykeses to the little flat beyond Washington Square, and for the +thousandth time Mr. and Mrs. Bingle wondered how such a treasure as +Melissa had managed to keep out of heaven all these years. + +Mr. Bingle opened the front door with a great deal of ceremony the +instant the rickety elevator came to a stop at the seventh floor, and +gave greeting to the five Sykeses on the dark, narrow landing. He +mentioned each by name and very gravely shook their red-mittened paws +as they sidled past him with eager, bulging eyes that saw only the +Christmas trappings in the room beyond. + +"Merry Christmas," said the five, not quite in one voice but with +well-rehearsed vehemence, albeit two tiny ones, in rapt contemplation +of things beyond, quite neglected their duty until severely nudged by +Melissa, whereupon they said it in a shrill treble at least six times +without stopping. + +"I am very pleased to see you all," said Mr. Bingle, beaming. "Won't +you take off your things and stay awhile?" + +It was what he always said to them, and they always said, "Yes, thank +you," following out instructions received on the way down town, and +then, in some desperation, added, "Mr. Bingle," after a sententious +whisper from their aunt. + +They were a rosy, clean-scrubbed lot, these little Sykeses. Their +mother may not have fared overly well herself, but she had contrived to +put flesh and fat on the bones of her progeny, and you would go a long +way before you would find a plumper, merrier group of children than +those who came to the Bingle flat on Christmas Eve in their very best +garments and with their very best appetites. The eldest was ten, the +youngest four, and it so happened that the beginning and the end of the +string were boys, the three in between being Mary, Maud, and Kate. + +Mrs. Bingle helped them off with their coats and caps and mufflers, +then hugged them and lugged them up to the fire, while Melissa removed +her skunk tippet, her poney coat and a hat that would have created envy +in the soul of a less charitable creature than the mistress of the +house. + +"And now," said Mr. Bingle, confronting the group, "who made you?" + +"God, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, very much after the habit of +a dog that is ordered to "speak." + +"And who was it that said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me?'" + +"Jesus, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, eyeing the pile on the +table. + +"And where do you expect to go when you die?" demanded Mr. Bingle, with +great severity. + +"Heaven!" shouted the perfectly healthy Sykeses. + +"How is your mother, Mary?" asked Mrs. Bingle, always a rational woman. + +Mary bobbed. "She's working, ma'am," said she, and that was all she +knew about her mother's state of health. + +"Are you cold?" inquired Mr. Bingle, herding them a little closer to +the grate. + +"Yes," said two of the Sykeses. + +"Sir," admonished Melissa. + +"Sir!" said all of the Sykeses. + +"Now, draw up the chairs," said Mr. Bingle, clearing his throat. "Mary, +you'd better take Kate and Georgie on your lap, and suppose you hold +Maud, Melissa. It will be more cosy." This was his way of overcoming +the shortage in chairs. + +Now, it was Mr. Bingle's custom to read "The Christmas Carol" on +Christmas Eve. It was his creed, almost his religion, this +heart-breaking tale by Dickens. Not once, but a thousand times, he had +proclaimed that if all men lived up to the teachings of "The Christmas +Carol" the world would be sweeter, happier, nobler, and the churches +could be put to a better use than at present, considering (as he said) +that they now represent assembling places for people who read neither +Dickens nor the Scripture but sing with considerable intelligence. It +was his contention that "The Christmas Carol" teaches a good many +things that the Church overlooks in its study of Christ, and that the +surest way to make good men out of ALL boys is to get at their hearts +while their souls are fresh and simple. Put the New Testament and "The +Christmas Carol" in every boy's hand, said he, and they will create a +religion that has something besides faith for a foundation. One +sometimes forgets that Christ was crucified, but no one ever forgets +what happened to Old Scrooge, and as Mr. Bingle read his Bible quite +assiduously it is only fair to assume that he appreciated the +relativeness of "The Christmas Carol" to the greatest Book in all the +world. + +For twenty years or more, he had not once failed to read "The Carol" on +Christmas Eve. He knew the book by heart. Is it any wonder, then, that +he was a gentle, sweet-natured man in whom not the faintest symptom of +guile existed? And, on the other hand, is it any wonder that he +remained a bookkeeper in a bank while other men of his acquaintance +went into business and became rich and arrogant? Of course, it is +necessary to look at the question from both directions, and for that +reason I mention the fact that he remained a bookkeeper while those who +scorned "The Christmas Carol" became drivers of men. + +Experience--and some sage conclusions on the part of his wife--had +taught him, after years of unsatisfactory practice, that it was best to +read the story BEFORE giving out presents to the immature guests. On a +great many occasions, the youngsters--in those early days they were +waifs--either went sound asleep before he was half way through or +became so restless and voracious that he couldn't keep his place in the +book, what with watching to see that they didn't choke on the candy, +break the windows or mirrors with their footballs, or put some one's +eye out with a pop-gun. + +[Illustration with caption: The "kiddies" kept their eyes and ears open +and sat very still while he read to them of Tiny Tim and his friends] + +Of late he had been reading the story first and distributing the +"goodies" and toys afterward. It was a splendid arrangement. The +"kiddies" kept their eyes and ears open and sat very still while he +read to them of Tiny Tim and his friends. And when Mr. Bingle himself +grinned shamefacedly through his tears and choked up so that the words +would not come without being resolutely forced through a tightened +throat, the sympathetic audience, including Mrs. Bingle and +Melissa--and on one occasion an ancient maiden from the floor +above--wept copiously and with the most flattering clamour. + +A small reading-lamp stood on the broad arm of his chair, which faced +the expectant group. Mr. Bingle cleared his throat, wiped his +spectacles, and then peered over the rims to see that all were +attending. Five rosy faces glistened with the sheen of health and soap +lately applied with great force by the proud but relentless Melissa. + +"Take off your ear-muffs, James," said Mr. Bingle to the eldest Sykes, +who immediately turned a fiery red and shrank down in his chair +bitterly to hate his brothers and sisters for snickering at him. +"There! That's much better." + +"They're new, Mr. Bingle," explained Melissa. "He hasn't had 'em off +since yesterday, he likes 'em so much. Put 'em in your pocket, Jimmy. +And now listen to Mr. Bingle. Are you sure they ain't too heavy for +you, ma'am? Georgie's getting pretty big--oh, excuse me, sir." + +Mr. Bingle took up the well-worn, cherished book and turned to the +first page of the text. He cleared his throat again--and again. +Hesitation at a time like this was unusual; he was clearly, suddenly +irresolute. His gaze lingered for a moment on the white knob of a door +at the upper end of the room, and then shifted to his wife's face. + +"I wonder, my dear, if Uncle Joe couldn't be persuaded to come in and +listen to the reading," he ventured, a wistful gleam in his eyes. "He's +been feeling better the last few days. It might cheer him--" + +"Cheer your granny," said Mrs. Bingle scornfully. "It's no use. I asked +him just before dinner and he said he didn't believe in happiness, or +something to that effect." + +"He is the limit," said Melissa flatly. "The worst grouch I've ever +seen, Mr. Bingle, even if he is your own flesh and blood uncle. He's +almost as bad as Old Scrooge." + +"He is a sick man," explained Mr. Bingle, lowering his voice; "and he +hasn't known very much happiness in his lifetime, so I suppose we ought +to overlook--er, ahem! Let me see, where was I?" He favoured young Mary +Sykes with a genial grin. "Where was I, Mary?" + +Mary saw her chance. Without a trace of shame or compunction, she said +page seventy-eight, and then the three grown people coughed in great +embarrassment. + +"You sha'n't come next Christmas," whispered Melissa very fiercely into +Mary's ear, so ominously, in fact, that Mary's lip began to tremble. + +"Page one," she amended, in a very small voice. James moved uneasily in +his chair, and Mary avoided his gaze. + +"I believe I'll step in and ask Uncle Joe if he won't change his mind," +said Mr. Bingle. "I--I don't believe he has ever read the Christmas +Carol. And he is so lonely, so--er--so at odds with the world that--" + +"Don't bother him, Tom," said his wife. "Get on with the reading. The +children are impatient." She completed the sentence in a yawn. + +Mr. Bingle began. He read very slowly and very impressively at first, +but gradually warmed up to the two-hour task. In a very few minutes he +was going along rapidly, almost monotonously, with scant regard for +effect save at the end of sentences, the ultimate word being pronounced +with distinct emphasis. Page after page was turned; the droning sound +of his voice went on and on, with its clock-like inflections at the end +of sentences; the revived crackle of coals lent spirit to an otherwise +dreary solo, and always it was Melissa who poked the grate and at the +same time rubbed her leg to renew the circulation that had been checked +by the limp weight of Katie Sykes; the deep sighs of Mrs. Bingle and +the loud yawns of the older children relieved the monotony of sound +from time to time; and the cold wind whistled shrilly round the corners +of the building, causing the youngsters to wonder how Santa was +enduring the frost during his tedious wait at the top of the chimney +pot. Mrs. Bingle shifted the occupants of her lap more and more often +as the tale ran on, and with little attempt to do so noiselessly; +Mary's feet went to sleep, and James fidgeted so violently that twice +Mr. Bingle had to look at him. But eventually he came to the acutely +tearful place in the story, and then he was at his best. Indeed, he +quite thrilled his hearers, who became all attention and blissfully +lachrymose. Mrs. Bingle sobbed, Melissa rubbed her eyes violently, Mr. +Bingle choked up and could scarcely read for the tightening in his +throat, and the children watched him through solemn, dripping eyes and +hung on every word that told of the regeneration of Scrooge and the sad +happiness of Tiny Tim. And finally Mr. Bingle, as hoarse as a crow and +faint with emotion, closed the book and lowered it gently to his knee. + +"There!" he said. "There's a lesson for you. Don't you feel better for +it, young ladies and gentlemen?" + +"I always cry," said Mary Sykes, with a glance of defiance at her +eldest brother, who made a fine show of glowering. + +"Everybody cries over Tiny Tim," said Melissa. "As frequent as I've +heard Mr. Bingle read that story I can't help crying, knowing all the +time it's only a novel. It seems to me I cry a little worse every time +it's read. Don't you think I do, ma'am? Didn't you notice that I cried +a little more this time than I did last year?" + +"It touches the heart-strings," said Mr. Bingle, blowing his nose so +fiercely that Georgie whimpered again, coming out of a doze. "I'll bet +my head, dear, that Uncle Joe would sniffle as much as any of us. I +wish--er--I do wish we'd asked him to come in. It would do him a world +of good to shed a few tears." + +"He hasn't a tear in the whole hulk of him," said Mrs. Bingle, +sorrowfully. + +"Poor old man," said Melissa, relenting a bit. + +"I bet I know what he's doing," said James brightly. + +"Doing? What is he doing, James?" demanded Mr. Bingle, surprised by the +youngster's declaration. + +"You can't fool me. I bet he's out there dressing up to play Santa +Claus." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, blinking. The thought of crabbed Uncle +Joe taking on the habiliments of the genial saint was too much for his +imagination. It left him without the power to set James straight in the +matter, and Uncle Joe was immediately accepted as Santy by the +expectant Sykeses, all of whom revealed a tremendous interest in the +avuncular absentee. They even appeared to be properly apprehensive, and +crowded a little closer to the knees of the grown-ups, all the while +eyeing the door at the upper end of the room. + +Melissa's involuntary snort was not enlightening to the children, but +it served as a spur to Mr. Bingle, who abruptly gave over being +sentimental and set about the pleasant task of distributing the +packages on the table. Hilarity took the place of a necessary reserve, +and before one could say Jack Robinson the little sitting-room was as +boisterous a place as you'd find in a month's journey and no one would +have suspected that Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were eating their hearts out +because the noisy crew belonged to the heaven-blest Mrs. Sykes and not +to them. + +Ten o'clock came. Mr. and Mrs. Bingle sat side by side in front of the +fireplace, her hand in his. The floor was littered with white tissue +paper, red ribbons, peanut hulls and other by-products of festivity; +the rugs were scuffled up and hopelessly awry; chairs were out of their +accustomed places--two or three of them no longer stood upon their legs +as upright chairs should do--and the hearth was strewn with coals from +an overturned scuttle. Candle grease solidified on the mantelpiece and +dripped unseen upon the mahogany bookcase--all unnoticed by the dreamy, +desolate Bingles. They were alone with the annual wreck. Melissa and +the five Sykeses were out in the bitter night, on their frolicksome way +to the distant home of the woman who had so many children she didn't +know what to do for them, not with them. They had gone away with their +hands and pockets full, and their stomachs, too, and they had all been +kissed and hugged and invited to come again without fail a year from +that very night. + +Mr. Bingle sighed. Neither had spoken for many minutes after the +elevator door slammed behind the excited, shrill-voiced children. Mr. +Bingle always sighed exactly at this moment in his reflections, and +Mrs. Bingle always squeezed his hand fiercely and turned a pair of +darkly regretful eyes upon him. + +"I am sorry, dear heart," she murmured, and then he kissed her hand and +said that it was God's will. + +"It doesn't seem right, when we want them, need them so much," she +said, huskily. + +And then he repeated the thing he always said on Christmas Eve: "One of +these days I am going to adopt a--er--a couple, Mary, sure as I'm +sitting here. We just can't grow old without having some of them about +us. Some day we'll find the right sort of--" + +The bedroom door opened with a squeak, slowly and with considerable +caution. The gaunt, bearded face of a tall, stooping old man appeared +in the aperture; sharp, piercing eyes under thick grey eyebrows +searched the room in a swift, almost unfriendly glance. + +"The infernal brats gone, Tom?" demanded Uncle Joe harshly. + +Mr. and Mrs. Bingle stiffened in their chairs. The tall old man came +down to the fireplace, disgustedly kicking a stray, crumpled sheet of +tissue paper out of his path. + +"Oh, they are perfect dears, Uncle Joe," protested Mrs. Bingle, trying +her best not to bristle. + +"I wish you had come in for a look at 'em--" began Mr. Bingle, but the +old man cut him off with a snort of anger. + +"Cussed little nuisances," he said, holding his thin hands to the blaze. + +"I don't see how you can say such things about children you don't know +and can't--" began Mrs. Bingle. + +He glared at her. "You can't tell me anything about children, Mary. I'm +the father of three and I know what I'm talking about. Children are the +damnedest curse on earth. You ought to thank God you haven't got any." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION + + +Now, Mr. Joseph Hooper had excellent cause for being a sour old man, +and in a measure was to be pitied because of his attitude toward the +young of his species. He had not been well-used by his own children, +although it is no more than right to explain that they were hardly what +any one save a parent would call children when they turned against him. +At that particular period in the history of the Hooper family, the +youngest of Joseph's three children was seventeen, the oldest +twenty-two--and it so happens that the crisis came just fifteen years +prior to the opening scene in this tale. It did not actually come on +Christmas Eve, but, as a matter of record, on the 2lst of December at +about half-past three in the afternoon. At that precise instant a judge +sitting on the bench in one of the courtrooms in New York City signed +the decree divorcing Mrs. Joseph Hooper from her husband, and four +minutes later the lady walked out of the building with her son and two +daughters, all of them having deliberately turned their backs upon the +miserable defendant in the case. As all of the children were of an age +to legally choose the parent with whom they preferred to live, and as +they elected to cast off the paternal for the maternal, it readily may +be seen that Mr. Hooper was not entirely without proof that this is a +cruel, heartless, ungrateful world and filled with gall. + +As a matter of fact, he had not been wholly to blame for the family +crash, notwithstanding a rather loose respect on his part for the +sanctity of the home. (It was not to be denied that he had strayed into +crooked paths and devious ways--and, to do him justice, he did not +attempt to deny it: he ventured only to EXPLAIN it.) According to his +version of the affair, the trouble began long before he took to wine +and women. It began with his wife's propensity for nagging. Being a +high-spirited, intelligent person with a mind of his own, Mr. Hooper +didn't like being nagged, and as he rather harshly attempted to put a +stop to it just as soon as it dawned upon him that he was being +hen-pecked, his wife, not to be outdone, went at it harder than ever. +And that is how it all began, and that is why I say that he was not +wholly to blame. She was very pretty and very peevish, and they lived a +cat and dog life for ten years after the birth of the last child. + +Mr. Hooper took to drink and then took to staying away from home for +days at a time. It was at this stage of the affair that the children +began to see him through their mother's eyes. Certain disclosures were +inevitable. In a word, Mrs. Hooper hired detectives, and finding +herself in a splendid position to secure all she wanted in the way of +alimony, heralded Mr. Hooper's shortcomings to the world. The only good +that ever came out of the unfortunate transaction, so far as Mr. Hooper +was concerned, was to be found in the blessed realisation that she had +actually deprived herself of the right to nag him, and that was +something he knew would prove to be a constant source of irritation to +her. + +But when his children turned against him, he faltered. He had not +counted on that. They not only went off to live with their mother, but +they virtually wiped him out of their lives, quite as if he had passed +away and no longer existed in the flesh. The three of them stood by the +mother--as they should have done, we submit, considering Mr. Hooper's +habits--and shuddered quite as profoundly as she when the name of the +erring parent was mentioned in their presence. Mr. Hooper couldn't for +the life of him understand this treachery on the part of his pampered +offspring, on whom he had lavished everything and to whom he had denied +nothing in the way of luxury. It was hard for him to realise that he +was as much of a scamp and scapegrace in their young eyes as he was in +the eyes of his wife--and the whole of his wife's family, even to the +remotest of cousins. + +In the bright days of their early married life, before he knew the +difference between what he looked upon as affectionate teasing and what +he afterwards came to know as persistent nagging, he deeded over to her +the house and lot in Madison Avenue. He did that willingly, cheerfully. +Two days after the divorce was granted, he paid over to her one hundred +thousand dollars alimony. He did that unwillingly, gloomily. And the +very next week the stock market went the wrong way for him, and he was +cleaned out. He hadn't a dollar left of the comfortable little fortune +that had been his. He remained drunk for nearly two months, and when he +sobered up in a sanitarium--and took the pledge for the first and last +time--he came out of the haze and found that he hadn't a friend left in +New York. Every man's head was turned away from him, every man's hand +was against him. + +He sent for his son to come to the cheap hotel in which he was living. +The son sent back word that he never wanted to see his face again. +Whereupon Joseph Hooper for the first time declared that the sons and +daughters of men are curses, and slunk out of New York to say it aloud +in the broad, free stretches of the world across which he drifted +without aim or purpose for years and years and always farther away from +the home he had lost. + +He always said to himself--but never so much as a word of it to any one +else--that if his wife hadn't driven him to distraction with her +nagging he would have avoided the happy though disastrous pitfalls into +which he stumbled in his desperate efforts to find appreciation. He +would have remained an honourable, faithful spouse to her, and an +abstainer--as such things go. He would have shared with her the love +and respect of their three children, and he would have staved off +bankruptcy with the very hundred thousand dollars that she exacted as +spite money. But she was a nagger, and he was no Job. There was a +modicum of joy in the heart of him, however: having been cleaned out to +the last penny, he was in no position to come up monthly with the +thousand dollars charged against him by the court for the support and +maintenance of two of his children until they reached their majority. +He took a savage delight in contemplating the rage of his late wife +when she realised that the children would have to be provided for out +of the income from the one hundred thousand she had received in a lump +sum, and he even thanked God that she was without means beyond this +hateful amount. It tickled him to think of her anguish in not being +able to spend the income from her alimony on furs and feathers with +which to bedeck herself. Instead of spending the five thousand on +herself she would be obliged to put it on the backs and into the +stomachs of her three brats! He chuckled vastly over this bit of good +fortune! It was really a splendid joke on her, this smash of his. No +doubt the children also hated him the more because of his failure to +remain on his feet down in Wall Street, but he consoled himself with +the thought that they would sometimes long for the old days when father +did the providing, and wish that things hadn't turned out so badly. + +In his hour of disgrace--and we may add degeneration--he possessed but +one blood relation who stood by him and pitied him in spite of his +faults. That was his nephew, Tom Bingle, the son of his only sister, +many years dead. But even so, he did not deceive himself in respect to +the young man's attitude toward him. He realised that Tom was kind to +him simply because it was his nature to be kind to every one, no matter +how unworthy. It wasn't in Tom Bingle to be mean, not even to his worst +enemy. Notwithstanding the fact that the young man had just taken unto +himself a wife, and was as poor as a church-mouse, the door and the +cupboard in his modest little flat were opened cheerfully to the +delinquent Uncle Joe, and be it said to the latter's discredit and +shame--he proceeded to impose upon the generosity of his nephew in a +manner that should have earned him a booting into the street. But young +Tom was patient, he was mild, he even seemed to enjoy being put upon by +the wretched bankrupt. The thing that touched his heart most of all and +caused him to overlook a great many shortcomings, was the cruel, +unfilial slap in the face that had been administered by the three +children of the man, and the crushing, bewildering effect it had upon +him. + +It was Tom who virtually picked the once fastidious Joseph Hooper out +of the gutter, weeks after the smash, and took him under his puny wing, +so to speak, during a somewhat protracted period of regeneration. The +broken, shattered man became, for the time being, the Bingle burden, +and he was not by any means a light or pleasant one. For months old +Joseph ate of his nephew's food, drained his purse, abused his +generosity, ignored his comforts and almost succeeded in driving the +young but devoted wife back to the home from which Tom had married her. + +It was at this juncture that the mild-mannered bookkeeper arose to the +dignity of a fine rage, and co-incidentally Joseph Hooper for the first +time realised what an overbearing, disagreeable visitor he had been and +departed, but without the slightest ill-feeling toward his benefactors. +Indeed, he was deeply repentant, deeply apologetic. He ruefully +announced that it would never be in his power to repay them for all +they had done for him, but, resorting to a sudden whim, declared that +he would make them his heirs if they didn't mind being used as a means +to convey his final word of defiance to the children who had cast him +off. Not that he would ever have a dollar to leave to them, but for the +satisfaction it would give him to cut the traitors off with the +proverbial shilling. Beset with the notion that this was an ideal way +to show his contempt for his offspring, he went to the safety deposit +vault and took there from the worthless document known as his last will +and testament and in the presence of witnesses destroyed the thing, +thereby disinheriting the erstwhile wife and her children as +effectually as if he had really possessed the estate set forth in the +instrument. + +"I'll make a will in your favour, Tom," he said at the time, with a +mocking grin, "and in it I will include this miserable carcass of mine, +so that you may at least have something to sell to the doctors. And who +knows? I may scrape together a few hundred dollars before I die, +provided I don't die too soon." + +"We will give you a decent burial, Uncle Joe," said Thomas Bingle, +revolting against the specific. "Do you suppose I would sell my uncle +to a--" + +"Haven't you a ray of humour in that head of yours?" demanded his +uncle. "Can't you SEE a joke?" + +"Well, if you were joking," said Bingle, relieved, "all well and good, +but it didn't sound that way." + +"You are a simple soul," was all that Joseph said, and then borrowed +fifty dollars from his nephew for a fresh start in the world, as he +expressed it. With this slender fortune in his purse he set out into a +world that knew him not, nor was it known to him. + +He came back fifteen years afterward, poorer than when he went away, +broken in health, old to the point of decrepitude, bedraggled, unkempt +and prideless. And once more Thomas Bingle took him in and provided the +prospective death-bed for him. They made the old derelict as +comfortable as it was in their power to do, and sacrificed not a little +in order that he might have some of the comforts of life. + +He was a very humble, meek old man, and they pitied him. Screwing up +his courage, Mr. Bingle went one day to the home of the son of Joseph +Hooper and boldly suggested that, inasmuch as the mother was no longer +living, it would not be amiss for him and his sisters to take the +father who created them back into the family circle once more, and to +ease his declining years. Mr. Bingle was ordered out of the rich man's +office. Then he approached the two daughters, both of whom had married +well, and met with an even more painful reception. They not only +refused to recognise their father but declined to recognise their +father's nephew. + +A few days afterward, a lawyer came to the bank to see Mr. Bingle. He +informed the bookkeeper that the Hooper family had been thinking +matters over and were prepared to pay him the sum of seventy-five +dollars a month for the care of Joseph Hooper, or, in other words, they +would contribute twenty-five dollars apiece toward sustaining the life +of one who was already dead to them. Moreover, they stood ready to pay +the expenses of his funeral when actual dissolution occurred, but +farther than that they could not be expected to go. + +Mr. Bingle flared up--a most unusual thing for him to do. "You tell +them that I will take care of Uncle Joe as long as he lives without a +nickel from them and that I'll bury him when he dies." + +"Out of your own pocket?" exclaimed the lawyer, who knew something of +bookkeepers' salaries. + +"Most certainly not out of anybody else's," said Mr. Bingle, with +dignity. "And you can also tell them that they are a pack of blamed +good-for-nothings," he added, with absolutely no dignity. + +"My dear sir." + +"Be sure to tell 'em, will you? If I was a swearing man I'd do better +than that but I guess it will do for a starter." + +"My clients will insist upon re-imbursing you for--" began the lawyer +stiffly, but Mr. Bingle snapped his fingers disdainfully, much nearer +the gentleman's nose than he intended, no doubt, and with a perfectly +astonishing result. The legal representative's hat fell off backwards +and he actually trod upon it in his haste to give way before the irate +little bookkeeper. + +"You tell 'em just what I said, that's all you've got to do," said Mr. +Bingle, and then picked up his visitor's hat and pushed the crown into +shape with a vicious dig. "Here's your hat. Good day." + +He was so boiling mad all the rest of the afternoon that he could not +see the figures clearly, and made countless mistakes, necessitating an +extra two hours' work on the books before he could even think of going +home. + +Arriving at the apartment, he found his wife in a state of +perturbation, not over his tardiness, but over the extraordinary +behaviour of Uncle Joe. The old man had been out most of the day and +had come in at five, growling and cursing with more than ordinary +vehemence. + +"He is in his bedroom, Tom, and I don't know what to make of him. He +has had bad news, I think." + +"Bad news?" cried Mr. Single. "The very worst news on earth wouldn't +seem bad to Uncle Joe after all he has gone through. I'll go in and see +him." + +"Be careful, dear! I--I--he may be insane. You never can tell what--" + +It turned out that the old man had visited his three children during +the day, going to each of them as a suppliant and in deep humility. +After fifteen years, he broke his resolve and went to them with his +only appeal. He wanted to die with his children about him. That was +all. He did not ask them to love him, or forgive him. He only asked +them to call him father and to let him spend the last weeks of his life +within the sound of their voices. + +Sitting at the supper table, he grimly related his experiences to the +distressed Bingles. + +"I went first to Angela's, Tom," he said, scowling at the centre-piece. +"Angela married that Mortimer fellow in Sixty-first Street, you +know--Clarence Mortimer's son. Ever seen their home? Well, the butler +told me to go around to the rear entrance. I gave him my card and told +him to take it up to MY DAUGHTER. I had a fellow in a drug-store write +my name neatly on some blank cards, Mary. The butler threatened to call +the police. He thought I was crazy. But just then old Clarence Mortimer +came up the steps. It seems that he is living with his son, having lost +all of his money a few years ago. He recognised me at once, and I knew +by the way he shook hands with me that he has been leading a dog's life +ever since he went broke. He said he'd speak to Angela--and he did. I +waited in the hall downstairs. Old Clarence didn't have the courage to +come back himself. A footman brought down word that Mrs. Mortimer could +not see Mr. Hooper. She was not at home to Mr. Hooper, and--never would +be. That was what her servant was obliged to tell me. So I went away. +Then I tried Elizabeth. She lives in one of those fifteen thousand +dollar a year apartments on Park Avenue. She has three lovely children. +They are my grand-children, you know, Tom. I saw them in the automobile +as I came out of the building and went my way after Elizabeth Bransone +had told me to my face--I managed to get in to see her--had told me +that I was a sight, a disgrace, that she couldn't bear to look at me, +and that I had better clear out before her husband came in. My own +daughter, Tom, my own flesh and blood. She informed me that provision +would be made for me, but she made it very plain--damnably plain--that +I was never to bother her again. So I went away from Elizabeth's. There +was only one of 'em left, and I hated to tackle him worse than either +of the girls. But I did. I went down to his office. He refused to see +me at first, but evidently thought it best to get the thing out of his +system forever, so he changed his mind and told the office boy to let +me in. Well, my son Geoffrey is a very important person now. He married +a Maybrick, you know, and he is a partner in old Maybrick's +firm--steamship agents. Geoffrey looked me over. He did it very +thoroughly. I told him I'd come to see if he couldn't do something +toward helping me to die a respectable, you might say comfortable +death. He cut me off short. Said he would give me a thousand dollars to +leave New York and stay away forever. I---" + +"I trust you did not accept the money," cried Mr. Bingle in a shocked +voice. + +"I'm pretty well down and out, Tom, but I'd sooner starve than to take +money from him in that way. So I told my son to go to the devil." + +"Good for you!" cried Mr. Bingle. "And then what?" + +"He is a humorous individual, that pompous son of mine," said old +Joseph, with a chuckle. "He said I ought to be ashamed of myself for +advising my own son to go to the devil in view of what a similar +excursion had done for me. I managed to subdue my temper--it's a bad +one, as you know--and put the matter up to him in plain terms. 'I am +your father, Geoffrey, when all is said and done. Are you going to kick +me out into the world when I've got no more than a month or two to +live? Are you going to allow my body to lie in the Potter's field? Are +you willing to allow this poor nephew of mine to take care of me, to +assume the responsibility of seeing that I get a decent burial in a +decent---'" + +"Oh, Uncle Joe, you oughtn't even to think of such things," broke in +his niece by marriage. "You MUST think of cheerful---" + +"You are good for years and years---" began Mr. Bingle. + +"Don't interrupt me," said Uncle Joe irascibly. "I guess I know what +I'm talking about. I'm good for a couple of months at the outside. I'm +seventy years old and I feel two hundred. Why, dammit, old Clarence +Mortimer said I LOOK a hundred. To make the story short, Geoffrey said +he had arranged to pay you for my keep, no matter how long I lasted, +but he thought I was foolish not to take the thousand and go to some +quiet little place in the country--and wait. If--if it should happen +that I lived longer than the thousand would carry me, he'd see to it +that I had more. Only he didn't want me hanging around New York. That +was the point, d'you see? He very frankly said that he had always sided +with his mother against me, and that was all there was to it, so far as +he was concerned. And, see here, Tom, he said you had been down to see +him about me. Is that true?" + +"Well, I--I thought perhaps--er--I might be able to bring about a +reconciliation," floundered Mr. Bingle. + +"And you found that in the upper circles it is not considered good form +to be reconciled unless it pays, eh? What would be the sense in +becoming reconciled to a wreck of a father, who hasn't a dollar in the +world, after getting along so nicely for fifteen years without him? No, +it isn't done, Tom--it's not the thing. Geoffrey made no bones about +admitting that as far as he is concerned, I have been dead for fifteen +years. He---" + +"Well then," said Mr. Bingle, slamming his fist upon the dining-table +so violently that the cutlery bounced, "why the dickens does he object +to burying you? If I discovered a relative that had been dead for +fifteen years, I'd see to it that he was buried, if only for the good +of the community." + +"He doesn't object to burying me," explained Uncle Joe. "He implies +that he'll do that much for me with pleasure. As a matter of fact, he +said that if I'd arrange to have some one notify him when I was +literally dead, he would see to it that I was buried. But I told him he +needn't bother his head about it, because I was quite sure you would do +it even more cheerfully than he and undoubtedly with less secrecy." + +"Cheerfully?" gasped the Bingles. + +"Cheerfully," repeated Uncle Joe firmly. "And now, can't we talk about +something else? I've done my best to make peace with my son and +daughters, and now I wash my hands of 'em. I never intended to weaken +in my resolve, but I--I just couldn't help it, Tom. I swore I'd never +look into their faces again, but, after all, I AM their father, you +see, and I suppose I'm getting weak and childish in my old age. I gave +in, that's all. I thought they might have some little feeling for me, +and--" He did not finish the sentence, and as the Bingles took that +instant to blow their noses and to look so intently at the electric +chandelier that their eyes smarted, it was perhaps just as well that he +ended his ruminations when he did. + +All this happened six weeks prior to Christmas Eve, and they were six +long, trying weeks for the two Bingles. The old man was sick two-thirds +of the time and had to have a physician. He insisted on having the now +famous Dr. Fiddler, one of the most expensive practitioners in New +York, obstinately refusing to listen to reason. Fiddler had been the +Hooper family physician years ago and that was all there was to be +said. He WOULD have him. So poor Tom Bingle sent for the great man, who +came and prescribed for his old friend and client. After a week the +Bingles began to count the number of visits, and grew lean and +gaunt-faced over the prospect ahead of them. Fiddler's fee was ten +dollars a visit--to a friend, he explained, in accounting for the +ridiculously low figure--and he came twice a day for nearly two weeks. +The Bingles did not complain. As Mr. Bingle said, they took their +medicine, even as Uncle Joe took his--only he thrived on it and they +withered. Dr. Fiddler was very nice about it, however. He assured Mr. +Bingle that he was in no hurry for his money. Any time before the first +of February would be perfectly satisfactory. He was only too glad to +have been instrumental in dragging his old friend, Joseph Hooper from +the very edge of the grave. + +"And if he has a recurrence of the--" he began suavely. + +"There's no danger of THAT, is there, Doctor? cried Mr. Bingle, +gripping his fingers tightly in his coat pockets. + +"Don't hesitate a moment, Mr. Bingle. Send for me. You may depend upon +it, I will come on the instant. I think your poor uncle has been very +badly--er--treated, Mr. Bingle." + +"Do you attend the families of his son and daughters--I mean to say, as +their regular--" + +"No," said Dr. Fiddler shortly, "I have not that felicity, Mr. Bingle." +And Mr. Bingle thought he understood why Dr. Fiddler felt that Uncle +Joe had been badly treated. + +Later on, Uncle Joe blandly asseverated that it pays to have the best, +no matter what it costs. "Why, one of these cheap, rattle-brained +doctors would have let me die, sure as fate. Old Fiddler comes high, +but he cures. If I should happen to get sick again, Tom, send for him +without delay, will you?" + +Mr. Bingle said he would, and he meant it. He had jotted down in the +back of a little notebook each successive visit of Dr. Fiddler, and, +consulting it from time to time, had no difficulty in realising that he +came high. Twenty-one visits, at ten dollars a visit, that's what it +amounted to, say nothing of the drug bill, the extra-food bill, the +night-nurse's wages, and the wear and tear on the nerves of his wife, +himself--and Melissa. For, it would appear, Melissa had nerves as well +as the rest of them, and Uncle Joe was the very worst thing in the +world for Melissa's nerves. She very frequently said so, and sometimes +to his face, although she never neglected him for an instant. In truth, +she shared with Mrs. Bingle the day nursing, and seldom slept well of +nights, knowing that the night-nurse was upsetting everything in the +kitchen and pantry in her most professional way. + +Of course Uncle Joe did not actually get well. He merely recovered. In +other words, he survived the attack of influenza and heart trouble, +only to go on ailing as he had ailed before. He was quite cheerful +about it, too. They used to catch him chuckling to himself as he sat +shivering over the fireplace, and he seemed to take especial delight in +demanding three eggs for breakfast when every one knew that eggs were +seventy-two cents a dozen. The only compensation they had out of the +experience--aside from the realisation that they were living up to a +principle--was the untiring effort he made to entertain them with +stories of his adventures as a tramp! He gracelessly confessed that he +had travelled under many names, and that he was known by various +soubriquets that would not sound well on Fifth Avenue but still +possessed the splendid virtue of being decorative. There was not the +slightest doubt that he had roamed the land over, and there was not +even the faintest suspicion that he had profited by travel. + +And this brings us up to Christmas Eve. With February not far away, and +Uncle Joe lamentably liable to have another attack, the Bingles +curtailed quite considerably in their preparations for the festivities +in honour of the five little Sykeses. They spent but a third of the +customary amount in providing presents, and they were not quite sure +that they were wise in spending as much as that. Uncle Joe went to +considerable pains to convince them that they were making fools of +themselves in throwing away money that might be needed for his funeral, +and absolutely refused to become a party to the affair. He moped in his +bedroom, over an oil-stove, and made himself generally unpleasant. As +for "The Christmas Carol," he had but one opinion about it, and this is +no place to express it. + +When he came into the sitting-room after the departure of the Sykeses, +breaking in upon the tender reflections of Mr. and Mrs. Single, he +represented the ghost who might have been at the feast but was, for +some reason, obligingly late. + +As he stood over the blaze, rubbing his bony old knuckles, he was a +depressing figure indeed. His gloomy eyes had no reflected glow in +them; his long, stooped frame suggested nothing so much as a +weather-worn scare-crow about which a thousand storms had thrashed. +There was no joy in his soul. + +"Yes," he said, as if they had disputed him without reason, "you ought +to be thankful you have no children. What you can see in this +tomfoolery about Christmas Eve is beyond me. Better save your money for +something worth while, that's what I say. Something worth while." + +"Well, WHAT, for instance?" demanded Mr. Bingle, suddenly irritated +beyond control. + +"Confound you, Tom, do you forget that you owe Dr. Fiddler more than +two hundred dollars?" snapped Uncle Joe, turning on him. + +"Oh, I will pay him--I will pay him all right, never fear," replied Mr. +Bingle, shrinking. + +Old Joseph Hooper regarded him keenly for a long time before speaking +again. His voice softened and his manner underwent a swift change. + +"Tom Bingle, you are the best man living to-day," he said, a strange +huskiness in his voice. "If you were not as good as gold you would kick +me out and--and--" + +"Kick you out, Uncle Joe!" cried Mr. Bingle, coming to his feet and +laying his hand on the bent shoulder. "God bless you, sir, I--I--I +ought to kick you out for SAYING such a thing!" + +And old Joseph suddenly laid his arm on the mantelpiece and buried his +face upon it, his gaunt figure shaking with sobs. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE + + +When Thomas Bingle made his inspired visit to Geoffrey Hooper in the +interest of peace, he took it upon himself to advise his wealthy cousin +to read "The Christmas Carol" before it was too late, and formed a +permanent and irradicable opinion of the pauper's son when that +individual curtly informed him that he was not in the habit of reading +"trash." Mr. Bingle was patient enough to inquire if he knew anything +about "The Christmas Carol" and Geoffrey in turn asked "who wrote the +words for it," although it really didn't matter, he added by way of +cutting off the reply of his astonished visitor, who naturally could +not have expected to know that his cousin was a consistent church-goer +and knew a great deal about Christmas carols. If it had been in his +power to hate any one, Mr. Bingle would have hated his solitary male +cousin for that stupendous insult to literature. As it was, he could +only pity him for his ignorance, and at the same time blame Uncle +Joseph for bringing up his son in such a slip-shod manner. + +It all went to show the trend of the world, however, in this callous +age of ours; it went to show that the right sort of missionary work was +not being performed. Mr. Bingle never forgave Geoffrey for calling "The +Christmas Carol" trash. In the light of what took place afterwards, he +felt that he was completely justified in an opinion formed almost on +the instant the abominable word was uttered. + +Christmas fell on a Wednesday. Three days out of each year Mr. Bingle +slept late of a morning: Christmas, Easter Sunday and Labour Day. On +this particular Christmas morning he slept much later than usual; the +little clock in the parlour was striking eight when he awoke and +scrambled out of bed. + +Mrs. Bingle always had her coffee in bed. She adhered strictly to that +pleasant custom for the somewhat pathetic reason that it afforded a +distinct exemplification of the superiority of mistress over maid. By +no manner of means could Melissa have arrived at this expression of +luxury. + +"Merry Christmas," said Mr. Bingle, crimping his toes on the cold +carpet and bending over to kiss his companion's cheek. She responded +with unwonted vigour, proving that she had been wide awake for some +time. + +"I shall get up, Thomas," she declared, much to his surprise. + +"It's pretty cold," said he. "Better stay where you are." + +"I thought I heard Uncle Joe moving about in the sitting-room quite a +while ago," she said. "Do you suppose he needed a hot-water bottle?" + +Mr. Bingle sighed. "If he did, you may be quite sure he would have got +the whole house up with his roars, Mary." + +"You will take cold, Thomas, standing around without your--" + +"I'll just run in and see if Uncle Joe needs anything," he interrupted, +a note of anxiety in his voice. Pausing at the bedroom door, with his +hand on the knob, he turned toward her with a merry grin on his +deeply-seamed face. His sparse hair was as tousled and his eyes as full +of mischief as any child's. "Maybe it was old Santa you heard out +there, Mary--filling the stockings." + +She was too matter-of-fact for anything like that. "If you knew what +was good for you, Tom Bingle, you'd fill that pair of stockings lying +at the foot of the bed instead of running around in your bare feet," +she said, pulling the covers up about her chin. "I think I'll have my +breakfast in bed, after all." + +"That's right," said he, and hurried nimbly out of the room so that she +would not hear the chattering of his teeth. Mrs. Single was enjoying +the paroxysm of a luxurious, comfortable yawn when she heard a shout of +alarm from the sitting-room. She sat straight up in bed. + +"Mary! Oh, my goodness! I say, Melissa!" + +Then came the pattering of Mr. Bingle's feet across the floor, followed +by the intrusion of an excited face through the half-open door. + +"Wha--what IS the matter?" she quavered. + +"He--he's gone!" + +"Dead?" she shrieked. + +"No! Gone, I said--left the house. Out in the cold. Freezing. Wandering +about in the streets--" + +"In--in his night clothes?" gasped his wife. "Don't tell me he has gone +into the street without--" + +"Get up!" cried Mr. Bingle, making a dash for his own garments. "We +must do something. Let me think--give me time. Now what is the first +thing to do? Notify the police or--" + +"IS HE DRESSED?" she demanded. + +"Of course," he replied. "At least he took his clothes with him. +They're not in his bedroom." + +"Well, ask the elevator boy. He'll know when he went out. Hurry up, +Thomas. Don't stop to put on a collar. Do hurry--" + +"I'm not putting on a collar," came in smothered tones. "I'm putting on +a shirt." + +He didn't quite have it on when Melissa appeared in the doorway, +wide-eyed and excited. + +"Uncle Joe has disappeared, ma'am," she chattered. "I can't find hide +or hair of him. Did you call, Mr. Bingle, or was it--" + +"I called," said Mr. Bingle, getting behind the foot-board of the bed. +"Where is he? Did you--" + +"I heard him moving about the kitchen about six or half-past. I peeked +out of my door, and there he was, all dressed, putting the coffee pot +on the stove. I says to him: 'What are you doing there?' and he says: +'I'm getting breakfast, you lazy lummix,' and I says: 'Well, get it, +you old bear, 'cause I won't, you can bet on that,'--and went back to +bed. Oh, goodness--goodness! I wouldn't ha' said that to him if I'd +knowed he--" + +"Don't blubber, Melissa," cried Mrs. Bingle. "Ask the elevator boy what +time it was when--" + +"Hand me my trousers, Mary," shivered Mr. Bingle, "or send Melissa out +of the room. I can't--" + +"He made himself some coffee and--" + +"Call the elevator boy, as I tell you--No, wait! Dress yourself first, +you silly thing," commanded Mrs. Bingle, and Melissa fled. + +The old man was gone, there could be no doubt about that. +Investigations proved that he had left the building at precisely +sixteen minutes of seven, the janitor declaring that he had looked at +his watch the instant the old man appeared on the sidewalk where he was +shovelling away the snow. He admitted that nothing short of a miracle +could have caused him to go to the trouble of getting out his watch on +a morning as cold as this one happened to be, and so he regarded old +Mr. Hooper's exit as a most astonishing occurrence. Further +investigation showed that he had walked down the six tortuous flights +of stairs instead of ringing for the elevator, and that he was clad in +Mr. Bingle's best overcoat, an ulster of five winters, to say nothing +of his arctics, gloves and muffler. + +No one, not even Mr. Bingle, could deny that it was a very shabby thing +to do on a Christmas morning, and for once the gentle bookkeeper lost +faith in his fellow-man. In all probability he would have excused Uncle +Joe's early morning stroll in garments that did not belong to him had +it not been for the fact that the old gentleman also took away with him +all of his own scanty belongings neatly wrapped in the morning +newspaper, an almost priceless breakfast possession from Mr. Bingle's +way of looking at it. + +At first Mrs. Bingle insisted on having the police notified. It was so +evident that Uncle Joe had departed without even contemplating an early +return that she couldn't see why her husband shouldn't at least recover +what belonged to him before the old ingrate could get to a pawn-shop, +notwithstanding the family shame that would attend an actual arrest. + +"He is an old scamp, Tom, and I don't see why you should put up with +the scurvy trick he has played on you," she protested, almost in tears. +"After all we've done for him, it really seems--" + +"I swear to goodness, Mary, I believe I'd do it if--if it wasn't +Christmas," groaned Mr. Bingle, who sat dejectedly over the fire, his +hands jammed deep into his pockets, his chin on his breast. "But +really, my dear, I--I can't--I just can't set the police after him on +Christmas Day. Besides, he may come back of his own accord." + +"He can't go very far on what he will get for your overcoat," she said +ironically. "He'll be back, never fear, when he gets good and hungry, +and he'll not bring your overcoat with him, either." + +"My dear, whatever else Uncle Joe may have been, he is not a thief," +said Mr. Bingle stiffly. + +"How do you know?" she demanded. "He may have been in the penitentiary, +for all we know about him. At any rate, he HAS stolen your overcoat, +and your rubbers, and--and--" + +"My ear-muffs," supplied Mr. Bingle, seeing that she was taxing her +memory. + +"I suppose you regard all that as the act of an honest man," she said +irritably. "I DO wish, Tom Bingle, that you had a little more backbone +when it comes to--" + +"Tut, tut!" interposed Mr. Bingle, uncomfortably. He resented her +occasional references to his backbone, or rather to the lack of it. + +"--being put upon," she concluded. "Oh, just to think of the old scamp +doing this to you on Christmas Day!" she wailed. "No wonder his +children despise him." + +"Well, we'll see what--" he began and then cleared his throat in some +confusion. His wife's appraising eye was upon him. + +"What are we going to see?" she inquired, after a moment. + +"We'll see what turns up," said he, somewhat defiantly, "I don't +believe in condemning a man unheard. I have a feeling that he--" + +"What do you expect to wear when you go down to the bank in the +morning?" she demanded, still eyeing him severely. "Your spring +overcoat? People will think you're crazy. It's below zero." + +"Oh, I'll get along all right," said he stoutly. "Don't you worry about +me, Mary. By hokey, I wish he'd come back this afternoon, just to prove +to you that it isn't safe to form an opinion without--" + +"There you go, Tom Bingle, wishing as you always do that somebody would +do something good just to show me that no one ever does anything bad. +You dear old goose! Only the meanest man in the world could have the +heart to rob you. That's what Uncle Joe is, my dear--the meanest man in +the world." + +Mr. Bingle sighed. He was in no position to argue the point. Uncle Joe +had not left him very much to stand upon in the shape of a theory. +There was nothing to do but to concede her the sigh of admission. + +"It's possible," he said hopefully, "that the poor old man is--is out +of his head. Let us hope so, at any rate." And with this somewhat +doubtful sop to the family honour, he lapsed into the silence of one +who realizes that he has uttered a foolish remark and shrinks from the +consequences. + +Mrs. Bingle said "Humph," and no more, but there is no word in any +vocabulary that represents as much in the way of sustained argument as +that homely, unspellable ejaculation. + +Mr. Hooper DID return, but not until the Saturday following Christmas +Day. He justified Mr. Bingle's faith in mankind to some extent by +restoring the overcoat and the arctics, but failed to bring back the +ear-muffs and the newspaper. He also failed to account for his own +scanty belongings which he had taken away from the flat wrapped up in +the newspaper. As a matter of fact, he did not feel called upon to +account for anything that had transpired since a quarter before seven +on Christmas morning. He merely walked in upon Mrs. Bingle at noon and +told her to send for Dr. Fiddler at once. Then he got into bed and +shivered so violently that the poor lady quite forgot her intention to +berate him for all the worry and trouble he had caused. She proceeded +at once to dose him with quinine, hot whisky and other notable remedies +while Melissa telephoned for the doctor and Mr. Bingle. + +"Don't you think I'd better send for Dr. Smith, on the first floor, +Uncle Joe?" said Mrs. Bingle nervously. + +"I want Dr. Fiddler," growled the old man. "I won't have anybody else, +Mary. He's the only doctor in New York. Well, why are you standing +there like a fence-post? Can't you see I'm sick? Can't you see I need a +doctor? Can't--" + +"I only thought that perhaps Dr. Smith could do something to relieve +you before Dr. Fiddler arrives. You should not forget that Dr. Fiddler +is a great man and a--a busy one. He may not be able to come at once, +and in that case--" + +"He'll come the minute you send for him," argued the sick man. "Didn't +he say he would? Do you want me to die like a dog? Where's Tom?" + +"He is at the bank, Uncle Joe," said Mrs. Bingle patiently. "Now, try +to be quiet, we'll have the doctor here as quickly as possible." + +"I don't want any of your half-grown doctors, Mary, understand that. I +want a real one. I'm a mighty sick man, and--" + +"You'll be all right in a day or two, Uncle Joe," said she soothingly. +"Don't worry, you poor old dear. Drink this." + +"What is it?" + +"Never mind. It's good for you. Take it right down." + +Uncle Joe surprised himself by swallowing the hot drink without further +remonstrance. His own docility convinced him beyond all doubt that he +was a very sick man. + +"Send for Tom," he sputtered. "Send for him at once. He ought to be +here. I am his uncle--his only uncle, and he--" + +"Now, do be quiet, Uncle Joe. Tom will be here before long. It's +Saturday, you know--a half holiday at the bank." + +She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his hot +forehead. For a short time he growled about the delay in getting the +doctor to the apartment; then he became quietly watchful. His gaze +settled upon the comely, troubled face of Tom Bingle's wife and, as he +looked, his fierce old eyes softened. + +"Mary," he said at last, and his voice was gentle, almost plaintive; +"you are a real angel. I just want you to know that I love you and Tom, +and I want you to tell me now that you forgive me for--for--" + +"Sh! See if you can't go to sleep, Uncle Joe." + +"I'd just like to hear you say that you don't hate me, Mary." + +"Of course, I don't hate you. How can you ask such a question?" + +"I've been a dreadful--" + +"Hush, now. Here's Melissa. Did you get Dr. Fiddler, Melissa?" + +"Yes, ma'am," said the little maid-of-all-work, appearing in the +doorway with a couple of blankets that she had been warming behind the +kitchen range. "He's coming at once, ma'am, and--" her eyes were +expressive of an immense pity for her mistress--"he says he's prepared +to stay all night if necessary, and he's sent for TWO nurses, night and +day. Besides all that, his assistant is coming with him." + +"That's the kind of a doctor to have," said Uncle Joe, with a vast +satisfaction. "None of your cheap, dollar-a-visit incompetents for me, +Mary. If a man's life is worth anything at all, it's worth more than a +couple of one dollar visits from these--What's the matter with you, +Melissa? Don't glare at me like that. Haven't I the right to live? +Can't I ask for a doctor--a mere doctor--without being--" + +"Oh, I ain't begrudgin' you a doctor, Uncle Joe," said Melissa shortly. +"It's none of my business. You can have all the doctors in New York if +you want 'em." + +"I don't want 'em, confound you," exclaimed Uncle Joe. "I only want a +fighting chance, that's all. I--" + +"Nobody's fighting you, is they?" demanded Melissa, whipping a blanket +across the bed with more energy than seemed necessary. She began +tucking in the edges. "I guess we've always been pretty nice to you, +Uncle Joe--every one of us--and I guess we'll keep on being nice to +you, so don't growl." + +"That's right, Melissa," said the sick man humbly. "You've been a +jewel, my girl. I--I shall never forget you." + +"I'm a soft-hearted fool or I'd ha'--" began Melissa, somewhat +ominously, but checked herself after a quick glance at her mistress's +face. "Try to go to sleep, Uncle Joe," she substituted. "I'll have some +toast and tea for you when you wake up. You--you look as if you hadn't +eat anything since you left, you poor old thing." + +"I hope Tom didn't need his overcoat while I was away, Mary," said +Uncle Joe, abruptly changing the topic of conversation. + +[Illustration with caption: "That's the kind of a doctor to have," said +Uncle Joe] + +"He has another coat," said Mrs. Bingle, evasively. "When you feel +better you must tell us what you have been doing for the past--" + +"I'm not going to feel any better," said Uncle Joe, quite cheerfully. +"I may hang on for a long time but I'm not going to be any better. This +is the finish for me, Mary. And I'd like you to know that I didn't come +back here to die on your hands without first giving my children a +chance to take me in. I--I tried them once more." + +"You--you went to them again?" she cried. Melissa laid the second +blanket across the bed more gently than the first. + +"Yes," said Mr. Hooper, his thick eyebrows meeting in a scowl of anger. +"Yes, I talked with all three of them this morning before I came here. +I told them that I was sick and--and--" He choked up suddenly as Mrs. +Bingle began to pat his lean old knuckles with her soft, warm hand. + +"I wouldn't talk about it if I were you, Uncle Joe." + +"But I--I want to talk about it," he said, with an effort. "First I +wrote a nice, kind letter to each one of them. Then I called them up on +the telephone and told them all how sick I was, that I couldn't last +much longer, that I didn't want to die in the street, or a charity +hospital, or--the police station. That confounded Christmas Carol of +yours made me relent. I read the thing the other night after you went +to bed. They all asked me where I was and said they would send an +ambulance to take me to Bellevue, and that was the best they could do +for me. After the holidays, when they had a little more time, they +might possibly send me to a sanitarium if I--if I showed any signs of +improvement. That was all there was to it, Mary. I told them--each one +of 'em--that I washed my hands of them, and they could all go to the +devil. They won't do it, of course. People like that never go to the +devil for the simple reason that the devil hasn't anything to offer +them that they don't already possess. And so, Mary, I came back here to +see if you'd take me in. You and Tom have been my best, my only real +friends, and I--I thought you'd give me another chance. If you feel +even now that I am going to be too much bother and expense, I'll get +out. I'll go to a hospital and--" + +"Not another word, Uncle Joe," said Mary Bingle, and she kissed his +grim old cheek. "Not another word." + +"Thank you, Mary, thank you for that. I--I was just wondering whether +you could stand all of the expense and--" + +Melissa broke in sharply: "Of course, we can. My wages can go over +till--" + +"And you will not turn me out?" whispered Uncle Joe, his eyes shining. + +"Never!" said Mrs. Bingle. + +"Never!" said the maid-of-all-work. + +Mr. Hooper turned over on his side and was strangely quiet after that. +His nephew came home at three and found himself confronted by two +nurses, two doctors and a cabman who was waiting in the hallway for his +fare. It seemed that Uncle Joe had driven home in a cab, and being +somewhat uncertain as to the duration of his stay in the apartment of +his nephew, instructed the fellow to wait, which the fellow did for a +matter of more than three hours and was prepared to wait a good while +longer unless he got his pay. Uncle Joe's forgetfulness cost Mr. Bingle +six dollars and fifty cents, and he entered the sitting-room with a +heart doubly sore. Of one thing he was uncomfortably certain: the +nurses would cost fifty dollars a week and they would have to be paid +on the dot. They were not like doctors, who could afford to wait. They +were working for a living. + +Mr. Bingle's salary at the bank was one hundred dollars a month. He was +an expert accountant, but it did not require the intelligence of an +expert to do the "sum" that presented itself for his hasty +consideration. His small, jealously guarded account in the savings bank +would be wiped out like a flash. And yet he entered the sick-room with +a cheerful countenance and an unfaltering faith in the fitness of all +things. He greeted his repentant Sindbad with such profound gladness +and relief that one might well have believed him to be happy in having +the burden restored to his frail shoulders. + +"Well, well, here you are!" he cried, rubbing his cold hands vigorously +before offering to grasp the bony old fingers that were extended to +him. "Glad to see you back, Uncle Joe. Comfortable? Well, well, how are +you?" He shook his uncle's hand warmly. "Sorry to see you laid up +again, sir, but we'll have you as good as new in no time. Eh, doctor? +As good as new, eh?" + +Uncle Joe had nothing to say. He clung to his nephew's hand and smiled +faintly. + +Mr. Bingle looked puzzled. This was not like the Uncle Joe he had +known. He sent a questioning glance toward the sober-faced doctor, and +then sat down beside the bed, very much shaken by the news that came to +him in the significant shake of Dr. Fiddler's head. + +After many minutes had passed, Uncle Joe began to speak to his nephew. +His voice was weak and the words came haltingly. + +"Tom, you are a good boy--as good as gold. No, that isn't fair to you. +You're better than gold. I honestly believe you like me, wretched and +troublesome as I am. Your mother loved me, Tom. No one ever had a +sister who loved a brother more than she loved me. Thank God, she died +long before I came to this dreadful pass. She was spared seeing me as I +am now. Well, I want to ask a last favour of you, nephew. I want you to +see that I am buried beside your mother up at Syracuse. Just have a +simple funeral, my boy. No fuss, no flowers, no singing. Then take me +up to the old burying ground and--and I won't bother any one after +that. I suppose it will cost you something to do it, but--but if you +knew how much it will mean to me now if I have your promise to--" + +"Sh!" whispered Mr. Bingle. "Don't talk of dying, Uncle Joe. Don't +speak of graveyards while--" + +"Will you promise? That's the question," said Uncle Joe stubbornly. + +"Yes," said Mr. Bingle painfully; "when the time comes I'll lay you +beside my mother. Don't worry about it, Uncle Joe." + +"I hate to put you to the expense of--" + +"Pooh!" said Mr. Bingle, as if the cost of the thing was the merest +trifle to him. + +"If I were to live for a thousand years, Tom, I could never find the +means to adequately compensate you and Mary for the joy and comfort you +have given me at so great a cost to yourselves. By dying, I may be able +to make your load lighter, so I am going to die as quickly as the +doctor will allow me to do so." + +He died at nine o'clock that night. The next day Mr. Bingle notified +his three children that he was taking their father to Syracuse for +burial, and that if they chose to do so they could come to the +apartment late that afternoon for the brief funeral service. Geoffrey, +speaking for his sisters as well as for himself, expressed regret that +poor Tom had been saddled with certain annoyances and inconvenience in +connection with the late Joseph Hooper, and that they, as a family, +would be pleased to assume the cost of his funeral, provided Tom would +present an itemized statement on his return from Syracuse, covering all +legitimate expenses not only in connection with the funeral but also +anything that may have arisen during his most recent illness. + +And Mr. Bingle, without consulting his wife, informed Geoffrey that he +was quite able to meet all of the expenses without aid from "the +family" and that he preferred to have nothing more said about the +matter. Whereupon Geoffrey told him to go ahead and do as he pleased +about it, and hung up the telephone receiver. + +Greatly to the amazement and relief of the Bingles, Dr. Fiddler +insisted on paying all of the funeral expenses, including the railroad +fare of the two mourners to and from Syracuse. Moreover, he calmly +announced that he would not accept a penny from Mr. Bingle for services +rendered the sick man. + +"Mary," said Mr. Bingle, on the way back to New York after the +interment in Syracuse, "if everybody in this world was as good as Dr. +Fiddler, what a happy place it would be. Just think of it! He gave all +of his time, all of his experience--everything--and now refuses to take +a cent from me. It isn't everybody who is as easy on the poor as that +man is, my dear. He is a--a real nobleman." + +Mrs. Bingle had been thinking too. "Well, I dare say he makes up for it +by being a little harder on the rich every time he finds it necessary +to be easy on the poor," she said cryptically. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing," she said, ashamed of her estimate of the good doctor. "I +shouldn't have said that." + +"I insist on an explanation." + +"Well, if you must have it, I'll bet he gets even somehow. I'd hate to +be his next patient if I was rich enough to call him in to attend me." + +"I am surprised at you, Mary," said Mr. Bingle, and his expression +convinced her that he really was. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FORTY MINUTES LATE + + +Mr. Bingle was late at the bank the morning after their return from the +North. Not in all the years of his connection with the institution had +such a thing happened to him--or to the bank, for that matter. He made +it a point to be punctual. In his opinion, a man was taking something +that did not belong to him when he failed his employer in the matter of +promptness. Working AFTER hours to make up the lost time was, in his +estimation, a rather cowardly form of penance; it was simply a +confession that the delinquent had robbed his master of a certain +number of fresh minutes earlier in the day, and was trying to restore +them at the end of the day, when he was in no condition to give as good +as he had taken. + +One could set his watch by Thomas Bingle. All of the clocks, and all of +the watches, and all of the clerks in the bank might be late, but NEVER +Thomas Bingle. He kept absolutely perfect time, year in and year out. +And so, when he came dashing into the bank on this particular morning +nearly forty minutes late, every man in the long counting-room jerked +out his watch and glanced at its face with an expression of alarm in +his eyes, absolutely convinced that he had made the heart-breaking +mistake of getting down to work forty minutes too soon. Such a thing as +Mr. Bingle getting down forty minutes too late was infinitely more +improbable than that all the rest of them should have reported that +much too early. + +The tardy one was conscious of the concentrated stare of sixty eyes as +he slid onto the stool in front of his desk and began to fumble with +the pens and blotters. The man at his left elbow said "well, well!" and +the man at his right elbow said "st! st! st!" with his tongue in a most +reproachful manner. They could understand Mr. Bingle's absence for +three whole days, having got wind of a death in the family, but, for +the life of them, they couldn't see what he meant by spoiling a +perfectly clean record for punctuality when he might have remained away +for the entire day, just as well as not, instead of upsetting a +hallowed tradition in the bank by coming in forty minutes late. + +Moreover, Mr. Bingle was confident that all of the high officials in +the bank, from the president down to the seventh assistant cashier, had +noticed his tremendous shortcoming, and that they were even now +whispering among themselves that he ought to be discharged forthwith. +He could feel people glaring at him from behind; he could feel the +president's eyes, and the four vice-presidents' eyes, and the chairman +of the board's eyes and all of the directors' eyes boring holes through +the partitions to fix their accusing gaze upon him as he bent nervously +over the huge ledger and tried to shrink into invisibility. He had +committed a heinous, inexcusable, unpardonable offence. He would have +to pay the penalty. After all these years of faithful service, he would +be kicked out in disgrace; some one else would be sitting in his place +after luncheon and some one else would be hanging his coat and hat in +the locker he had used for fifteen years without--His eyes grew misty +as he bent a little closer to the page and tried to focus his thoughts +on what was actually before him. + +What difference would it make to these heartless plutocrats and +overlords when he told them that his wife was ill and that he could not +leave his home until the doctor had come to reassure him? What did they +know about connubial happiness and connubial obligations? They would +stare at him coldly--or perhaps laugh in his face--and say that the +fate of a great banking institution could not be put in jeopardy just +because Mrs. Bingle happened to be critically ill. Mr. Bingle, for the +first time in his life, began to appreciate his own importance. He +began to realise that in all likelihood the bank would go to pieces as +the result of his failure to appear at his desk at the appointed +minute. He recalled having seen the first vice-president and the +cashier in close conversation as he slunk through the little passage +behind the latter's office, and he remembered also with sickening +clearness that they stopped talking and stared at him as he hurried by. +And, now that he thought of it, the first vice-president had smiled +pleasantly and had said something that sounded like "good morning, Mr. +Bingle," although it certainly couldn't have been that. It was regarded +as especially ominous when an official of the bank said good-morning to +a clerk or a bookkeeper. It meant, according to tradition, that his +days were numbered. It was a sort of preliminary sentence. Later on, +there would come a summons to appear at the "office." + +Mr. Bingle sat on his stool, his feet hooked rigidly in the stretchers +as if prepared to resist any effort to yank him out of the place he had +held for fifteen years, and all the while he was listening for the +voice of the messenger at his shoulder, ordering him to step into Mr. +Force's room. + +The trip to Syracuse had been too much for Mrs. Bingle. The railway +coaches were cold; she shivered nearly all the way up and all the way +back, notwithstanding Melissa's furs and the extra suit of flannels she +had donned at Mr. Bingle's suggestion. She came home with a frightful +cold and a temperature that frightened her husband almost out of his +boots. + +She was not in the habit of taking long journeys by train. As a matter +of fact, she had never been farther away from Manhattan Island than +Hartford, Connecticut, and that experience befell her in the middle of +an extremely torrid June. Perhaps a half-dozen times in the fifteen +years of her married life she had gone to Peekskill to visit her mother +and a married sister, but always in warm weather. Not that she was too +poor to make the trip to Peekskill as often as she liked, but her +mother and sister made it unnecessary by coming to New York for +frequent and sometimes protracted visits at the Bingle apartment, and +usually without first inquiring whether it would be convenient or +otherwise. She very sensibly realised that Mr. Bingle saw quite enough +of his wife's relatives in this way, and refused to drag him into the +country to see more of them. He had better use for his Sundays, and as +for his vacations, they were always spent at home in the laudable +effort to save a little money against the rainy day that people are +always talking about. So Mrs. Bingle stayed at home, and contrived to +love her good little husband more and more as each narrow day went by, +winter and summer, year in and year out, and not once did the iron of +discontent enter her soul. Some day, when they could really afford it, +they were going away for a month's fishing-trip in the wilds of Maine, +but all that could wait. It was something to look forward to, and there +is a lot in that. + +Neither of them had ever dreamed that Syracuse was so near to the North +Pole, nor had they the remotest idea that the weather could be so cold +anywhere on earth as it was in the upper part of New York State. The +coldest days they had ever known in New York City--and they had always +believed that nothing could be colder--were balmy when compared with +that awful day on the outskirts of Syracuse--that bleak, blighting day +in the wind-swept graveyard where the mother of Thomas Bingle slept. + +They fairly shrivelled in their skins as they stood beside the open +grave and saw, through blurred eyes, the last of Uncle Joe. Both of Mr. +Bingle's ears were frozen quite stiff. A much be-furred undertaker's +assistant rubbed snow on them with what seemed to be unnecessary vigour +and told him to have 'em looked after when he got back to New York. +They were ugly things, those ears of his, and Mr. Bingle was acutely +conscious of their size and colour as he sat at his desk and waited for +word to come to "the office." A sudden and almost insupportable itching +of his heels filled him with fresh alarm, and for one ghastly moment he +forgot his ears and his crime. Were his heels frost-bitten? If +so--then, what was to become of him? + +"Get your uncle buried all right?" inquired his left-hand neighbour, +suddenly speaking out of the void. Mr. Bingle's reply was a guilty, +bewildered start. The man went on: "What did he die of?" + +"Oh," said Mr. Bingle hazily, "most assuredly." + +"I said, what ailed him?" + +"Why, he was dead," said Mr. Bingle, vaguely surprised by the other's +obtuseness. "That's why we buried him." + +"I see," said the questioner, after staring hard for a moment. He edged +a little farther away from Mr. Bingle and shot a swift glance of +apprehension in the direction of the door. + +"I couldn't help being late," ventured Mr. Bingle, his first apology in +fifteen years. "My wife is sick, Jenkins--mighty sick. The doctor +couldn't come at once, so I had to wait. She--" + +"Say," said Jenkins nervously, "the old man didn't die of anything +catching, did he?" + +"Catching?" + +"I mean contagious. Your wife hasn't caught anything from him, has she? +If she has, you oughtn't to come around here carrying--" + +"He died of old age," said Mr. Single stiffly. + +"Sure?" + +"Of course." + +"Well, we all catch that if we live long enough," said Jenkins, +considerably relieved. "How old was he?" + +"Seventy-three." + +"Leave anything?" + +Mr. Bingle was suddenly bereft of all power of speech. Three men were +standing just outside the long bronze caging that enclosed the +bookkeeping-department, and they were looking at him with a directness +that was even more pronounced than the stare of utter dismay with which +he favoured them. There could be no mistake: they were discussing +him--Thomas Bingle! And they were discussing him with unquestionable +seriousness. His heart flopped down to his heels and his poor ears +burned with a fierceness that caused him to fear that they were on the +point of bursting into flames. The first vice-president was pointing +him out to the president, there could be no doubt about that; and the +pompous president was bobbing his head in a most extraordinary manner, +there could be no doubt about that either. The third man of the trio +was the chief watchman, and he was looking at Mr. Bingle as a cat looks +at a captured mouse. It was all over! They were about to arrest him for +embezzlement or murder or something equally as heinous. Mr. Bingle +turned colder than he had been at any time during his stay in the +ice-bound city of Syracuse. + +Then the trio abruptly turned away and left him sitting there, frozen +to the marrow. He tried to swallow, but his throat was paralysed. + +"Gee, that looks bad, Bingle," whispered Jenkins, pityingly. "That was +the old man. What--what the dickens have you been up to?" + +Mr. Bingle's stiff lips moved but no sound came forth. He was to be +discharged! In fifteen years he had been late at his desk but once, and +he was to be discharged! What would Mary say? What would become of +Mary? What would become of Melissa, now that they couldn't afford to +keep a servant? + +"You been here longer than any one, too," went on Jenkins. "How long +has it been, Bingle?" + +"Fifteen years," gulped Mr. Bingle, in a strange, unnatural voice. + +"That's longer than the old man himself," said Jenkins. "He's been +president less'n twelve years. Say, Bingle, I'm all broke up over it. +I--I hope it ain't as bad as we think. Maybe--oh, I say, it's your +EARS! That's what it is. Mr. Force was showing him your ears. And say, +take it from me, Bingle, they're worth going a long way to see, too. +Good Lord, what a relief!" Mr. Bingle actually took hope. Could it be +possible? Were frozen ears so rare a sight that the president of a +great bank--But even as he grasped at the straw he became convinced +that it was very likely to prove his salvation, for, to his amazement +and confusion, the cashier and the fourth vice-president strolled up to +the caging and regarded him with the gravest interest. He bent his head +to the task before him, hoping against hope that it WAS his ears and +not his tardiness. And, when he looked up again many minutes afterward, +other officials of the bank were looking at him from various points of +vantage, and all of them were staring with the most amazing intentness, +quite as if they had never seen anything so strange as the man who had +sat unnoticed in this very spot for fifteen years and more. Messengers +took a peep at him as they circled from window to window; patrons of +the bank sauntered past and squinted vaguely in his direction. + +Vice-president Force came back a second time and actually pointed him +out to an utter stranger, at the same time waving his hand at Mr. +Bingle in a most friendly and engaging manner! + +The poor bookkeeper reeled on his stool. He laid his pen down, removed +the green shade from over his eyes, placed his blotters neatly in the +rack, and turning to Jenkins, said: + +"I can't stand it, Jenkins. I've--I've just got to know the worst. I'm +going to the office." + +"With--without being sent for?" gasped Jenkins. + +"There's no use putting it off. I--" + +A dapper little page appeared at Mr. Bingle's elbow, interrupting him +with the curt remark that Mr. Force wanted to see him when it was +convenient. + +"Convenient?" murmured Mr. Bingle, his eyes bulging. + +"Well, great--" began Jenkins. + +"That's what he said: convenient," said the page loftily. "Gee, where +did you get them ears?" + +Mr. Bingle got down from his stool slowly, painfully. + +"I guess I'll go now," he said. "It's just as convenient for me to get +out now as--" + +"I can't understand that 'convenient' business," broke in Jenkins, +wrinkling his brow. "Well, good luck, Bingle. I'm sorry." + +Sixty wistful, sympathetic eyes followed Mr. Bingle as he made his way +out to the passage. The word had gone 'round that "old Bingy" was to +get the sack, and every one was saying to himself that if they +discharged a man like Bingle for being late it wouldn't be safe for any +one to transgress for even the tiniest fraction of an instant. + +Half-way down the narrow aisle leading to the offices, Mr. Bingle +stopped to wipe his brow and to pull himself together for the coming +ordeal. A high-and-mighty young man who had been elevated from a +clerkship to the post of third assistant foreign teller, and who no +longer deemed it proper to associate with his erstwhile companions in +the "galleys," emerged from his cage and, coming abruptly upon the +shivering bookkeeper, blinked uncertainly for a moment and then said in +what was unmistakably a polite and even respectful tone: + +"Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Pleasant day, sir, isn't it?" + +If Mr. Bingle had been in a condition to notice such things as +miracles, he might have been struck by this one, but he merely said it +WAS a pleasant day and resumed his way, utterly oblivious to the fact +that a human being had been completely transformed before his very +eyes. A few steps farther on he encountered an even mightier force than +the third assistant foreign teller: the bank detective. + +"Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Nice day, sir," said the bank detective, +somewhat eagerly, and stood aside to let the lowly bookkeeper pass +without being jostled--as was the custom. + +"Morning," said Mr. Bingle, still unimpressed. It seemed to him that +every one was evincing a singular interest in the fact that he was +about to be discharged on a pleasant day. + +Mr. Force was seated at his desk when Bingle entered the room and found +himself in the presence of the man who was certain to become president +when "the old man" died--an event that would have to occur if the first +vice-president's dream of elevation ever came true, for there wasn't +the remotest likelihood that he would have the sense of decency to +resign, no matter how old or how senile he became in the course of time. + +Now, Mr. Force took himself very seriously. Having married an +exceedingly wealthy woman after a career in which liveliness had meant +more to him than livelihood, he assumed that if he treated the world at +large with extreme aloofness it would soon forget--and overlook--the +fact that he had never amounted to a row of pins in the estimation of +those who knew him as a harvester in Broadway. Shortly before his +marriage--at forty-three--he abandoned an extensive crop of wild oats +in the very heart of New York City--announcing that he intended to +retire from active business and go to work. + +Going to work meant stepping into a bank as its third vice-president +the week after his return from a honeymoon spent with a bride who held, +in her own right, something over one-half of the entire capital stock +of the institution. Her wedding present to him was the third +vice-presidency and the everlasting enmity of every director and +official in the bank. He accepted both in the spirit in which they were +given. To the surprise of his enemies and the scorn of his friends, he +promptly settled down and made himself so valuable to the bank that +even his wife was vindicated. He managed in one way or another to +increase her holdings and soon was in a position to dictate to those +officially above him. He dictated so effectually in the case of the +first and second vice-president that they preferred to resign rather +than to continue the struggle to keep him in his place. Before he had +been in the bank a year, he was its first vice-president. + +It was generally conceded that the president himself would have been in +jeopardy but for the fact that he was the father of Mrs. Force and +therefore exempt. In order to clarify the situation, it is necessary to +state that the bride inherited her extensive holdings from a former +husband, who, it appears, died of old age when she was but twenty-six. +It would also appear that her father owed his position as president to +the influence of Mr. Force's predecessor, or rather to the influence +that his daughter exercised over an old gentleman in his dotage. Be +that as it may, the present chief executive of the bank was immune for +life. To quote the directorate, he couldn't be FORCED out of office. +His son-in-law would be obliged to wait. He could afford to wait. He +was forty-four. + +It has been said that Mr. Sydney Force was seated at his desk when +Thomas Bingle sidled into the luxurious office. It must now be added +that he did not retain his seat for more than a second after Mr. +Bingle's entrance. In fact, he fairly leaped to his feet, frightening +his visitor into a sudden, spasmodic movement of the hand in search of +the door-knob and a backward shuffle of both feet at once. The little +bookkeeper's alarm was groundless. Mr. Force came forward, beaming, his +hand extended. + +"How are you, Mr. Bingle? Come right in. Well, well, this is splendid. +Too good to be true, 'pon my word it is." He was wringing the little +man's hand violently. "I confess that I am surprised that you +considered it worth while to come down to the bank at all, sir." + +Mr. Bingle was batting his eyes furiously. He was also having a great +deal of difficulty with his knees. + +"I--I couldn't help it, Mr. Force," he stammered. "I really couldn't. +It is the first time in all the years of my connection with--" + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bingle," interrupted Mr. Force, with a somewhat +sweeping wave of the hand that took in practically all of the office +and yet no spot in particular; "this is Mr. Sigsbee." He then stood +aside and permitted Mr. Bingle to discover Mr. Sigsbee, who came +hastily out of the whirling background. + +"Glad to meet you, sir," said Mr. Sigsbee, giving Mr. Bingle's hand a +tremendous squeeze. "I should have known you, Mr. Bingle, anywhere on +earth from the description given to me." + +Description! Poor Bingle's blood congealed. Description? That dreadful +word could have but one application. It was never used except in +connection with people who were wanted for crime. The man was a +detective! + +"Sit down, Mr. Bingle," said Force, with shocking amiability. "Will you +smoke?" + +"No, thank you," said Mr. Bingle, doing his best to pull himself +together and failing completely. "As I was saying, Mr. Force, my wife--" + +At this juncture, the door to an adjoining room was thrown open and the +bank's president stood revealed. At his back was the chairman of the +board and also the cashier, while somewhat indistinctly associated with +the sombre elegance of the room beyond were the figures of a peeping +stenographer and an open-mouthed secretary whose neck was gallantly +stretched almost to the point of dislocation because he was too much of +a gentleman to push the little stenographer out of his line of vision. + +"Well, well, Bingle!" exclaimed the president, somewhat gustily as he +hastened forward. "How are you? That this should happen to you! It is +unbelievable!" He was pumping Mr. Bingle's arm. "I don't see how in the +world we are to get along without you. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself. Why don't you--" + +"Wha--what in the name of heaven am I accused of doing?" blurted out +Mr. Bingle abjectly. "This is some awful mistake. I--" + +"Accused of doing?" exclaimed Mr. Force, frowning perplexedly. + +"What say, Bingle?" inquired the president, who wasn't quite certain +that his hearing was what it used to be. "What say?" + +Mr. Sigsbee interposed, staring hard at the little man. "Haven't you +been notified of--Oh, I say, you have at least seen the morning papers?" + +"Have they printed anything about me?" gasped Mr. Bingle, sitting down +very suddenly. "It's a lie, gentlemen--a lie, I tell you! I haven't +done a thing--" + +"Do you mean to say--" began Mr. Force, glaring at the shivering little +man. + +"I'll bring an action against 'em," shouted Mr. Bingle from the depths +of the huge chair. "I'll sue 'em for all they're worth if they've--" + +"Haven't you seen the newspapers?" demanded Mr. Sigsbee, bending over +the occupant of the chair in what that individual mistook for a +menacing attitude. + +"I--I didn't have time to look at the paper," mumbled Mr. Bingle. "My +wife was so miserable that--" + +"Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Force, and then, to Bingle's +astonishment, the five other occupants of the room were overtaken by a +simultaneous impulse to shout at the top of their voices, all of them +crowding close about him and barking unintelligible exclamations into +his very teeth, so to speak. + +The strangest part of it all was that they were in high good humour and +laughed like maniacs. He hadn't the faintest notion what it was all +about, but he began to laugh shrilly. He couldn't help it. He certainly +didn't feel like laughing. The president was slapping Mr. Force on the +back and shouting things that fell upon deaf ears, for Mr. Force was +shouting manfully on his own account. The cashier stumbled over a chair +in trying to get at Mr. Bingle to grasp his hand, and the chairman of +the board began pounding the helpless bookkeeper on the shoulder with a +hand that had all of the weight and some of the resilience of a sledge +hammer. + +It was Mr. Sigsbee who finally settled down to a succinct, intelligent +question, and at once had Mr. Bingle's attention. + +"Didn't you receive my letter in the morning post?" he demanded. + +Mr. Bingle no doubt intended to repeat the word "letter," being vaguely +impressed by its significance, but what he uttered was a mystified, +syllable-less "le'r?" + +"I wrote to say that if it suited your convenience to come to our +offices this afternoon at three, I would see to it that the other heirs +were present, Mr. Bingle." + +"My wife's illness--" began Mr. Bingle hazily, and then brought himself +up with a jerk. Heirs? What in the world was the man talking about? +"I--I beg pardon, sir. I didn't quite catch that. What--" + +Mr. Sigsbee held up his hand, silencing him. Then he turned to the +other gentlemen and said in a strained, excited voice: + +"I suspect, gentlemen, that it would be better if I were to have a few +minutes alone with Mr. Bingle." + +"Right!" exclaimed Mr. Force, regarding the bookkeeper with what seemed +to be infinite compassion in his eyes. "Stay right where you are, +Sigsbee. We'll get out," and he literally shoved the others out of the +office, closing the president's door behind him. + +"Now, Mr. Bingle," said Sigsbee, drawing a chair up close to the little +man's knee, "I want the truth. Have you no--" + +"Before heaven, Mr. Sigsbee, I--I swear I am innocent of--" + +"Have you no inkling of what has befallen you?" concluded the other. + +"No, sir, I haven't," declared Mr. Bingle with conviction. + +"Well, my dear sir," said Sigsbee, laying his hand upon Bingle's knee +and speaking with grave impressiveness, "your late and lamented uncle, +Joseph Hooper, in his will, devises that you are his principal--I might +almost say, his sole heir. He has left practically everything to you, +sir. I--I pray you, be calm. Do not allow this astonishing, this +prodigious--" + +"Oh," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, with a huge sigh of relief and a sudden +relaxing of all his taut nerves, "I know all about THAT, Mr. Sigsbee. +Is that all?" + +"All?" with a stare of amazement. + +"We often joked about it, poor old Uncle Joe and I. He seemed to enjoy +a chuckle once in awhile, in spite of the way the world had used him." + +"I now realise that you are quite ignorant about the whole matter, Mr. +Bingle. My letter would have enlightened you, of course, but as you did +not receive it, I fear that--" + +"I didn't open my letters this morning. Quite forgot 'em, sir. You see, +Mrs. Bingle came down with a fearful--" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Sigsbee. "Perhaps it would be well for me +to describe myself a little more clearly to you, Mr. Bingle. I am of +the firm of Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim, lawyers. We have been acting +for Mr. Hooper for the past six months, or, in other words, since his +return to New York City. Our relations were or a--er--a somewhat Secret +nature, I may say. He made the somewhat Extraordinary demand upon us, +at the time we were Retained, that we should conduct his affairs with +the Utmost secrecy. Especially, ser, were we required to Keep you in +the dark as to the real--" + +"Just a moment, sir," interrupted Mr. Bingle, sitting up very straight, +and staring. "May I ask one questions? Are you sure you haven't got my +Uncle Joe confused with another Joseph Hooper? To my certain knowledge, +he had no transactions with lawyers while staying at my house. You've +got the wrong man, sir, I--" "I've got the right man, Mr. Bingle," said +the lawyer, with a smile. "Your uncle was a strange man. Have you never +heard of Joseph H. Grimwell?" + +"Certainly. Every one has heard of him." + +"Well, your uncle was Joseph H. Grimwell, the millionaire mine-owner +and lumber king. For fifteen years the name of Joseph Grimwell took the +place of--I beg your pardon! I did not mean to put it so abruptly, sir. +Calm yourself! I--" + +"All right," said Mr. Bingle, suddenly collapsing into the chair after +struggling to his feet, his eyes bulging. "All right. I'm--I'm calm. Go +on with the story. You can't expect me to believe it, however. How on +earth could poor old Uncle Joe Hooper, who was actually starving when +he came to me last--" + +"That is the best part of the story, Mr. Bingle," said Sigsbee, +settling back in his chair and linking his plump hands benevolently +across his expansive and somewhat overhanging waistcoat. "That is the +best part of the story, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STORY OF JOSEPH + + +Mr. Bingle went home in a taxi-cab, completely done up. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +Back in 1885, Joseph Hooper, disgraced, disowned by his family and as +poor Job's turkey, made a brief but sufficiently explicit will in which +he named his beloved nephew Thomas Singleton Bingle as his sole heir. +He drew it up on the surface of a fresh, unused postal card, and had it +properly witnessed by the bailiff who came to Bingle's apartment to +demand his appearance before a court to show cause why he should not +consider himself in contempt for having disregarded the order to pay +monthly sums in the shape of alimony to his late but unlamented wife. + +In looking about for the second witness, he observed a levying deputy +sheriff in the act of carrying off his last and only possession of +value, to wit: a gold-headed cane that had been left to him by his +father. With a fine sense of irony, he persuaded the aforesaid deputy +sheriff to affix his signature to the will, and then remarked with deep +sarcasm that he had "put his house in order" so far as it was in his +power to do so. Inasmuch as the deputy sheriff was making way with what +looked to be his entire estate, saving the clothes upon his back and +the post-card (which he had taken the precaution to address to his +lawyers, thereby securing its protection by the United States +Government), Mr. Hooper's last will and testament as uttered on the +16th day of October, 1885, was necessarily brief and succinct. It +merely said: + +"I hereby revoke any former will I may have made prior to this date, +and now bequeath to my beloved nephew, Thomas Singleton Bingle, my +entire fortune, which at this time appears to be not my face but my +figure. I therefore bequeath to him my physical person, and vest in him +the right to chuck it into the river, or to dispose of it for medical +purposes, as he may see fit, provided however that I shall first have +been declared sufficiently dead by competent judges. I also bequeath to +him any property, great or small, that may be in my possession at the +time of my demise, even though it be no more than the collar-button +with which he so kindly supplied me this morning, and which I shall +always retain as a mark of his devotion, knowing well what it means for +a man to deprive himself of a cherished belonging." + +This was written in a very fine, cramped hand, and there was ample room +at the bottom for his own signature and those of the witnesses, +although it must be said that the elegant symmetry of the document was +destroyed by the bulging scrawl of the bailiff, whose name was Abraham +Kosziemanowski and who had to turn the final two syllables down at a +sharp angle in order to get the whole of his signature on the card. + +Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim, on the receipt of this jocose instrument, +immediately communicated with their once magnificent client, who +laconically instructed them to put it away in a very safe place as it +might come in handy some time. To their own and to his subsequent +surprise, they DID put it away in a safe place, but forgot all about it +until he walked in upon them fifteen years afterwards and revealed +himself as the great and only Joseph H. Grimwell. + +Having once disinherited his children, he was then in the mood to +reconsider his act, being alive to the fact that his days were +numbered. But he went about the business with the sagacity of an old +dog who has been kicked hard by some one who was not his master. +Instead of proclaiming himself to be the Midas-like Joseph Grimwell, he +appeared before his son and daughters, as poor old Joseph Hooper, their +long lost father, as poor--nay, even poorer than when he went away, for +he had lost the rugged health that was his only possession at the +beginning of his vicissitudes. + +Assuming a condition of abject, though genteel poverty, he went to each +of them in turn. He wanted to give them a chance to reconsider, as he +had done. But they would have none of him! Vastly dismayed by the +failure of his nice little scheme to trick them into filial +responsibility, he was on the point of shouting his denunciations from +the house-tops when he suddenly remembered Tom Bingle: he wondered if +Tom would receive him--an old derelict--with open arms. + +He presented himself, with his battered valise, at the door of Thomas +Bingle's apartment--and was given a warm, even hearty reception! + +And it was on that day--at that very hour, so to speak--that Thomas +Bingle became a fabulously rich man without the slightest effort or +intention on his part. + +Mr. Hooper one day recalled to mind the postal-card will. If his memory +served him right there was something jocose and undignified about +it--something that would not look well in the public prints. He visited +the offices of his lawyers, recovered the amazing instrument, and +forthwith set about to make a new will, bereft of certain grewsome +stipulations but quite as sweeping in purpose as the other had been. In +fact, he left his fortune--as he had done before--to his beloved +nephew, Thomas Singleton Bingle, with three precautionary bequests to +his son and daughters, providing against the contests that were sure to +follow. He bequeathed the sum of one thousand dollars to each of his +children, and he signed his name once more as Joseph H. Hooper--for the +first time in fourteen years. + +His wanderings as a tramp--in his own account of himself he used the +word "tramp" with a shocking lack of pride--led him inevitably into the +far Northwest. Men were doing things up there. The country fairly +seethed with the activity of live, virile men who were taking the first +staunch grip upon the tricky wheel of fortune and were turning it to +their own account. Every man was building; no man complained of +conditions, for conditions were so new and so ready to hand that he who +found fault was merely lessening his own chance to secure his share of +the vast resources that spread before him, welcoming the greedy fingers +of him who courted the future and shunned the past. All men lived in +the present out there in the great stretches, and all men were strong +and eager. + +Joseph Hooper caught the fever that infected the West. He shook off the +fetters that bound him to a far from enchanted East, and began to +squirm with the first tickling sensations of an ambition that had never +really made itself felt, even in the old days of successful achievement +among men who were content to tread the beaten and commonplace highway +toward riches. The spirit of the West gripped him in its great, +enveloping hands, picked him out of the slough and set him down again, +plump upon his two feet, high and dry, prodding him violently all the +while with a spur that would not permit him to stop or to take a step +backward, with the natural result that he moved forward--slowly, +dazedly at first, and then with a mighty rush. + +He had one advantage over most of the men who were being driven +helter-skelter by the grateful lash of the West: he was a trained +money-getter. Back of him were generations of shrewd business men, +while dormant in his own being was the half-stunned thing called +natural ability. The simple shrewdness of Joseph Hooper, combined with +a certain hitherto unconfessed lack of respect for the Golden Rule, to +say nothing of a vain-glorious desire to kick the world that had kicked +him, soon produced opportunities that paved the way for his +rehabilitation. + +Without a dollar to his name, with nothing in the shape of resources +save a self-sufficient nerve and an infinite eastern contempt for these +struggling westerners, he began to promote things! + +The field was fresh and fertile. Inside of two years he reaped a +half-dozen harvests--and replanted as he went along! First, he promoted +a street railway in a place called Mockawock; then it became necessary +for some one to establish reasons for the existence of such a thing as +a car-line in a town that could be traversed on foot, from one end to +the other, in less than eight minutes; so he began to promote the +organisation of a wagon factory at one extreme and a pickle works at +the other, possessing the far-sightedness to put them so far away from +each other that if one wanted to go to the pickle works from the wagon +factory, or vice versa, he would have to go by trolley unless he +possessed the hardiness of an ox and was not dismayed by the vastness +of the city limits. For like all towns in the great Northwest, +Mockawock had its limits and they were wide enough to make New York or +Chicago appear cramped by comparison. One could walk for hours in a +straight line south from the public square in Mockawock and still not +be "out in the country," figuratively speaking, although he might not +see a house or a human being--unless he turned his head--after the +first ten minutes. He could also walk west or north in the same futile +effort to get out of the "city" into the "country," but he could not +walk east for more than two city blocks. Mockawock happened to be +situated on the shores of Lake Superior and not even the most boastful +citizen would have contended that the city limits reached far in that +direction. + +And, having successfully promoted such enterprises in Mockawock as +would tend to convince the citizens that some day the city limits would +have to be extended, he very wisely took the gains acquired in the sale +of options, the disposal of franchises, the surrender of equities, and +all such, and slipped away to the vast forests in the north, where he +bought timber-land by the section. + +Another town required stirring up by this time, so he descended upon +it, backed by the reputation gained at Mockawock and, before the +citizens could say Jack Robinson, he had skilfully promoted a number of +enterprises, including a belt railroad, an electric lighting plant, and +a new evening newspaper, all of which fairly set the town by the ears +and made him one of the most important figures in the upper Lake region. + +Once more he slipped off into the forests and took unto himself +additional sections of virgin timber at inconceivably low prices. Other +men made much of the wheat-field and the town-lot, but Joseph Hooper +saw fortune in the forests. Again and again he increased his timber +land holdings. People thought he was buying up town-sites and smiled +smugly among themselves as they discussed the dreadful shock he was to +have when the time came for him to begin clearing away the timber! + +All this time he was known as Joseph H. Grimwell. There was no such +person as Joseph Hooper. That discredited individual had died, so to +speak, by the wayside, a vagabond. New York had lost track of him; his +family believed him to be dead--or in prison! It is barely possible +that he ought to have been incarcerated for some of his skilfully +manipulated enterprises, but that has nothing to do with this +narrative. It is relevant to dwell only upon the contention that riches +come swiftly to him who makes use of both hands without caring whether +the left knows what the right is doing or the other way about. At any +rate, Joseph Grimwell was a better man than Joseph Hooper ever had +been, and he was a wiser man in many respects than Solomon the historic. + +In brief, there came a day when his timber turned to gold. The name of +Grimwell became a household word. It even penetrated to the secret +crannies of Wall Street. Men who did not know oak from soft pine began +to plead with him to be "let in on the ground floor." Gentlemen who sat +in mahogany offices and worshipped at unseen shrines, took notice of +this man of the West who was getting more than his share of the +pillage. Promoters sought him out and haggled with him--haggled with +the prince of promoters! They tried to let him into the secret of +making money! + +Fortune may not always favour the brave, but it continues to do a +little something every now and then for the bold. In Joseph Grimwell's +case, it overlooked the fact that he was neither brave nor bold but +rewarded him for being interestingly tricky. Out of sheer respect for +his cleverness in acquiring all of the timber land available, Fortune +set about to outdo him in productiveness. It suddenly remembered that +it had placed three rich copper deposits in separate and distinct parts +of his land and kindly directed him to the spots. + +Now, copper can be turned into gold quite as readily as ice, or beef, +or hops, or any of the products of man's experimentation, just as one +can make hay while the sun shines, even though his field of activity +lies at the bottom of an oil-well. Mr. Grimwell made gold out of his +copper, just as he made it out of oak and pine and ash, and when he +came to be three score years and ten he had so many dollars that, like +Old Mother Hubbard, he didn't know what to do with them. + +It suddenly dawned upon him that there was no one to whom he could +leave this vast accumulation unless he made peace with his past. + +He sold out all of his holdings, reducing everything to coin of the +realm, and once more became a wanderer in search of a place to lay his +head. With fourteen or fifteen millions of dollars in his purse, so to +speak, he slunk into New York, a beggar still and hungrier than he had +ever been in his life. + +Then he tried out the plan that failed. His lawyer and his doctor alone +knew that Joseph Grimwell and Joseph Hooper were one and the same +person, and they were pledged to secrecy. One of them drew up his will +and the other made death as easy as possible for him. His nephew, poor +wretch, buried him in a grave alongside a devoted sister, froze his +ears while doing so--and lost his job in the bank besides! + +The new will was read in the offices of Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim on +the day following Mr. Bingle's first ride in a taxi-cab. The heir was +too bewildered to attend the meeting arranged for the same afternoon, +and it had to be postponed. As a matter of fact, he sent word to the +lawyers that his wife was too ill to come down that afternoon but would +doubtless be better on the following day. When informed that his wife's +presence was unnecessary and that his cousins were even then on their +way down town and that there was no way to head them off, he blandly +inquired if it wouldn't be possible to postpone the whole matter for a +week or two, assuring the gentlemen that he wouldn't, for all the +world, disturb Mrs. Bingle, who appeared to be sleeping comfortably for +the first time in twenty-four hours. In fact, he informed them that he +thought it would be a mistake to break the news to her while her cold +was so bad; as for himself, he didn't mind waiting a week or two--not +in the least--if it was all the same to Mr. Sigsbee. + +It was Melissa who broke the news to Mrs. Bingle, and it was at once +apparent that it was not a mistake to do so. The good lady improved so +rapidly that she sent for the expensive Dr. Fiddler, dismissing the +cheap Dr. Smith, and by seven o'clock that evening declared that she +had never felt better in all of her life. + +"I suppose you'll fire me now, Mr. Bingle," Melissa had said +dejectedly. "With all that money, you'll be wanting high-priced +servants." + +"Quite so," said Mr. Bingle magnificently. "Much higher-priced, +Melissa." + +"You'll never find any one that loves you more than I do," began +Melissa, on the verge of tears. + +"Allow me," interrupted Mr. Bingle, with a sweep of the hand. "The +highest priced servant in our employ is to be Melissa Taylor, which is +you, my girl. We shall probably keep two or three servants--if we can +find anything for them to do--but none of 'em shall receive as much as +you, Melissa. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." + +"I--I wasn't asking for a raise, sir," murmured Melissa, in +considerable distress. + +"You get it without asking," said Mr. Bingle. It should be remembered +that he was still very much dazed and bewildered. + +"Maybe you'll be having a butler and a regular chef. They come pretty +high, sir," advised Melissa, spilling a little of Mrs. Bingle's tea on +the counterpane. "Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Bingle." + +"Never mind, Melissa," said Mr. Bingle. "I guess we can afford to spill +a little tea if we like. I've no doubt that a butler would spill a +great deal. It doesn't matter what we have to pay him--if we have +him--you shall have five dollars a month more than he gets. That's +settled." + +The least important person at the "reading of the will" was the little +man who sat hunched up in a chair and gazed about him with perplexed +eyes, occasionally touching his sore ears with tender fingers, and +always regretting the act for the reason that it called the attention +of his cousins to something that appeared to gratify them a great deal +more than the actual business at hand. In fact, he never quite got over +that miserable hour of inspection on their part. He never ceased to +regret the condition of his ears on that stupendous occasion. What +might have been a really impressive hour in his life was spoiled by the +certainty that every one was paying more attention to his misfortune +than to his fortune. + +Of course, the conditions of the will were pretty well known to the +three children of Joseph Hooper, hours before they were read to them. +They knew that their detestable father had practically disinherited +them, but they were not prepared for the staggering baseness employed +by the old man in giving his reasons for cutting them off. To their +chagrin, mortification, even shame, they were compelled to listen to at +least a dozen letters that they had written to their father during the +period covered by his supposed degeneracy. The originals of these +letters, stained, dirty, frazzled but incontrovertibly genuine, were +attached to the instrument, and were referred to in certain specific +recommendations incorporated in the body of the will itself. + +Old Joseph had preserved the letters of his children. They were +emphatic evidences of their attitude toward him from first to last. +There was no such thing as going behind them. It might be possible to +produce proof that the testator was unsound of mind, but it would never +be possible to wipe out the written declarations of his mentally +perfect son and daughters. In these delectable missives they completely +disowned him as a father; they raked him fore and aft; they riddled him +with a hundred shafts of scorn; they repeatedly said that they never +wanted to see his face again; they put him out of their lives and +urgently requested him to put them out of his; they expected nothing of +him and they certainly did not want him to expect anything of them; and +so on and so forth. And in spite of all these bitter rebukings, old +Joseph had come back to New York ready and willing to let bygones be +bygones if they would only meet him half way. + +Geoffrey declared in so many words that his father had played a scurvy +trick on all of them. He managed to give utterance to this violent +opinion before his attorney could check his unnecessary eloquence. +After that, Geoffrey, subdued and desolate, kept extremely quiet and +suffered considerably under the convicting gaze of his sisters and +their husbands, all of whom were inclined to disown him there and then +as a brother for his reckless implication that their father was as sane +as any of them. + +Thomas Singleton Bingle was to receive, in round figures, fifteen +million dollars under the will of his uncle, after the funeral expenses +and all just debts had been paid. It was really quite staggering. If +Thomas Singleton Bingle had not been so completely wrapped up in his +ears, it is certain that he would have acted as any other intelligent +human being would have acted at a time like this. He would have gone +stark, staring mad. + +But wait! After all, he DID become a bit daffy. Observing the +desolated, crushed attitude of his three cousins, his honest heart +smote him sorely. He piped up from the depths of his chair and +announced that all he wanted out of the estate was the amount that he +had actually expended in caring for Uncle Joe during the past few +months. He would be satisfied with that and--But he got no farther. Mr. +Sigsbee hastened to remind him that he hadn't anything to say about it. +He didn't have a voice in the matter. And then Angela and Elizabeth +scornfully observed that it was a pretty time to talk about that sort +of thing, after he had so skilfully succeeded in influencing their +poor, mentally unbalanced father to make a will like this one. + +Right heroically, Mr. Bingle declared that he was willing to give all +of his inheritance to any deserving charity, or charities, reserving, +if no one objected, a sufficient amount to enable him to purchase a +little farm on which he could spend the rest of his days and not have +to go on forever as a bookkeeper in a bank. + +"Bosh!" said Geoffrey Hooper, glaring at his rich cousin. + +"Ridiculous!" cried Angela and Elizabeth, transfixing Mr. Bingle with +glittering eyes. + +"Very well," said Mr. Bingle, arising hastily. "Let it be bosh and +ridiculous, just as you like. I would have been willing to take this +small amount, just as I have said, and, what's more, I might have been +willing to divide the estate into four equal parts--if Mr. Sigsbee +would let me do it--but now I'll be damned if I'll do anything for +either of you. You don't deserve a nickel, not one of you. You had your +chance and you didn't take it. I fed and clothed and housed your father +and I stood ready to spend my last dollar to make his last few days on +earth comfortable and easy. I buried him. I went to his funeral. I took +the chance of losing my job by doing so. I froze my ears--oh, look at +'em! I don't care. And now you--you three! You can go to the devil, +with my compliments as well as Uncle Joe's. Come along, Mary! Let's get +out of this. We've got fifteen million dollars coming to us, and we +don't have to sit here and be insulted by people to whom we have +offered charity. Good day, Mr. Sigsbee. If you want me for anything, +you'll find me at the bank. Now, be sure you wrap your throat up +carefully, Mary. Don't take any chances. You look as though you were +overheated." + +Mr. Sigsbee followed them into the corridor, where he shook hands with +the indignant heir. + +"Your troubles have just begun, Mr. Bingle," he said, with a genial +smile. + +"How's that?" + +"We'll have a long, bitter fight on our hands, but--we'll win. There +will be a contest, you see." + +"All right," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes snapping. "I'm ready. I stood by +Uncle Joe when he was alive, you can bet your last dollar I'm not going +back on him now that he's dead." + +That evening, sitting over the crackling grate fire, Mr. Bingle broke a +long period of silence by remarking to his wife: + +"I dare say we can afford to adopt one or two, Mary, with all this +money we're going to have." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE HONOURABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE + + +Time flies. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +It is another Christmas Eve, ten years later than the one described in +the opening chapter of this narrative. The Honourable Thomas Singleton +Bingle is preparing for his annual reading of "The Christmas Carol." +The sentiment which influences him on this occasion is the same that +inspired the habit in his days of long ago, but the surroundings have +changed. Now the vast drawing-room in the home of Mr. Bingle provides +the setting for an elaborate observance of a custom that has become +almost historic to those who have studied the life and habits of Mr. +Bingle. An imposing English butler, assisted by two able footmen and +the head gardener of the estate, are employed in the final decoration +of the huge room. For seven or eight years they have performed these +Christmas Eve duties in the mansion on the Sound. Melissa, a trifle +more buxom than in the days of the lower West Side apartment but quite +as capable despite her secret knowledge that she receives a greater +salary than the mighty Diggs, is superintending the hanging of a row of +stockings along the mantel-ledge, stockings of variegated hues and +distinguishing sizes. + +There are eleven children in the family now. They range from one year +up to twelve. Kathleen and Frederick divide the distinction of +seniority, both being twelve. There is some doubt as to the actual age +of Henrietta and Guinevere, but for the sake of policy, Henrietta, who +came first, is down in the family records as six, Guinevere as five, +although Mrs. Bingle herself confesses that they came but six weeks +apart, and at a time when a few weeks, either way, make little or no +difference in the computation. This was the nearest that Mr. and Mrs. +Bingle ever came to being blessed with twins. For awhile they hoped +that they could make twins out of these infants, but, as the children +grew older, the impracticability of such a thought--or ambition--became +clear to them, and they reluctantly abandoned the project. Henrietta +revealed all the characteristics of being of Italian extraction, while +Guinevere was unmistakably Irish. + +If you were to take a motor-ride along the North Shore of Long Island +Sound and feel your way back into private lanes that appear to lead +nowhere in particular, they are so deviously circuitous, you would pass +by the lodge gates of two magnificent estates. One of them belonged to +Mr. Bingle, the other to Sydney Force--or, more strictly speaking, to +Mrs. Sydney Force. It is worthy of mention that Mr. Force lived up to +his theory of regeneration by selling to Mr. Bingle, at a tremendous +profit, one hundred acres off of the least desirable end of his late +father-in-law's estate, thereby proving to himself that the early bird +is a much smarter creation than the one which is satisfied to possess a +mere nest-egg. Of course, the selling of that "parcel" of land was +provocative of most acrimonious disputes between Mr. and Mrs. Force. +Mrs. Force, while not averse to the sale of the land, was frightfully +cut up by the fact that she was to have the impossible Bingles as +neighbours, and Mr. Force, who was the prince of snobs, berated her +soundly for petty snobbishness. + +"Bingle is such a hopelessly common name," she said. + +"It happens to be a proper name," remarked Mr. Force, resorting to a +rather lame sort of wit. + +"If it only had been Mrs. Bransone or Mrs. Mortimer," she sighed. "They +are awfully smart, don't you know. One meets them everywhere." + +"We couldn't have sold that piece of land to either one of 'em," said +he. "They are much too smart for that." + +Mr. Bingle erected a very costly and magnificent house, much against +his will, and spent a great deal of time thereafter in wishing that he +was back in the five-room apartment where he could put his hand on +anything he wanted without having to call for a servant to tell him +where to find it. He was so stupendously rich and so completely awed by +the importance of being acquainted with Mrs. Force that he became a +most desirable neighbour, from that lady's point of view. She +experienced a great deal of pleasure in association with a man who +could be made to feel as small as he gave every sign of being when in +her august presence. It was really a joy to her. With all his money, he +could not induce his wife's gowns to hang as Mrs. Force's hung; he +could not make her boots fit as neatly, nor her hats sit as naturally; +he could not buy style or majesty for Mrs. Bingle. So he was the kind +of neighbour to have. Any woman will tell you that. + +Diggs was telling Watson, the footman, just where to put the mistletoe. +Watson's position was precarious. He was at the top of a step-ladder, +struggling to reach the lowest crystal pendant on the enormous +chandelier, and the ladder was wobbling. + +"It's all tommy-rot," muttered Watson, apropos of nothing that had gone +before. + +"Wot's all tommy-rot?" demanded Mr. Diggs severely. + +"Christmas Eve," said Watson. "I have no objection to Christmas +morning, but 'ang me if I can see any sense in Christmas Eve. What's it +good for, anyway?" + +"You'd better get a taller ladder," said Mr. Diggs. "It's getting on +towards 'alf-past eight. We can't be all night 'anging that bunch of +mistletoe, you know." + +Melissa paused in her work long enough to devote an appraising look +upon Watson. + +"You look very handsome up there, Watson. It gives you a very good +height. Straighten your legs out a bit. If you stand up as straight as +you can you'll be as tall as Mr. Diggs THINKS he is." + +"See here, my fine lady," began Diggs, annoyed. + +"Oh, I beg pardon, Mr. Diggs," cried Melissa. "I didn't see you." + +"You'll get your walking papers if you don't keep your place," said +Diggs ominously. + +"And I'll keep my place if I don't get my walking papers," retorted +Melissa, airily. + +"And what's more," went on the butler, "you'll get the sack anyway if +you don't stop filling the kids up with them yarns of yours. The nurses +were telling Mrs. Bingle that the children didn't go to sleep for hours +last night, they were that scared." + +"Seeing ghosts, dragons and goblins all night long," said Hughes, the +second footman, shoving a big chair into position. Chairs from all +parts of the house had been brought to the drawing-room and arranged in +a semi-circle in front of the huge fireplace, at one corner of which +stood Mr. Bingle's reading lamp, accurately placed at the edge of a +costly little Italian table. There were big chairs and little chairs, +soft chairs and hard ones, chairs of velvet and chairs of silk, chairs +of ancient needle-point and chairs that could not be sat upon. + +"I didn't tell any ghost stories yesterday," said Melissa. "I told 'em +about robbers and kidnappers." + +"Get the ladder, Watson," said Diggs. "What are you standing there for? +Do you think it's a pedestal you're on?" + +"I just wanted to say that three of the kids saw sea-serpents and +crocodiles in their dreams--" + +"Don't lay it to me, Watson," broke in Melissa. "I'm not to blame if +they had delirium tremens. I didn't give them anything to drink." + +"I--I shall have to speak to Mrs. Bingle about you, Melissa," exclaimed +Diggs severely. + +"Do! She is always complimented when you condescend to speak to her, +Mr. Diggs." + +"Don't scrap," put in the gardener mildly. "Remember it's Christmas +Eve." + +"Oy-yoy!" groaned Watson. "We've all got to listen to Mr. Bingle read +Dickens again. It will be the sixth time I've 'eard The Christmas Carol +in this 'ere room." He departed in quest of the tall step-ladder, +banging Hughes on the shins with the small one as he swung past. + +Hughes said something under his breath and then, with a quick glance at +Melissa, went on: "I will say this for the old boy, he makes Christmas +a merry one for all of us." + +"Must I remind you again, Hughes, not to speak of the master as 'the +old boy'? Please remember that you were engaged as a TRAINED servant." + +"Well, I'd have you to know, Mr. Diggs, that I'm not one of your bally +English servants. I'm as good an American as any one, and I say what I +please." + +"You were engaged as an English footman. I distinctly told you that at +the intelligence office when I engaged you. You may be as American as +you please on your days out, but while you are on duty in this 'ouse, +you've got to be as English as I am, or--" + +"Oh, I can drop 'em as well as any one, Mr. Diggs," said Hughes +scornfully. "'Ulloa! 'Ere comes the lidy governess!" He was peering +into the hall, the corners of his mouth drawn down in the most approved +English fashion. + +Whatever may have been Mr. Bingle's taste in the selection of rugs and +furniture, he could be charged with no lack of it in his choice of a +governess for the young Bingles. Miss Fairweather was as pretty as a +picture. In fact, you would go a long way before you found a picture as +pretty as Miss Fairweather. Her serene beauty was disturbed, however, +by a perplexed frown, as she hurriedly entered the room and paused just +inside the door for a furtive, agitated glance down the hall. + +"Diggs, who is in the library with Mr. Bingle?" she inquired, +unconsciously lowering her voice as if fearing the sharpness of distant +ears. It was a very pleasing, musical voice, a fact which no one +appreciated more than Diggs, who boasted of his ability to know a lady +when he heard one. + +"A newspaper chap, Miss Fairweather. To interview Mr. Bingle about +the--" (here he sighed faintly)--"about the Christmas jollities." + +Miss Fairweather sent another futile look in the direction of the +library. She was plainly distressed by her failure to see through the +walls that intervened. + +"What--what name did he give?" + +"I can't say, Miss. I didn't quite catch it myself." + +"But you must have announced him. He gave you his card or--something, +didn't he?" + +"No, Miss. He announced 'imself over the telephone this afternoon. It +sounded like Blinkers, or, even more nearly, on his repeating it, like +Rasmussen. At any rate, Mr. Bingle was expecting 'im, and came out into +the 'all before I had the chance to learn his name proper, so to speak, +Miss." + +She bit her lip, annoyed. "Was it Flanders, Diggs?" + +Mr. Diggs reflected. "It was," said he. "Now that you mention it, it +was. Richard, I think." + +Miss Fairweather lowered her eyes suddenly and grasped the back of a +chair as if to steady herself. The next instant, she had recovered, +except that a queer, hunted look had settled in her eyes. + +"Thank you, Diggs. Please say to Mrs. Bingle that I shall not be down +again this evening. I have a splitting headache." She moved rapidly +toward the door. + +"Won't you be here for the reading, Miss?" + +"No. I always cry when I hear about Tiny Tim." "Beg pardon, Miss, but +as this is your first Christmas Eve 'ere, you'll excuse me for saying +that the entire 'ousehold is expected to be present for the reading. It +is a rule, Miss. Even the cook comes up." + +"Thank you, Diggs. Please give my message to Mrs. Bingle." + +"Very good, Miss." + +"By the way, is this Mr. Flanders tall and fair, with dark grey eyes, a +rather broad mouth and just the tiniest sort of a wave in his +hair--especially above the ears? And a small white scar on his left +thumb?" + +Diggs arose to the demands of the occasion, as he always did. "Yes, +Miss. Quite accurate, I'm sure. And a very pleasant voice, I may add if +you don't mind." + +"Thank you, Diggs," said Miss Fairweather for the third time, and then +scurried across the hall and up the broad staircase, accelerating her +speed materially as the library door was thrown open and lively +masculine voices came booming up from behind her. + +"Sounds like a scene from a novel," said Melissa to Diggs, "A +mysterious stranger appears to disturb the peace and quiet of our +heroine. She runs off and hides in her room, shivering with dread lest +this spectre out of her dark past---" + +"Rubbish!" said Mr. Diggs. + +"Sure," said Melissa. "That's what most novels are. It's my opinion +that that young lady's been on the stage, Mr. Diggs. She acts just like +an actress. I've noticed that in her from the beginning. And the other +day she had a letter from a theatrical manager. I saw the name on the +envelope." + +"I dare say," observed Diggs, inattentively. Watson appeared with the +tall step-ladder. "Be a bit lively, Watson. I 'ear Mr. Bingle in the +'all. Go and open the door for Mr. Flanders, Hughes." + +Melissa happened to be standing directly beneath the mistletoe. Hughes +took advantage of an opportunity that has become historic. Then he +passed swiftly out of the room, followed by Melissa's astonished: "Oh, +you!" Watson came nimbly down the ladder and emulated the example of +the astonishing Hughes quite before Melissa could recover herself. He +received a resounding smack in return, but from the young woman's open +hand. + +"Don't stand under it," he grumbled ruefully, "unless you want to play +the game." + +"I'll stand under it as long as I please," said Melissa defiantly, +planting herself firmly on the spot from which Watson had hastily +removed the ladder. She faced Mr. Diggs. + +Mr. Diggs coloured. He cleared his throat and then glared at Watson, +who went grinning from the room. Melissa was a very pretty, rosy young +woman, and her eyes flashed dangerously. + +"It's a fine old custom," said Mr. Diggs persuasively. "In merry +England we hobserve it--er--you might say religiously, and without fear +of future complications. It can be done in a dignified fashion if--" + +"I don't want to have it done in a dignified fashion," protested +Melissa, lifting her round little chin and pursing her lips invitingly. +"Do it as if you liked it, not as if you wanted to be religious." + +Mr. Diggs became human at once. He laid aside his austerity, and was no +longer a butler but a good-looking chap of thirty-five who had the +"very Old Nick" in him. It was the sort of kiss that has nothing in +common with mistletoe--the sort that DOES lead to future complications. +It proved something to Melissa, and she uttered a little sigh of +happiness. Mr. Diggs kissed her because he was in love with her. + +Unfortunately, Mr. Bingle entered the room at the very instant of least +resistance, and coughed. + +"Oh, I--I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, genuinely distressed. +It is worthy of note that it was the good little man who apologised, +not Diggs. + +As the master was accompanied by the tall young newspaper chap, who +grinned abominably, both Diggs and Melissa forgot their moment of bliss +and fell from a great height. Needless to say, they were speechless. + +"It's quite all right, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle, affecting a vast +geniality. "What's a mistletoe for if not to--yes, yes, Melissa, it's +quite all right. Ahem! Don't you agree with me, Mr. Flanders?" + +"Thoroughly," said Mr. Flanders with conviction. "And what's more, Mr. +Bingle, I agree with Diggs." + +Melissa, crimson to her throat, fled. Mr. Diggs passed his hand over +his brow, as if to clear his brain, and then stammered in a voice that +strove hard to regain its former impressiveness: + +"Yes, sir, it--it is all right, sir. Quite all right, sir. As right as +can be, sir." + +"Right as rain," proclaimed Mr. Bingle, resorting to a habit of +imitation that had marked his progress during the past few years of +observation. He had heard the imposing Diggs say it, many times over. +It was quite the proper thing to say, of course--apparently on any and +all occasions--but, for the life of him, Mr. Bingle couldn't grasp the +significance of the simile. "And now, Diggs, THAT being settled, is +everything else all right?" He surveyed the great, gaily bedecked room +with an eye that took in the smallest detail. + +"I think so, sir," said Diggs, slowly recovering. "You will hobserve, +sir, that I have added the necessary new chair--the 'igh-chair over +here, sir, for little Miss Him--Imogene." + +"I see. We make it a point, Mr. Flanders, to get a new baby at least +once a year. The first year, as I explained, we had three. Two or three +years ago, one came in May and another in September." + +"Mental arithmetic gives you twelve in all," said young Mr. Flanders. + +"Eleven. We lost one in 1906. Little Harriet." + +"Eleanor, sir, begging your pardon," corrected Diggs. + +"Right. Thank you, Diggs. Malnutrition. We never should have had her. +There goes the door-bell, Tell Mrs. Bingle that Mr. and Mrs. Force have +arrived, and give Mr. Force a drink before she comes down." + +"Very good, sir." Diggs retired with gravity. + +"President of our bank, you know. Mr. Sydney Force," explained Mr. +Bingle. + +"I know. The husband of Mrs. Sydney Force," said Flanders, a twinkle in +his grey eyes. + +"Sit down, Mr. Flanders. I'd ask you to have a cigar, but the nurses +say that smoke isn't good for the children. Force always smokes here. I +can't tell him not to, you see. He wouldn't come again." In that bit of +ingenuousness, Mr. Bingle exposed the family state of mind in respect +to their aristocratic neighbours. "Now, this is where we have the +reading. Permit me to call your attention to the way we arrange +the--er--the auditorium, you might say. That's where I sit--over there. +I'm glad you've decided to stay and hear The Christmas Carol. It will +do you good, Mr. Flanders. You'll be a better man for it. There is a +train in at nine-fifty-five. We'll not be interrupted here, so fire +away. I'm ready to be interviewed." + +They seated themselves on the broad, luxurious couch that marked the +precise centre of the semi-circle and was evidently intended to be the +section of honour. Mr. Bingle leaned back, stretched out his slender +legs, crossed his feet, and looked over his tortoise-shell glasses with +a fine assumption of tolerance. He was still trying, after many years, +to enjoy his own importance. Sad to relate, he still expected to wake +up and find that he had but half an hour in which to eat his breakfast +and get across town to the bookkeeper's stool he had occupied the day +before. He sometimes felt of his ears reminiscently, for they seemed in +some way to clearly connect him with his last waking hours. He never +quite got over listening for the alarm clock. + +At fifty-three, he was no older in appearance than when he was +forty-three. If anything, he seemed younger, for the harassed, +care-worn expression had disappeared, leaving him bland, benign of +countenance, although the same imperishable wrinkles lined his pinched +cheeks. He was just as careless about his sparse hair as in the days of +old. It was never by any chance sleek and orderly. The habit of running +his fingers through his thatch still clung to him, significant reminder +of the perplexities that filled his daily life over the ledgers and +day-books. In all other respects, however, he was a re-made man. + +His trim little frame was clothed in expensive garments; his patent +leather pumps were the handiwork of the most fashionable of bootmakers, +and quite uncomfortable; his hosiery was of the finest silk and his +watch-chain was of platinum; there were pearl studs in his unpolished +shirt front and four shining black buttons on his neat white waistcoat; +his clawhammer coat had a velvet collar and fitted him about the +shoulders as if it had been constructed for a man who possessed much +more of a figure than he; and his trousers were primly pressed. Not the +same old Bingle outwardly, you will say, but you are wrong. He was, and +always will be, like the leopard. + +A certain briskness of manner, inspired by necessity, had come to him +in these days of opulence. His position in life made its demands, and +one of the most exacting of these denied him the privileges of +familiarity. He would have liked nothing better than an hour or two a +day of general conversation with Mrs. Bingle and Melissa--say while the +latter was tidying up the library--but that was utterly out of the +question under the new order of things. He was compelled, by virtue of +exaltation, to be very crisp, succinct, positive in his treatment of +the most trivial matters; as for conversing amiably with a single +servant in his establishment, something told him more plainly than +words that it would not be tolerated--not for an instant. He would have +given a great deal to be able to just once shout a glad, cheerful, +heart-felt "good morning" to Diggs--or to any one of the servants, for +that matter--but custom and the surprising dignity of his employees +compelled him to utter the greeting in a casual, bored manner, quite as +if he did it automatically and always as if he was on the point of +clearing his throat. He sorely missed Melissa's spontaneous, even +vulgar "Morning, Mist' Bingle," and the rattle of cutlery and +chinaware. Melissa had acquired a fine but watchful dignity. She now +said "good morning, sir" in the hushed, impersonal voice of the trained +servant. She never "joked" with him, as of yore, although he was by way +of knowing that she bubbled over with fun in the regions "below stairs." + +"I haven't heard The Christmas Carol since I was twelve years old," +said Richard Flanders. He had his note paper on his knee. "What I want, +Mr. Bingle, is a good Christmas story from you. We shall play it up, of +course, and--well, it ought to be good reading. Your own story, sir, +from the beginning. All about the Hooper millions and the children that +just grew." + +"Something stranger than fiction, eh?" mused Mr. Bingle. "But, my dear +sir, it's such an old story, this yarn about me. The newspapers have +worn it to shreds. Suppose we leave out all reference to the Hooper +millions. If the public is as tired of those millions as I am at times, +Mr. Flanders, we'll be doing an act of charity if we leave 'em out. You +will get your best story, as you call it, by observing what happens +here to-night. No one else has ever done it for a newspaper. You are +the first, my dear sir. I am a simple man. I don't like to be in the +newspapers. The long and tiresome litigation over my poor uncle's +estate has kept me more or less in the limelight, as you fellows would +say, and there have been times when I willingly would have given up the +fight if my lawyers had allowed me to do so. But a lawyer is something +you can't get rid of, once you've got him--or he's got you, strictly +speaking. My lawyers won't allow ME to quit, and I have every reason to +suspect that they won't allow the other side to quit. However, I +believe the matter is nearing an end. The United States Supreme Court +will pass on the issue just as soon as the lawyers on both sides reach +a verdict--that is to say, a verdict acknowledging that it won't pay +them to delay the business any longer. The case of Hooper et al vs. +Bingle has been going on like the Jarndyce matter for nearly nine +years. We've licked them in every court and in three separate hearings, +and my lawyers are confident the Supreme Court will sustain the +findings of the lower courts. I am a tender-hearted lunatic, Mr. +Flanders. I have made an arrangement whereby the son and two daughters +of Joseph Hooper are to be paid one million dollars each out of the +estate, just as soon as I know definitely that I have beaten them in +the court of last resort. I guess that will surprise 'em, eh?" + +Flanders' eyes glittered. "Don't forget, Mr. Bingle, that you are +speaking to a newspaper man. That last statement of yours would make a +sensation, sir." + +Mr. Bingle sighed. "I am sure you will not take advantage of me, Mr. +Flanders. I have made a similar statement to every newspaper man who +has interviewed me, and every one of them has promised not to use it in +his paper. So far not one of them has violated his promise. I am sure, +sir, that you are no less honourable than the rest of the boys." + +"I have given no promise, sir." + +"Nevertheless I shall trust you not to use the statement, Mr. Flanders. +And now, let us get back to the important part of the interview." + +Flanders stared hard for a few seconds, unable to comprehend the serene +faith that this little but exceedingly important man reposed in his +fellow-man. He appeared to take it for granted that this startling +piece of confidence would not be betrayed, no matter to whom it was +extended. There was something actually pathetic in his guilelessness. +Mr. Richard Flanders admittedly was staggered, and yet somewhere down +in his soul he knew there was a spark of fairness that would become a +stupendous obstacle in the path of his news-getting avarice. Of course, +he was no less honourable than the rest of the boys! + +"You would be more generous toward your cousins, I fear, than they +could be toward you," said the reporter, twisting his pencil nervously. +After all, it WOULD create a sensation, this remarkable statement of +Mr. Bingle. + +"Oh, they would cheerfully see me rot in the poorhouse," assented Mr. +Bingle composedly. "I am not deceiving myself in regard to Geoffrey and +Angela and Lizzie--I mean Elizabeth. You won't mention what I have just +confided to you, will you, Mr. Flanders?" + +Flanders sighed. He had hoped that the petition would not be put into +definite form. + +"Certainly not, sir--if you--er--if you'd rather I wouldn't," he +managed to say with a fair show of alacrity. "But, gee!" The +half-muttered ejaculation spoke volumes of regret. + +His host smiled complacently. It was settled, so far as he was +concerned. Mr. Flanders was to be depended upon. + +"Still snowing when you came in?" he asked, quite irrelevantly but with +interest. + +"Yes, sir--hard." + +"Good! We'll have bob-sledding on the terrace for the kiddies +to-morrow. I suppose you'd like to know how we happen to have such a +large and growing family. Well, it's all very simple. It is our +practice to acquire a new baby at least once a year. On occasions we +have felt called upon to make it two, and even three, but of late it +seems the more sensible plan to limit ourselves to one. It is our idea +to keep up the practice until I am seventy-five, if God permits me to +live to that age. So, you see, we will have reared a family of +thirty-three children by that time, and we will never be without little +toddlers and prattlers. I am fifty-three now, Mr. Flanders. We are +reasonably sure to have twenty-two additions to the family. The pitiful +part of getting old and decrepit lies in the fact that one's children +grow up, get married, leave home--or die--and that is just what we are +trying to guard against. On my seventy-fifth birthday, there will be a +fine, healthy two-year-old babe crying and goo-gooing for my especial +benefit, and by working backwards in your figuring you can also credit +us with a three-year-old, a four-year-old, and so on up the line. +Naturally we will have lost a goodly number of the first-comers, but we +provide against a deficit, so to speak, by this little plan of ours. +Some of the girls may not turn out as well as we expect, however, so +there is the possibility that they may remain with us to the end, +enjoying single-blessedness. The boys, of course, will marry." + +"It is splendid, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders enthusiastically. "You are +a wonder." + +"Not at all, not at all," protested Mr. Bingle, with a deprecatory +gesture. "I'm a selfish, conniving old rascal, that's what I am. We've +always wanted children, Mrs. Bingle and I, and we never--er--never +seemed to have 'em as other people do, so we began to look for children +that needed parents as much as we needed children. That's the whole +thing in a nut-shell. We are a bit high-handed about it, too. We never +have a child until it is past the teething age and can walk a little +bit and talk a little bit. So, you see, we manage to have 'em without +the drawbacks. That's where we are selfish and--" + +"I think you're quite sensible about it, Mr. Bingle," interrupted +Flanders politely. "They say teething is awful." + +"That's what they say," said Mr. Bingle, a slight frown of regret on +his brow. "Still, I should have preferred--ahem! Yes, yes! Most +annoying, I'm told. The nurses seem to know. We began adopting our +children as soon as we came into possession of my Uncle Joseph's money. +Up to that time, we had hesitated about having other people's children +on our hands and minds. Of course you'll understand that poverty could +never have stood in the way of our having children of our own. God +simply did not choose to give them to us. The old saying, 'a poor man +for children,' did not work very well in my case. Mrs. Bingle is ten +years younger than I. She is a strong, normal woman. I never could +understand why--er--and neither could she, for that matter. As soon as +we came into this fortune, or, more accurately speaking, after we had +returned from our first trip to California and a short visit to +Chicago, we adopted Kathleen. She was the daughter of a young woman +who--but, never mind. We sha'n't go into that. She was about two years +old. At once it occurred to both of us that it would be a fine idea to +have a boy to grow up with her. So we called in the stork. He happened +to have a splendid, left-over, unclaimed two-year-old boy in stock, so +we took him. That was Frederick. Then, a friend of mine--a widower who +worked as a bookkeeper alongside of me, chap named Jenkins--died very +suddenly, leaving a little girl just under eighteen months of age. +That's how we got Marie Louise. And so it goes, Mr. Flanders, right up +to date. Henrietta and Guinevere are almost twins. Six weeks between +'em. They--" + +"You mean in respect to age or--" + +"In respect to their arrival. Guinevere came much sooner than was +anticipated, you might say. Little Imogene came the twenty-sixth of +last September. She cries a good deal. I am inclined to think she's +getting her wisdom teeth." + +"Naturally, Mrs. Bingle is keen about the idea. Saves a lot of bother." + +"It's got to be such a joy having children in this way, when we please, +as often as we like, and being able to determine sex to our own +satisfaction, that we really look forward to the arrival of a new one. +There's always the pleasure of picking out blondes or brunettes. We try +to equalize as much as possible. I am--or was--a blonde, Mr. +Flanders--quite a decided blonde. Mrs. Bingle is still a brunette." + +"And now, may I inquire, do they all regard you as their real father?" + +"In a measure. There are times when they look upon me as a sort of +truck-horse. But real fathers have told me that that is customary. They +call me daddy, if that's what you mean. Once in a while they seem to +recollect that there was another man and woman in their lives, but not +often. Generally people who used to beat them, I gather. I will say +this for our children: they were all thoroughly spanked before they +came to us. It takes 'em a long time to get used to not being spanked." + +"Do you never punish them?" + +"Frequently. If they're bad I have them locked in a closet. We've got a +very large closet with windows and other comforts. Usually there are +three or four of 'em in at the same time, so they don't mind." + +"God will surely reward you, sir, for being kind to all these poor +little kiddies. May I--ahem!--May I express the hope, sir, that some +day you may me blessed with--er--" + +"No use, sir. Thank you, just the same. It will never happen." + +"How many nurses have you in your employ?" + +"Four at present. We also have a school-teacher--I mean, a governess. +Excellent young woman. Teaches 'em French and German. Curiously enough +some of the children take to foreign languages quicker than the others. +Force says that Reginald is a Hebrew. He was supposed to be Irish." + +"Very interesting. All of them strong and healthy?" + +"Absolutely. You'd think so if you could see 'em fight occasionally. +They've had the whooping cough and chicken-pox. My doctor is the +renowned Dr. Fiddler. You know of him?" + +Mr. Bingle proceeded to dilate upon the activities and achievements of +Dr. Fiddler. There had been broken arms and prodigious bruises, cuts +and gashes of every conceivable character, and in every instance Dr. +Fiddler had performed with heroic fidelity. In the middle of a +particularly enthusiastic tribute to the doctor's skill as a fish-bone +extractor, Diggs appeared in the doorway, coughed indulgently, and then +advanced. + +"Beg pardon, sir. Mrs. Bingle says the children are getting nervous. +They happear to be--" + +A series of shrill screeches descended the stairway, followed by the +sudden slamming of a distant doorway and the instantaneous suppression +of bedlam. + +"Quite so, quite so," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, springing to his feet. +"Dear me, it is past the hour. Forgive me, Mr. Flanders, but--but I +really can't delay the--er--Yes, yes, Diggs, tell Mrs. Bingle that we +are all ready. Keep your seat, Mr. Flanders. Don't mind me. I must run +upstairs and see if--Quite so, Diggs. They MUST be nervous. Where is +Miss Fairweather?" + +"She has a 'eadache, sir, and says she can't come down--" + +"Stuff and nonsense! It will cure her headache. Send for her, Diggs. +She's our new governess, Mr. Flan--" + +"What was the name?" demanded the reporter, pricking up his ears. He +leaned forward with a new interest in his lively grey eyes. But Mr. +Bingle was gone, his coat-tails fairly whisking around the heavy +portieres. + +"Fairweather, sir," supplied Diggs. "Miss Hamy--I mean to say, +Amy--Fairweather." + +"Good Lord!" fell from the lips of Richard Flanders. Then he proceeded +to behave in the most astonishing manner. He sprang to his feet and +grasped the retreating Diggs by the arm, literally jerking that +dignified individual back upon his heels. His eyes were gleaming. "Dark +brown hair and soft grey eyes? Fairly tall and slend--" The sly grin on +the butler's face served to check the outburst. He abruptly subdued his +emotions. "Excuse me for grabbing you like that. I--I was just +wondering if--" + +Diggs had recovered his urbanity. "She is the same Miss Fairweather, +sir. I recognise her from your description. It may interest you to +hear, sir, that she acted just as queerly as you when I told her that +you--" + +"What did you tell her?" demanded Flanders, seeing that Diggs hesitated. + +"That you had a scar on your thumb, sir. By the way, HAVE you?" + +"I have!" exclaimed the young man. "Well, by George! Will wonders never +cease? Where is she? You say she isn't coming down--but, of course, +not! She couldn't think of it, knowing that I am here. I say, will +you--will you see that she gets a message from me? Wait a second. I'll +write it now. Just slip a note to her--Great Scott! What's that?" + +The house seemed to be clattering down about his head. + +"That, sir," responded Diggs, drawing a deep breath, "is the charge of +the light brigade. Hinfants in arms, you might say. There's no stopping +them now. 'Ere they come." + +And down the wide stairway streamed the shrieking vanguard of the +Christmas revellers--seven or eight unrestrained youngsters who had +snatched liberty from the nurses the instant Mr. Bingle opened the +play-room door at the top of the house. Down the steps they came, +regardless of stumbles and tumbles--an avalanche of joy. + +Diggs, from the doorway, raked the stairway and its squirming horde +with an exploring eye. + +"She is coming, sir. Fairly tall and slender, sir, and--" + +"Good Lord!" gasped Flanders, helplessly. "This is more than I can +stand. Diggs, do--do men ever faint?" + +There was no reply. Three sturdy youngsters collided with Diggs. There +was nothing he could say--with lucidity. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SEARCHERS REWARDED + + +Miss Fairweather bowed gravely to Flanders as she passed. Diggs +observed her closely. He was conscious of a sensation of +disappointment. He had counted on a scene--an interesting scene. +Circumstances justified something more thrilling than a mere nod of the +head, his intelligence argued, and it was really too bad to have it +turn out so tamely. + +Mr. Flanders, looking a trifle dazed and bewildered, contrived to hide +his emotions in a most commendable manner. A keener observer than +Diggs, however, would have detected a strange pallor in the young +woman's smooth cheek and an ominous shadow between her finely pencilled +brows. Even Diggs might have observed these symptoms but for the fact +that she kept her face rigidly averted. Mr. Flanders, from his position +near the door--he seemed to have taken root there--was favoured with no +more than a glimpse of the tip of a small ear and the faintest +suggestion of a cheek's outline. His own face, entirely visible to +Diggs, was scarlet--quite frankly so. + +Four nurses appeared, carrying infants. Miss Fairweather assisted in +the task of placing the sleepy-heads in their high-chairs and in the +subsequent occupation of entertaining them by means of sundry grimaces +and motions, keeping them awake--and quiet--against the arrival of Mr. +Bingle, who, it appears, had gone to his room to substitute a pair of +far from fashionable carpet slippers for the smart pumps he had been +wearing. There was a great deal of excitement attending the placing of +the children, but it passed unnoticed by Mr. Flanders. He was staring +hungrily, pleadingly at the unfriendly back of the new governess. + +Once she gave him a swift, perhaps unintentional look. It was too brief +to be described as significant, but it served to revive his interest in +the proceedings. He sprang forward and offered his aid to the nurses. +If he was clumsy in his attempt to jiggle a chair into position, an +explanation may be instantly provided. Miss Fairweather, after a brief +stare of indecision, favoured him with an almost imperceptible smile. +He happened to be in the act of pushing a high-chair under the +wriggling person of Imogene. That smile caused the momentary paralysis +of his whole being, with the result that the nurse came near to +depositing Imogene on the floor. Every one--except Imogene--squealed. +Mr. Flanders was reminded of his own existence. The arrested chair shot +into position and Imogene came down rather soundly on the seat of it, +and then every one giggled--except Imogene. + +"Amy!" he whispered, as she turned away from the little group. He was +at her side in an instant. She faced him, and there was no trace of the +departed smile in her eyes. + +"How dare you speak to me?" she said in low, intense tones. Her eyes +were cold, unfriendly. + +"I've been searching for you--" he began, eagerly, but her disdainful +laugh cut him short. + +"Go away, please. I don't want to see you. There is nothing more to be +said between us. It's all over, Dick. Don't speak to me again. I--I +don't want the Bingles to know that I--" + +"I must see you, Amy," he persisted. "It isn't all over. Now that I've +found you, I'll see that I don't lose track of you again. We can't talk +here. Where can I see you alone--" + +"Sh!" she cautioned, and he respected the appeal in her dark, +distressed eyes. Mr. Bingle had entered the room, and was greeted by a +shout of delight from the children. The governess moved swiftly away +from the young man's side, mingling with the nurses by the fireplace. + +Mr. Bingle, hurrying toward the semi-circle of youngsters was surprised +by a genial slap on the back from the visibly excited Flanders. + +"Wonderful!" exclaimed the young man, his face radiant. "Wonderful!" + +"Aren't they?" cried Mr. Bingle, pleased. + +"I don't mean the--Ahem! They certainly are, Mr. Bingle. I expect this +to be the most beautiful Christmas Eve in all my life, sir. I shall +never be able to thank you for--" + +"Tush, tush! Now come along. I want to introduce you to the young +ladies and gentlemen. Imogene, my dear, this is Mr. Flanders. Kathleen, +shake hands with--oh, I beg pardon, I ought to have presented you to +the Fairy Princess. Miss Fairweather, just a moment, please. I want you +to meet my friend, Mr. Flanders, of the Banner. Well, well, are we all +here? Let me see: one, two, three--no, hold up your hands as I call the +roll. Strict attention, Mr. Flanders, and you'll know which is which--I +say, Flanders, would you mind looking this way, please? Children first, +on an occasion like this, sir. Grown-ups don't count. How is your +headache, Miss Fairweather? Now, speak up, children. Answer to your +names--and how to Mr. Flanders, while you're about it." + +Planting himself in front of the row of eager children, grasping +Flanders's arm with one hand, and employing the other in a sort of +counting-off process, he called the roll. + +Kathleen, exquisitely dressed and radiant with joy, a dainty miss who +looked to be fourteen but was said to be twelve, curtsied to Flanders, +who bowed low, his roving eye unwilling to relax its interest in the +flushed face of the governess. Then came Frederick, a sturdy youngster; +Marie Louise, a solemn-eyed ten-year-old; Wilberforce, Reginald, +Henrietta, Guinevere, Harold, Rosemary, Rutherford, and last of all +Imogene, who whimpered. + +"There!" said Mr. Bingle proudly. "They did it very nicely, didn't +they, nurse?" He addressed the four nurses, who beamed as one. "Diggs, +you may summon the servants. I hear Mrs. Bingle and our guests in the +hall--or is it the--er--ahem!" + +"The servants 'ave congregated in the 'all, sir. It is them that is +whispering," said Diggs, who had been scowling in the direction of the +door. "I shall speak to them, sir. They should be made to understand--" + +"Don't lecture them to-night, Diggs," broke in Mr. Bingle hastily. "Not +on Christmas Eve. Let 'em whisper. Tell 'em to come right in. You see, +Mr. Flanders, we have the servants in to hear the Christmas Carol. It's +my rule. They enjoy it. They--Ah, my dear! Here we are! This is Mr. +Flanders, Mary--my wife, sir. Come right in, Mrs. Forced. Permit me to +introduce my old friend Flanders of the Banner. Mr. Force, shake hands +with Mr. Flanders. Now--er--ahem! All right, Diggs--call 'em in." + +The servants--a horde of them--stalked into the room, each one being +formally, but perfunctorily announced by the butler, and each one +flushing painfully in return for the attention. There was Delia, the +cook, and Christine, her assistant; Swanson, the furnace man; Lockhart, +the chauffeur, and Boyles, the washer; Cora, the laundress; Georgia, +the scullery-maid; Edgecomb, the gardener, and his four helpers; Beulah +and Emma, the upstairs-maids; Bliss, the lodge-keeper, and Jane, his +daughter; Frank, the pony-cart driver, and Joe, the coachman; Matson, +the stable-boy; Fannie, the seamstress; Rudolph, the carpenter; Miss +McLeish, the stenographer and telephone operator; Throckinorton, the +dairy-man; Scott, the stockman; John Butts, the handy-man; Melissa, +Watson and Hughes. The four nurses escaped official announcement +because they had been clever enough to anticipate the formality. + +Awkward, ill-at-ease in Sunday garments, and almost sullen in their +efforts to appear impressed, they formed an amazing group as they +clumsily ranged themselves in a compact fringe outside the more +favoured guests of the evening, who occupied what may be described as +the "orchestra." They remained standing. + +"Ever see the play called 'The Admirable Crichton'?" whispered Mr. +Bingle to Flanders while the servants were crowding into their places. + +"Yes," said Flanders. "I recognise the setting, but I miss the grown-up +daughters. Diggs is shorn of his opportunities, sir." + +"That play gave me an idea. It was written by a fellow named Barrie. He +also wrote 'Peter Pan.' That is the greatest play ever written." + +"If one believes in fairies, Mr. Bingle." + +"Well, I do," said Mr. Bingle. + +"So do I," said Flanders, his gaze wandering. Miss Fairweather was +caught in the act of staring at him. She lowered her eyes. + +Mr. Force arbitrarily had settled into the chair next to little +Kathleen. His hard, impassive face wore a softer expression than was +usually to be observed there, and his voice, ordinarily brusque and +domineering, became ludicrously soft and wheedling. + +"Come here, Kathleen. Sit on my knee. I've--I've got something pretty +for you." + +Kathleen instantly lost her joyous, happy expression. Her eyes fell and +her manner betrayed unmistakable aversion to the august petitioner. + +"Thank you, Mr. Force," she muttered, and was guiltily conscious of +impoliteness. Frederick snickered. "I--I don't want to," she went on, +spurred to defiance by her brother's action. + +"Why not?" demanded Mr. Force coaxingly. + +"Oh--because," said Kathleen, almost surlily. + +"Don't you like me, Kathleen?" + +"Yes, sir," said she, but without enthusiasm. + +"Would you like to see what I've got for you? All for yourself alone, +you know." + +Kathleen couldn't resist. She betrayed the greediness that overcomes +all feminine antipathy. "What is it?" she asked guardedly. + +"Sit on my knee and I'll put it around your neck," said he, fumbling in +his waistcoat pocket. + +The child flushed painfully and her eyes fell again. "I don't want to," +she repeated. + +Force got up from his chair, muttered something under his breath, and +moved away. He almost collided with Bingle. + +"What's the matter with these kids of yours, Bingle?" he began +irascibly. "Why don't you bring them up properly? Teach 'em politeness. +Teach them how to behave toward--" + +"My dear Force, has--has Kathleen been rude?" said Mr. Bingle in +distress. + +"You are not to reprimand her," said Force hastily. "I wouldn't have +you do that for the world. She'd always have it in for me if she knew +that I--but, what nonsense I'm talking. They are little ingrates +anyhow--all of them. Good Lord, Bingle, I can't understand what you see +in the brats." + +"I know you can't," said Mr. Bingle mildly. "That's just the difference +between us." + +"There's only one in the whole lot that I'd have as a gift," said +Force, with a sidelong glance at Kathleen, who was joyous once more. +"That girl has got some class to her. Why is it, Bingle, that she +dislikes me? All the rest of 'em are friendly enough--too friendly, if +anything--but she won't even look at me." + +"That's the woman of it," said Mr. Bingle. + +"What's the woman of it?" demanded Force gruffly. "What do you mean by +'woman of it'? Don't be silly, Bingle. She's a mere child." + +"She'll come around all right," said Mr. Bingle gaily. "Give her time, +old fellow, give her time." + +"Good heavens, what a racket they're making," growled Force. "Have you +no control over them, Bingle? I'd send the whole lot of them to bed, +hang me if I wouldn't." + +"On Christmas Eve? Oh, no, you wouldn't, old--Where are you going?" + +"I'm going into the library to smoke," said Force. "I can't stand the +row." + +"Now, don't do that," pleaded Mr. Bingle, grasping his arm. "Wait a +minute. I'll speak to Kathie. She--" + +"Do nothing of the sort," snapped Force. "She doesn't like me, and +that's all there is to it. I've taken a fancy to the child, Bingle--I +never liked a kid before in all my life. I've got a little present for +her, but--oh, well, never mind. I'll put it in her stocking, if you'll +tell me which is hers. But I say, why doesn't she like me, Bingle?" He +was staring at the back of Kathleen's brown, curly head, and his eyes +were filled with perplexity. + +"Bashful--just bashful," explained Mr. Bingle. + +"Do you really think so?" demanded the other eagerly. + +"Sure," said Mr. Bingle, delighted. "All girls go through that stage of +development. I don't mind saying to you, Force, she's my favourite. +It's a dreadful thing to say, but I'd rather lose any one of them--or +all of them--than to lose Kathie. I love her with all my heart." + +Flanders was shaking hands with the small boys, Mrs. Bingle looking on +with placid approval. + +"What's your name, my little man?" + +"Abraham." + +"Ahem!" coughed Mrs. Bingle, with a violent start. + +"Reginald, sir," gasped he whose memory was still faithful when under +the pressure of excitement. + +"I see," said Flanders, smiling down into Mrs. Bingle's embarrassed +eyes. "Lapsus linguae, Mrs. Bingle." + +"My French is very--" began Mrs. Bingle plaintively. + +"Do you like Santa Claus, Reginald?" interrupted Flanders. + +"I like him better'n I do Dickens," confessed Reginald with +considerable positiveness. "Say, what's your name?" + +"My name is Dick." + +"Gee! Deadwood Dick, the road-agent? The feller Melissa is always +telling us about? Hey, kids, here's--" + +"Sh!" hissed Flanders, clapping his hand over Master Reginald's mouth. +"Never mind that!" + +"Did I understand Mr. Bingle to say, Mr. Flinders, that you report for +the Banner?" It was Mrs. Force who spoke. She was inspecting the young +man through a bejewelled lorgnette, held at an angle which was meant to +establish beyond dispute the fact that she was looking down upon him +from a superior height. She was a tall woman and she had been married +to Mr. Force for twelve long years. Looking down on him had become such +a habit that it was quite impossible for her to look up to any one of +his sex. + +"Yes, Mrs. Force, the Banner." + +"Can you tell me who put that disgusting item in the paper about my +little gathering last week?" She regarded him with severity. + +"Gathering? Oh, I daresay it was one of the hospital reporters, Mrs. +Force," said Flanders suavely. She spent the rest of the evening in +cogitation. + +Three words describe Mrs. Force. She detested children. + +Joe, the coachman, and Watson were waiting for an opportunity to speak +to Mr. Bingle. They appeared to be crowding each other. + +"I beg pardon, Mr. Bingle," began Joe, hurriedly, as the master turned +in response to Watson's cough. + +"What is it, Joseph?" + +Watson succeeded in speaking first. "If you please, sir, my grandmother +is dying in the city. I've just been sent for, sir. I think it is +possible for me to catch the eight-forty--" + +"I beg pardon, sir," broke in Joe. "I've just heard that my sister is +expecting a baby to-night, and I thought I'd speak to you about getting +off--" + +"Just a moment," said Mr. Bingle, blinking rapidly. "Wasn't your +grandmother dying last Christmas Eve, Watson?" + +"No, sir. It was Hughes's grandmother." + +"Did she die?" + +"She did, sir," said Watson, with a pleased smile. "Hughes can attend +to my--" + +"And your sister, Joe: didn't you get off last month for three days to +attend her wedding? Your only sister, I think you said." + +"Yes, sir. Poor girl," said the coachman, without shame or conscience. + +Mr. Bingle looked hard at the two men. They coloured. "Very well. You +may go, both of you, but don't let it happen again. I am sorry that you +will not be here to receive your Christmas presents. I shall distribute +the envelopes to-night. By the way, the grandmother season ends about +the middle of October, Watson. Good night, and--a Merry Christmas to +both of you." + +"Beg pardon, sir," stammered Watson, sheepishly. "I'm ashamed of +myself, sir. It shan't 'appen again, not so long as I'm in your +service." The coachman shuffled his left foot uneasily and appeared to +find something of great interest in the rug on which he was standing. +At any rate, he scrutinised it very intently. Mr. Bingle smiled as he +turned away. + +Miss Fairweather suddenly leaned over and whispered into the ear of +young Wilberforce. He paid no attention to her, so she shook him gently +by the arm. A moment later, obeying an unspoken command, he sheepishly +removed two large wads of cotton from his ears. + +"Don't you want to hear about Old Scrooge and Tiny Tim?" she whispered. + +"I wish I'd thought of doing that," lamented Mr. Force audibly. He had +witnessed the little incident. + +"I'd sooner hear about Melissa's pirates and sea-cooks," whispered +Wilberforce shrilly. + +"Order, please!" commanded Mr. Bingle, taking his place at the +reading-table. "Please be seated, Mr. Force. Hi! Look out! Not on top +of Rosemary." + +"Good heavens! I might have squashed her--or him. What are you? A boy +or a girl?" + +"I'm a woming," piped up Rosemary from the depths of the biggest chair +in the room. + +Mr. Bingle cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. Then he +benignly surveyed the audience. The row of servants bobbed their heads +and shifted from one foot to the other. + +"Friends all," began the master, "I give you greeting. On this glad +evening no line is drawn between master and man, no--What is it, Delia?" + +The cook had stepped forward. "Excuse me for interruptin', sor, but for +sivin years I've stud through the Christmas Carol, from ind to ind, and +I'm sivin years older than whin I began. I'm no longer young and +hearty. I'm--" + +"Well, why do you hesitate? Go on. Do you mean to say you don't want to +hear it again?" + +"God knows, sor, I'm willing to give up wan evenin' to society. We all +are, for that matter. But it takes an hour an' a half to read the +blissed story. If we could only sit down during the recital, sor, +it--it wouldn't be so bad. But as it is, sor, we have to stand and only +our legs and feet can go to sleep. If--" + +"I see!" cried Mr. Bingle. "You put me to shame, Delia. I never thought +of it in that light. You must have chairs. We will delay the reading +while you go to the dining-room and--" + +"It's all right, sor. We've got the dining-room chairs in the hall. It +was me as thought of thim, sor. Go wan wid yez now, lads, and rush thim +in." + +Mrs. Bingle took advantage of this unusual delay--or respite--and +explained to Mrs. Force that she would never go back to Madame Marie +for another gown. All one had to do was to look at the dress she was +wearing to-night for the first time. "It has just come and it +cost--well, you know what a gown like that would cost at Marie's! And +just look at it!" Mrs. Force did look at it--commiseratingly--and said +she would be pleased to take Mrs. Bingle in to see her dressmaker, and +so on and so forth. Mrs. Bingle expressed some doubt as to any +modiste's ability to make her look like Mrs. Force and Mrs. Force +pooh-poohed graciously. + +Mr. Force bit off the end of a cigar and glumly watched the revivified +servants arranging the chairs. Occasionally he sent a puzzled glance at +little Kathleen. + +Mr. Bingle rubbed his spectacles, while Mr. Flanders confined his +attention solely to the slim, graceful head and neck of the new +governess. He wore the look of one who has much to do to contain +himself in patience. As for Miss Fairweather, a warm glow had settled +upon her fair cheek and her eyes were bright. + +"I always cry when any one reads aloud about Tiny Tim," she said to Mr. +Force, who, for obvious reasons, failed to hear her above the +chattering of the children. But Flanders heard. + +"Tiny Tim always makes me cry too," he said, very distinctly. He was +rewarded by a slightly increased colour in the young lady's cheek. + +"I cry my eyes out over Tiny Tim," Miss Quinlan was saying to Miss +Stokes, and at the same instant Miss Brown was telling Miss Wright that +Tiny Tim was always good for a bucketful, so far as she was concerned. + +Imogene was sound asleep, and there were faint sobs in her breathing. + +"Before we begin, Swanson," said Mr. Bingle, addressing the +furnace-man, "you might put a couple of fresh Yule logs on the fire. +Pick out good, big ones while you're about it." + +"Will dose har fance-post do, Mast' Bingle?" whispered Swanson +hoarsely, as he held up a chunk of firewood for approval. + +The fire was crackling merrily by the time the servants were seated and +Diggs had turned out the ceiling and wall lights from the switch, +leaving the big room in semi-darkness. The blazing logs sent a bright, +nickering glow into the faces of Mr. Bingle's auditors. He bowed +gravely and took up the cherished well-worn book. + +"My dear friends, we have once more reached a milestone in the march of +Christendom. As you know, children, it comes but once a year, like New +Year's and Fourth of July." + +"Hear! Hear!" volunteered three or four of the men-servants diffidently. + +"We are all servants of the Lord whose anniversary we celebrate. We +gather here about a warm fireside, with the historic yule log +blazing--er--figuratively speaking, of course. These logs, naturally, +are not historic. They--er--ahem! Ahem!" He floundered. "Still, we +gather about them, just the same, warm and snug and full of good cheer. +Outside, the night is cold and blustery. The wind howls around the--" + +The door-bell jangled in the distance. Mr. Bingle hesitated for an +instant and then went on: + +"Howls around the corners with the fury of the wintry--ahem!--blast. +And it snows. 'It snows, cries the schoolboy!' You remember the verses, +children. You--See who's there, Diggs. Perhaps it is some neighbour +come to wish us--and, Diggs, no matter who it is, ask him--or them--to +come right in here. I'll--I'll wait a few minutes. Hurry along, +please." Resuming his address he beamed upon the row of wriggling +children. "We have before us eleven little ladies and gentlemen, all +eager for the Christmas dawn. See the stockings? To-morrow morning you +will find that Santy has filled them to the top. Next year Santy will +come provided with gifts for twelve, an even dozen. How many are eleven +and one, Reginald? Speak up. Eleven and one. Good! That's right, my +lad. The year after he will bring gifts for fourteen. We shall avoid +the unlucky number thirteen. Remember, children, that next Christmas +you are to have a little brother. You--" + +"I want a sister," shouted Wilberforce. + +"Sh!" said four nurses at once. + +"As for you, my faithful servitors, it will not be necessary for you to +hang up your little stockings. Santy will find a way to--What is it, +Diggs?" + +"If you please, sir, may I speak with you for a moment?" said Diggs +mysteriously, from the doorway. He appeared to be under the strain of a +not inconsiderable excitement. + +Mr. Bingle hesitated. "If it's your grandmother who is ill, Diggs, I'm +afraid--" + +"It's a man, sir, who says he must see you at once," said Diggs, +lowering his voice and sending a cautious glance over his shoulder. + +"If he is seeking food or shelter, do not turn him away. Give freely +from my purse and larder. It is Christmas Eve. We--" + +"I'll step out and see him, Bingle," volunteered Mr. Force, with some +alacrity. "Go ahead with the reading." + +"He says he must see you, Mr. Bingle," said Diggs. "He isn't after +halms, sir." + +"Ask him to come in and hear the story. I've no doubt he would be +benefitted--" + +"Go and see what he wants, Thomas," said Mrs. Bingle. "It may be +important. I am sure Mr. and Mrs. Force will not mind the delay. Will +you?" + +"Not at all," said Mrs. Force resignedly. + +"I shan't mind, if the rest don't," added Mr. Force, turning an ironic +eye upon the row of servants. + +"Well, I'll just step out and see what it's all about," said Mr. Bingle +reluctantly. + +"Better see that the chap isn't a bomb-thrower, come to demand money of +you, Bingle," said Force. Mr. Bingle waved his hand airily as he +threaded his way among the chairs. "Does he look like a black-hander, +Diggs?" + +"No, sir," replied Diggs. Then he let the truth slip out. "He says he +is from a detective agency, but I couldn't catch the name of it." + +Mr. Bingle halted. "Detective agency, Diggs?" + +"So he said, sir." + +Flanders arose. "Perhaps you'd like to have me go with you, Mr. Bingle. +I know most of these fellows. If I can be of any assistance--" + +"Thank you, no," said Mr. Bingle nervously. "I--I think I'd better see +him alone. Now, Mary, don't look frightened. I haven't the remotest +idea what he wants, but as I haven't been up to anything--ahem! Keep +your seat, Frederick!" + +"I want to see a detective," pleaded Frederick. "Is he disguised, +Diggs? Has he got on false whiskers? Please, daddy--" + +"Maybe it's old Santy," cried Wilberforce in a voice that thrilled. + +Mr. Bingle left a pleasant atmosphere of excitement behind him when he +disappeared between the portieres. At once the company broke into +eager, speculative whispers that soon grew to a perfect storm of shrill +inquiry. Every one was guessing, and every one was guessing as loudly +as possible in order to be heard above the clamour. It might have been +observed that at least three or four of the servants shot furtive +glances in the direction of the hall, and appeared to be anxious and +uncomfortable. + +While the excitement was at its height, Flanders deliberately planted +himself at Miss Fairweather's elbow. She looked up into his face. Every +vestige of colour had left her own. Her eyes were wide with alarm. + +"Come with me, Amy," he said in a low tone. "I must have a word with +you. Make believe that you are showing me the--the pictures. We can +talk safely in that corner over there." + +She arose without a word and followed him to a far corner of the room, +where they would be quite free from interruption. + +"Oh, Dick!" she murmured, in great distress. + +"Do you know anything? Who is this detective? Has he come to--" + +"Sh! Why, you're actually shivering! Here, sit down in the window +seat--behind the curtain, dearest. What have you to be afraid of? +You've done no wrong." + +She sank down on the window seat. The thick lace curtain shielded her +agitated face from the view of all inquiring eyes save those of the +tall, eager young man who sat down beside her. + +"They don't know that I was on the stage, Dick. They wouldn't have me +here if they knew that I've been an actress. I--Oh, I hope--" + +"Brace up, darling! This detective isn't interested in you. What motive +could he have in looking you up? Bingle is in the dark, so it's evident +he hasn't hired any one to investigate your past. Forget it! That isn't +what I want to talk to you about. I've been half-crazy, dear, for the +past eight months. Why did you run away without giving me a chance to +square myself after that miserable night? Don't get up! I've found you +and I'm determined to have it out with you, Amy. You've just got to +hear what I have to say." His hand was upon her arm, a firm restraining +grasp that checked her attempt to escape. Undismayed by the look of +scorn that leaped into her eyes, he leaned closer and spoke in quick +agitated whispers. + +Fully half an hour elapsed before Mr. Bingle returned to the room. His +face was noticeably grey and pinched, and all of the ebullience of +spirit had disappeared. His wife eyed him anxiously, apprehensively. +Slowly, almost with an effort, he made his way to the reading-table, +purposely avoiding the gaze of the inquiring assemblage. His hand shook +perceptibly as he took up the book and cleared his throat--this time +feebly and without the usual authority, it might have been observed. + +"Anything wrong, Bingle?" inquired Force, regarding him curiously. + +"Nothing, nothing at all," said Mr. Bingle, vainly affecting a smile +that was meant to put every one at ease. "No crime has been committed, +so don't be nervous, any of you. Just a little private matter of--of"-- + +His gaze went swiftly to the eager, uplifted face of little Kathleen, +and he never completed the sentence. As he turned his face away, +ostensibly to find his place in the book, his lower lip trembled, and a +mist came over his eyes. + +The dramatic enthusiasm with which he was wont to read the Dickens +story was sadly lacking. He read lifelessly, uncertainly, and at times +almost inaudibly. There was a queer huskiness in his voice that made it +necessary for him to clear his throat frequently. + +[Illustration with caption: Amy Fairweather and Flanders] + +Under ordinary conditions, he would have observed the singular +aloofness of Miss Fairweather and the reporter who was there by virtue +of an assignment. They retained their somewhat sequestered position in +the window seat, effectually screened by the curtains, and whispered +softly to each other, utterly oblivious to the monotonous drone of the +reader, quite in a little world of their own. + +Flanders was pleading earnestly with the rigid-faced girl. Her +cautious, infrequent responses were not of an encouraging nature, that +was plain to be seen, but he too was obdurate. He held one of her slim +hands in a grip that could not be broken, as she had discovered to her +dismay. Mr. Bingle read on, ignorant of the little drama that went on +under his very nose, so to speak, and those of his auditors who were +not nodding their heads in frank drowsiness, were so completely wrapped +up in extraneous thoughts concerning the visit of the detective that +they had eyes for no one except the person who could explain the +mystery. + +Mr. Bingle's voice began to quaver much earlier in the story than +usual. He was always moved to tears, but as a rule he was able to +suppress them until along toward the end of the story. But now he was +in distress from the beginning. He choked up completely, in a most +uncalled-for manner and at singularly unexpected places. He managed to +struggle through the first twenty or thirty pages, and then, seeing for +himself that he was nearing the first of the weepy places and realising +that he was sure to burst into tears if he continued, he deliberately +closed the book, keeping his forefinger between the leaves, and +announced in a strained voice that he would skip over to the final +chapter if the audience did not object. He gave no excuse. It is +doubtful, however, if he was gratified by the profound sigh of relief +that went up from the group of listeners. + +At last, he came to the end of the story. He had no voice at all for +the concluding paragraphs: a hoarse, grotesque whisper, that was all. +When the servants had departed and the children were scampering off to +bed, thrilled by promises of the morrow, Mr. Single's arm stole about +his wife's shoulders and she was drawn suddenly, even violently close +to his side. He avoided her puzzled, worried gaze and resolutely +addressed himself to Mr. and Mrs. Force and Mr. Flanders. Miss +Fairweather had disappeared. + +"That man was a detective," said he, without preamble. "His agency was +employed nearly a year ago to discover the whereabouts of a certain +child, whose father, repenting a wrong perpetrated years ago, desires +to do the right thing by his luckless offspring. After all these +months, this detective has located the little girl. She is in this +house. She is my favourite--and yours, Mary, God help us." + +"Kathleen?" whispered Mrs. Bingle dully. + +"Kathleen?" repeated Sydney Force, staring blankly at the little man. + +"Yes," said Mr. Bingle, and sat down suddenly in a big arm chair, +burying his face in his hands. + +No one spoke for many minutes. Flanders had the grace to turn away from +the group. He was an unusual type of newspaper reporter. Here was +something that would make a splendid "story," and yet he was fine +enough to turn his back upon the opportunity that lay open to him. + +Mr. Force's hands were gripping the back of a chair so rigidly that the +knuckles were white and gleaming. + +"For a year, did you say, Bingle?" he questioned, steadying his voice +with an effort. + +"Almost a year," gulped the little man, looking up through streaming +eyes. "Her mother died when Kathie was about a year old. The father +never saw his child. He had deceived the woman. He cast her off +and--married another, I take it, although I am a bit hazy. I was so +upset that I--I scarcely remember what the man said. Now the--the +father wants to find his child. He--he wants to give her a home--Oh, +Lordy, Lordy! I can't bear the thought of it. Sh! Don't cry, Mary. +Maybe he'll let us keep her. He is married. Perhaps he can't afford to +acknowledge her as his child under the circumstances. I--I put it up to +the detective. He actually grinned in my face and said he was quite +positive his client would be as sensible as most men have to be in +similar straits." + +"Are you sure that Kathleen is the one he is looking for, Mr. Bingle?" +inquired Mrs. Force. "They sometimes follow false clues, or something +of the sort. I once heard of a detective who--" + +"No such luck," groaned Mr. Bingle. "He has Kathie's history from the +day she was born. There--there isn't any chance for a mistake. She is +the one. Our eldest, our loveliest--Oh, Mary!" + +Force shot an unmistakable look of alarm at the newspaper man who stood +in the doorway, staring out into the hall. + +"Do you know the mother's name, Bingle?" he inquired. His voice sounded +so strange and unnatural that his wife glanced at him sharply. + +"Yes. I know her real name. On the records at the hospital she was +known as Mrs. Hinman. But, you see, she wasn't married. Her name was +Glenn." + +Sydney Force's face was bloodless. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK + + +The affairs of Amy Fairweather and Richard Flanders require +explanation. When two good-looking young people meet as these two met, +and betray such surprising emotion, it goes without saying that at +least one episode in their joint history deserves the undivided +attention of the onlooker, who, in this case, happens to be you, kind +reader. It must be perfectly clear to you that Miss Fairweather and Mr. +Flanders were, at one time in their lives, more than moderately +interested in each other. That part of their story does not require +elucidation. Indeed, only an intelligence of the most extraordinary +denseness would demand the bald, matter-of-fact declaration that they +had been in love with each other. What we are concerned about, +therefore, is an episode of the early spring in the present year of our +story. + +It is quite simple, after all. We have only to go back a year to get to +the bottom of the matter. Miss Fairweather and Mr. Flanders were fellow +lodgers in a boarding-house not far removed from Times Square. She was +playing a small part in one of the Broadway theatres and was known on +the programme as Amy Colgate, the customary sop to "family feelings" +causing her to abandon her own name during the neophytic period of her +career. This was a temporary concession, however; she intended to make +the family name famous as soon as she got a "part" that would give her +a real chance. Flanders was on the newspaper, but his aspirations were +quite as lofty as any one's: he was writing a play. He had already +written two novels, both of which remained unpublished. + +At the outset, his play was intended for Miss Barrymore, but after the +second week of his acquaintance with the attractive Miss Colgate his +ambitions proved fickle: he discarded Miss Barrymore and substituted +Miss Colgate for the star part in the piece. Fortunately he had written +but six or eight pages of the first act, so the transfer was not a +deleterious undertaking. He could see no one else in the part; he could +think of no one else as he dreamed of the play's success. Moreover, +Miss Colgate was as pleased as Punch over this flattering tribute to +her magnetism--for the part, as described, was one that would not "get +over" unless created by an actress of pronounced magnetic appeal--and +lost no time in falling deeply in love with the manly playwright. They +were serious-minded, ambitious young people. It is of small consequence +that he was an untried, unskilled dramatist, and of equally small +moment that she was little more than an amateur. They saw a bright +light ahead and trudged steadily toward it, prodding themselves--and +each other--with all the vain-glorious artifices known to and employed +by the young and undefeated. The young man's dramatic aspirations were +somewhat retarded, however, by the fact that he was so desperately +enamoured that he couldn't confine his thoughts to the play; so the +growth of the first act was slow and tortuous. Under other conditions +he would have despaired of ever completing the thing. As it was, his +despair was of an entirely different character and had to do with the +belief that Miss Colgate loved some one else instead of him. + +But even doubt and uncertainty possess virtue in that they often lead +to rashness, sometimes folly. In this case, Mr. Flanders proposed +marriage, albeit he couldn't, for the life of him, see how he was going +to manage on a salary of twenty-five dollars a week. That was the +rashness of it. Miss Colgate attended to the folly. She said she would +marry him if it meant starvation. So there you are. + +After that, ambition revived and worked smoothly, rapidly. In the +middle of the second act, however, the play failed--that is to say, the +play in which Miss Colgate was appearing on Broadway. (It failed in the +middle of Mr. Flanders' second act, lest I appear ambiguous.) The young +actress found herself out of employment and without much prospect of +getting an engagement at that season of the year--a bad year it was, +too, if you will remember what theatrical people had to say about it. +Now, she was not obliged to work for a living. She could have gone back +to her family in Connecticut. But she was not made of that sort of +stuff. She could have gone back home and married the most desirable +young or old man in the town. She could have given up the stage and +devoted herself to the teaching of music, French or wood-carving, in +which pursuits she was far less of an amateur than at play-acting. But +she was a valiant, undaunted little warrior. She announced that she was +ready to do anything that offered, even chorus-work. + +And one evening she told him that she had found a place in the chorus +of a "road show." She tried to hide her mortification under a somewhat +quivering jauntiness, but Mr. Flanders went rudely to the bottom of the +matter. She argued that she could change her name and no one would be +the wiser. She would positively refuse to appear in tights. Then came +the episode. Mr. Flanders flew into a scornful rage. He said a great +many things that he was afterwards ashamed to recall. Among other +things, he said he'd be hanged if he'd marry a chorus-girl; as for +tights, she wouldn't have any choice in the matter, once the manager +set his mind to it. She had not been in love with him long enough to +submit to bullying, so she sent him about his business. Moreover, she +coldly informed him that their engagement was over and that she never +wanted to see his face again. + +Inasmuch as it would be quite impossible to remain in the same +boarding-house without seeing his face once in a while, she moved out +the very next day. + +The "road" was not what she had expected, nor was the life of a +chorus-girl as simple as it had seemed from her virtuous point of view. +Before the first two weeks were over, she deserted the company, +disillusioned, mortified. It HAD come to a matter of tights. + +She returned to New York and bravely resumed her visits to managerial +offices and to the lairs of agents, in quest of an engagement not quite +so incompatible with her sense of delicacy and refinement as the one +she had just abandoned. But there was nothing to be had. More than once +she was tempted to write to Flanders, begging him to forgive her and to +forget, if he could, the silly mistake she had made. But love and +loneliness were no match for the pride that was a part of her nature. +She resolutely put away the temptation to do the perfectly sensible +thing, and, woman-like, fortified herself against surrender by running +away from danger. + +She had heard of the Bingles through a woman playwright who wanted to +dramatize the Bingle enterprise. Nothing, said this enthusiastic +person, could be more adorable than a play based on the Bingle methods +of acquiring a family. + +One day, in Central Park, she saw Mr. Bingle and seven of the children. +He looked happy but inadequate. A grinning park policeman enlightened +her as to the identity of the bewildered little man. A single glance +was all that was necessary to convince her that Mr. Bingle was having +his hands full. + +He had lost all control of the little ruffians. (The park policeman was +the first to call them ruffians, so I may be pardoned.) They insisted +on playing games that Mr. Bingle couldn't play, and he was beginning to +look worried. Time and again he tried to herd them into the big station +'bus in which he had brought them over from Seafood (the Bingle +estate), and always with so little success that he was getting hot and +tired--and farther away from the conveyance all the time. Still he +smiled cheerfully and gave no sign of losing his temper. + +They were frolicking in the neighbourhood of the lake at the north end +of the park, and Miss Colgate was sitting on one of the benches not far +removed from the scene of activity. She began to feel sorry for the +little foster-father. He was having a time of it! The first thing he +knew, one of the little insurgents would tumble into the lake +and--well, she couldn't imagine anything more droll than Mr. Bingle +venturing into the water as a rescuer. At last, moved by an impulse +that afterwards took its place as the psychic capstone in her career, +she arose and resolutely went to his relief. He was panting and +perspiring, for the spring day was warm. + +"May I help you to gather them up?" she inquired. + +Now, Mr. Bingle was not accustomed to seeing girls as pretty as the one +who accosted him so amiably. At first, he said no, he was very much +obliged, he guessed he could manage 'em, thank you. He wasn't quite +sure that it was right for him to "take up" with a strange and +beautiful young woman in a public park. One never could tell about +these well-dressed women who sit on park benches, and yet appear to be +perfectly free from tuberculosis. But Miss Colgate insisted, and Mr. +Bingle, taking a second look at her, said he would be grateful if she'd +stay and watch the littlest ones while he rounded up the big ones. She +shook her head, smiling, and gently ordered him to sit down and cool +off a bit while she gathered in the recalcitrants. + +"You look so hot and tired," she said, and her smile was so frankly +sympathetic, so commanding in its sweetness, that Mr. Bingle promptly +sat down and said that it beat all how hot the weather was for early +May. Perhaps they WOULD come for her, he went on shyly; if she didn't +mind calling Frederick, that would be sufficient. Frederick was the +rebel leader. He ought to be spanked. She smiled again, and Mr. Bingle +said to himself that he'd never seen anything so nice. As she walked +away, bent on rounding-up the three boys and Kathleen, he was impressed +by the slim, graceful figure and the manner in which she carried +herself. Nothing ordinary or common about THAT girl, said he; nothing +bold or immodest. Out of the goodness of her heart she had proffered +assistance, as any gently born person would have done. His heart warmed +toward her. It wasn't often that one encountered a pretty girl who was +considerate, sweet-natured and polite to her elders, especially in New +York City. He almost forgot Henrietta and Guinevere in his +contemplation of this extraordinary phenomenon. Indeed, Henrietta's +blubberings went quite unnoticed for some little time, and it was not +until Guinevere sent up a sympathetic howl that he remembered the +"littlest ones" and hastily took them upon his knees, dropping his hat +in his haste. + +He was considerably amazed by the swiftness with which his ally +"rounded-up" the five roisterers. She went about it sweetly, even +gaily, yet with a certain authority that had an instant effect on the +youngsters. Almost before he knew what had happened, she was +approaching him with the flushed, mischievous "kiddies" in tow. They +were staring at the strange, beautiful young lady with wide-open, +fascinated eyes. They were abashed, puzzled; meek with wonder. When she +extended her hands to Kathleen and Marie Louise, they came to her shyly +and then, without so much as a glance at the three boys, she calmly led +them back to the marvelling little millionaire. It was a crafty way of +bringing the boys, to time. Their curiosity, cupidity, envy--what you +will--brought them scurrying up to the group, and not a face was +missing from the ranks when she stopped before Mr. Bingle and said: + +"And now that we have them, bound hand and foot, what are we to do with +them? Put them in a dungeon and feed them on bread and water?" + +"I don't see how you did it," said Mr. Bingle. "It was really quite +wonderful. Perhaps it was because you are so very pretty. I think, if +you don't object, I'll put 'em in the 'bus, take 'em home and feed them +on milk and honey and jam. Thank you, thank you ever so much." + +"I love children and I believe that children like me," said she, her +fingers gently caressing Kathleen's brown, tumbled locks. "That +explains it, I am sure. Now, boys, run on ahead and tell the chauffeur +your father is coming. And, listen to me: your father is tired and +very, very warm. You must not cause him any more distress. I am sure +you won't, will you?" + +Then she wiped the tears from the cheeks of the "littlest ones," +straightened their bonnets, and, in the end, proposed that she should +carry one of them to the 'bus. + +Down in her heart, she was coddling the wild, improbable hope that Mr. +Richard Flanders might be somewhere in the neighbourhood, watching her +with proud, but remorseful eyes! + +Mr. Bingle turned to her after the children were safely stowed away in +the 'bus and ready for the long ride home. He had his hat in his hand +and he bowed very low, with the old-fashioned courtesy that time and +environment had failed to modify. + +"My dear young lady, you remind me of the fairy princess that I knew so +well as a boy. You spring up out of the ground and--Whist! you perform +deeds of magic and enchantment. I am sorry that we cannot have you +hovering about us forevermore. We are all enchanted." + +"Thank you," she said, with her gay smile. "Do you still believe in +fairies?" + +"I do," said he. + +"And witches?" + +"Absolutely," said he, with boyish enthusiasm. "And wizards, too--and, +I'm ashamed to admit it--ghosts. Good-bye. Thank you for the spell +you've cast upon us. I think it has done all of us a lot of good. I +undertook a task that was beyond me, bringing these youngsters here for +a lark. But you see, I had promised them the trip, and I don't believe +in going back on a promise. The governess left us yesterday, most +unexpectedly. She said her sister was ill, but--well, I shouldn't say +anything unkind. Perhaps her sister really is ill. So, then, I brought +them all by myself. Mrs. Bingle is in the city looking for a new +governess. She--" + +"Would you consider--" began Miss Colgate eagerly, and then flushed to +the roots of her hair, What had come over her? Was she on the point of +applying for a position as governess in a family of--But why not? Why +not? She was tired, discouraged, and a failure at the work she had +tried so hard to perform. + +"Yes?" + +She laughed confusedly. "It was nothing, Mr. Bingle, nothing at all. +Good-bye. I hope you'll get them home safe, sound and--intact. They are +dears." + +Mr. Bingle surveyed his brood. Every eye was riveted on the face of the +strange, lovely lady, and in each was the look of complete subjugation. + +"You've hypnotised them," said he, wonderingly. + +She looked away. After a moment's hesitation, she cast the die--urged +by the queerest impulse that had ever come over her. + +"Would you consider me, Mr. Bingle, for the position that has just been +given up by the--the woman whose sister is ill?" + +He heard, but he could not believe his ears. "I--I beg pardon?" he said. + +She faced him, now resolute and eager. "I am not a fairy princess, I am +not a witch. As a matter of fact, I am a very commonplace person who is +obliged to earn a living one way or another, and it isn't always a +simple thing to do. Tip to this instant, I hadn't the remotest thought +of becoming a governess. I don't know what came over me unless it was +loneliness, thinking of my little brothers and sisters at home. When I +first saw you and the children nothing was farther from my mind than +the thought that has just come into it. I DO love children. I want +work, Mr. Bingle. I am self-supporting. No matter what may have been my +ambition up to five minutes ago, I am content to put it aside, I am +willing to undertake--" + +"My dear young lady," broke in Mr. Bingle, who had been slow to grasp +her meaning and even slower to recover from his stupefaction; "you--you +really have knocked me silly. I hadn't the faintest idea--" + +"May I apply to Mrs. Bingle to-morrow?" she asked nervously, +interrupting him with unintentional rudeness. "I have no references to +give as a governess, but I--I think I can convince Mrs. Bingle that I +would be quite capable. Do you think there would be a chance for me if +I--" + +Mr. Bingle broke in once more, this time with acute enthusiasm. "Don't +wait till to-morrow," he exclaimed. "Do it to-day! To-morrow may be too +late. Harkins, drive to the nearest public telephone. We will call up +the intelligence office and see if Mrs. Bingle has been there yet. If +she hasn't--" + +"Is she looking for a governess in an intelligence office?" cried Miss +Colgate, in dismay. + +"Certainly! Where else? Oh, I see," he made haste to add, sensing her +expression; "it isn't the place to find high-grade governesses, eh? +Well, all the better for us! We'll head her off. Climb in, Miss--Miss--" + +"Fairweather, Mr. Bingle," said she, and it was the first time in two +years that she had called herself by that name. Of all the millions of +human beings in New York, but one knew that her name was +Fairweather--and she had quarrelled with him. She had told Dick +Flanders. He was the kind of man that women tell things to without +reserve or without considering the consequences. + +"Move up, Frederick," commanded Mr. Bingle. "Make room for Miss +Fairweather. She's going to be the new governess. Lively, Harkins! The +nearest telephone. No! Not that saloon over there. Tackle an apartment +house. Well, well, Miss Fairweather, this is just like a fairy story +after all. I told you that I believed in fairies, didn't I?" + +And that is how Miss Fairweather came to be governess in the Bingle +family, a position for which she was suited by nature but for which she +was utterly unqualified when it came to experience. And that is how she +managed to disappear so completely that Richard Flanders, love-sick and +repentant, could find no trace of her. There were days--and long, long +nights--when she ate her heart out in the hunger for him, but she could +not bring herself to the point where starvation made it imperative for +her to go begging. There was always before her the distressing fear +that he might have ceased, to care for her--ay, that he might have gone +so far as to transfer his affections to some one else as the result of +her stupid notions concerning independence. + +No doubt he was going his way without a thought of her, pleasantly +forgetting her or, at best, merely remembering her as one who had +proved a brief but satisfactory blessing, as many a passing sweetheart +has been to a man in his flight through time. No, she argued in +conflict with her inclinations, it was not to be thought of, this +senseless desire to go back and begin all over again. Everything was +over between them. She had made her choice on that +never-to-be-forgotten night and she had gone out of his life. There was +no use bewailing the fact that she was in the wrong and that his +contentions had been justified. She had made her bed, and she would lie +in it. The fault was with her, not with him--and yet she could never +quite forgive him for being right! She couldn't forget how angry she +was before she realised that his judgment was better than hers. As a +matter of fact, she couldn't help being a perfectly normal woman: she +enjoyed misery. + +It must be recorded that she imposed upon the Bingles in one respect: +she did not mention the fact that she was or had been an actress. On +the other hand, she did not deceive them as to her lack of experience +as a teacher of young children. She confessed that the work was new to +her, but she confessed it so naively, so frankly, that they were +charmed into overlooking the most important detail in the matter of +engaging a governess. In fact, Mr. Bingle very properly said to his +wife that as she was expected to devote her time to children who had no +pedigree, "it wouldn't be along the line of common sense to exact +references from her." Besides, said he, she was so sure to be +satisfactory. It was only necessary to look into her honest eyes to +feel sure about that. And Mrs. Bingle, who was just then in the throes +of adopting Imogene, agreed to everything that Imogene's prospective +father had to say. + +In the meantime, Mr. Flanders had remained doggedly constant. He had +surrendered, as a man will, to reason, and had set about to find the +girl of his choice, determined to make his peace with her. But nowhere +was she to be found. He laid aside the unfinished play. What was the +sense of writing a play if there was no one to play the principal part? +He was disconsolate. He cursed himself for the stupid thing he had +done. He had wrecked his life, that's what he had done--poor fool! + +And then came the unexpected meeting in the home of Thomas Singleton +Bingle, and the detached scene in the shelter of the window-nook. + +Mr. Bingle experienced a second shock just before Flanders darted out +of the house to jump into the waiting automobile which was to take him +to the station for the 10:17 train. + +"Well, good night, Mr. Bingle," cried the tall young reporter, sticking +his head through the library door in response to the host's invitation +to "come in." "Thank you for the greatest evening of my life. It's just +like a fairy story. Oh, yes, before I forget it: I want to tell you how +much I enjoyed 'The Chimes.' I never knew that Dickens could write +anything so--" + +"'The Chimes'?" cried Mr. Bingle, abruptly leaving the little group at +the fireplace and bearing down upon the unconscious offender. "What do +you mean? It wasn't 'The Chimes' that I--" + +"Certainly not," exclaimed Mr. Flanders, glibly. "Of course, it wasn't. +I never think of 'The Christmas Carol' without first thinking of 'The +Chimes.' Thank you for getting the automobile out to take me to--" + +"No trouble at all, my dear fellow," cried Mr. Bingle, shaking hands +with the departing guest. "I wish you a Merry Christmas." + +Flanders' face was glowing. "It will be the merriest Christmas I've +ever known, Mr. Bingle," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "I owe +it to you, too. By Jove, sir, I believe I am the happiest man in all +the world." He almost shook the little man's arm out of its socket. + +Mr. Bingle's smile was meant to be beaming. He made a valiant effort to +rise above the catastrophe that was to make his Christmas the most +miserable he had ever known. + +"Come to see us every Christmas Eve, my boy, if it puts you in such +good spirits to see the--the kiddies--" his voice quavered a +little--"and to hear the 'Carol.' You will always find the latchstring +out." + +"No other Christmas Eve will be as glorious as this one, sir," said +Dick, gently dragging his host into the hall and lowering his voice to +a thrilling undertone. "Not in a million years. Why, it is positively +bewildering. I wonder if I'm awake. Is it really true? I--I can't +believe that it really happened. Take a good, long look at me, please. +You DO see me, don't you? I am really standing here in your house--" + +"What in the world are you talking about?" gasped Mr. Bingle, drawing +back a step or two. Mr. Flanders grabbed him by the arm. "Ouch!" + +"I beg pardon, sir--I didn't mean to be rough," cried Flanders. "I'm so +excited I don't know what I'm doing, that's all. A man may be excused +for a lot of brainstorm antics when he's going to be married again. +It--" + +"Married again? I thought you said you'd never--" + +"What I mean is this: I was going to be married once and now I'm going +to be married again. See? Oh, you know what I mean. I'm just +driveling--simply driveling with joy. We fixed it all up fifteen +minutes after we got together. You might congratulate me, Mr. Bingle." + +"God bless my soul! Congratulate you on what?" + +"I'm going to marry your governess." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE MAN CALLED HINMAN + + +Bright and early on Christmas morning, Mr. Sydney Force walked slowly, +even irresolutely up the broad avenue leading to Mr. Bingle's +stupendous door-step. The snow had been cleared off of the narrow +footpath, but the president of the great city bank was so deeply +engrossed that he failed to take advantage of this singular +demonstration of worthiness on the part of Edgecomb and his assistants +so soon after the break of dawn. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten +that it was Christmas morning. He walked in the middle of the roadway, +in four inches of snow, and kept his gaze fixed rather intently on the +big house at the top of the avenue. + +Mr. Force had not slept well. Indeed, he had not slept at all. The +shock he had received early in the evening was of the kind that +shatters one's peace of mind to a degree but little short of +calamitous. A plunge into ice-cold water would have failed to produce +the deadly chill that crept over him when he heard the name of Glenn. +How he succeeded in controlling himself so well that his profound +agitation escaped the attention of the others, he could not explain. He +was amazed to find that he had managed it so well. For, it must be +confessed, Mr. Force's habitual equanimity had undergone a strain that +came so near to resulting in a collapse that only a miracle--(it may +have taken the form of stupefaction, or a kindly paralysis)--only a +miracle could have kept him from betraying the one great secret of his +life. + +Ordinarily, he would have put off calling on the Bingles for a month or +six weeks, being that scornful of social amenities; but he could hardly +wait for the approach of sunrise to be on his way to Seafood on this +brilliant Christmas morning. It was not a brilliant, shimmering day for +him, however. He saw nothing beautiful in the steel-blue sky: to him it +was a drab, unlovely pall. He saw no beauty in the snow-clad foliage, +no splendour in the bejewelled tree-tops, no purity in the veil of +white that lay upon the face of the earth. He saw only himself, and he +was a drear, bleak thing as viewed introspectively. + +Nor is it to be taken for granted that Mr. Bingle slept well on this +night before Christmas. Neither he nor his wife went to bed until far +along in the wee sma' hours. The great house was as still as the grave, +save for the occasional crack of shrinking woodwork and the rattle of +dislodged icicles on the window-ledges outside. The wind had died away. +It seemed that all nature, respecting their mood, had hushed its every +noise in order that they might think, and think, and think on without +hope or a single sign of promise in this time of despair. + +They were to lose Kathleen. The man had been somewhat vague about it, +but the situation was clear to them, even though it was not so to him. +Their claim to the child--the one they loved best of all--was no longer +undivided. A real father had turned up to assert his rights. They might +dispute his claim and make the affair so awkward and so unpleasant for +him that he would withdraw, but what would be their gain? The man +existed. He was the real father. Kathleen was the flesh and blood of +this tardy penitent, this betrayer of women, this coward. Never again, +so long as she lived, could she be looked upon as theirs. Even though +she remained with them, and in perfect contentment, there would still +be the sinister shadow lying across the path--the shadow of a man +hiding, of a man who dared not come out into the open but whose +everlasting presence was a threat. + +They did not know this man, they did not know whether he was a +blackguard or a gentleman. He was a destroyer; that much they knew. He +had wrecked a human life. The detective had declared to Mr. Bingle that +his client was a man of means, married, and eminently respectable, but +then a detective's idea of respectability is not always a safe one to +go by. Every man is respectable until some one is hired to prove that +he isn't. + +When Mr. Force rang the front door-bell, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were +seated before the fire in the library. Kathleen sat upon the former's +knee. The rest of the children had been sent off to the huge playroom +on the top floor, and their distant shrieks, muffled by the thicknesses +of many doors and walls, came faintly down to the fireside. With the +subdued, even refined jingle of the door-bell, the two Bingles +straightened up in their chairs and looked into each other's eyes, +suddenly apprehensive. Who could be calling on them at such an early +hour? Was it some one in connection with this unhappy business? Could +it be possible that they had come to take Kathleen away so soon? + +"Better run upstairs, now, Kathie," said Mr. Bingle, abruptly. +"Skedaddle! Go up the back way, dear." He thought of the back-stairs +just in time. It wouldn't do for her to encounter the strange, perhaps +unfeeling emissaries in the main hall. No telling what they might do. +They might even take forcible possession of her and be off before help +could be summoned. + +"I want to stay here with you, daddy," protested Kathleen, resolutely +clinging to her perch on his knee--and was not to be dislodged. Before +Mr. Bingle could utter another word, Diggs appeared in the door and +announced Mr. Force. Instantly Kathleen's manner changed. She released +her grip on Mr. Bingle's arm and slid to the floor. "Oh, I hate him! I +don't want to see him." + +"Kathie!" cried Mrs. Bingle, distressed. "You should not say such +things. Mr. Force is very nice to you. He likes you--" + +"He gives me a pain," said Kathleen succinctly. + +"Good heavens!" gasped Mr. Bingle. "Where did you learn such language +as that?" + +"It isn't language, daddy," said Kathie. "It's just slang. Everybody +uses it. Don't people give you a pain sometimes?" + +"Never!" said he. "I don't believe in slang," he added, as if to +fortify himself against a conviction. "You needn't go, deary. Stay and +see Mr. Force." + +"I don't want to see him. I want to see Fairy. Oh, daddy, what are you +going to let her get married for? I know Freddie will commit suicide if +she marries that old Flanders." + +"Freddie? What business is it of his?" + +"I mustn't tell," she said, suddenly realising that she had been on the +point of betraying a grave secret. An instant later she was off like +the wind, whisking out of one door as Mr. Force entered by the other. + +"Dear me, dear me," sighed Mr. Bingle, staring at his wife helplessly; +"what do you suppose has happened to Frederick? A boy of his age +talking of suicide is--Oh, good morning, Mr. Force. Merry Christmas! +'Pon my word, you're an early bird. Come up to the fire. You look half +frozen. Why, by George, your teeth are chattering. Diggs! Throw on a +couple of logs, will you, and get the whiskey. We keep it for medicinal +purposes and--" + +"Not for me," broke in Mr. Force hastily. "Not a thing to drink, old +man. I'm quite all right. It is a bit snappy outside. Good morning, +Mrs. Bingle. How are you feeling since the--I beg your pardon, Bingle, +I really don't want a drink. Silly of me to shiver like this. You'd +think I had a chill, wouldn't you? But I'll be all right in a minute or +two." + +He stood with his back to the blazing logs. His teeth were chattering, +but not because of the cold. Every nerve in his body was on edge; his +physical being was merely responding to the turmoil that filled his +brain. Could they have seen his hands, clasped behind his back, they +might have wondered why the fingers were locked together in a grip so +fierce that the cords stood out in ridges on his wrists. + +"You don't know what you miss, not having children about you on +Christmas morning," said Mr. Bingle, planting his small figure +alongside that of the tall man and attempting to spread his coat tails, +an utter impossibility in view of the fact that he had no tails to +spread, being incased in a dressing gown that reached almost to his +heels when he stood erect but unmistakably touched the floor if he +permitted his dignity to sag in the least--and he was having some +difficulty in maintaining his dignity on this doleful morning, it may +be said. "It would have done your heart good, Force, if you could have +been here this morning--say at half-past six--and seen the circus we +had. Well, sir, it was--" + +"Half-past six? My dear man, you don't mean to say those little rascals +got you out of bed at that ungodly hour. Why, I would have--" + +"Just the other way 'round," said Mr. Bingle, sheepishly. "We had to +fairly yank 'em out of bed. We are the rascals, Force--Mary and I. We +couldn't wait, don't you see? But, of course, you don't see. You +couldn't see unless you'd been counting on Christmas morning for +months. You--But, what's the matter, Force? 'Pon my word, you DO need a +bracer. Mary, dear, won't you see if--" + +"See here, Bingle," blurted out Mr. Force, in desperation, "I want a +few words with you alone. It is--imperative. Hope you will excuse me, +Mrs. Bingle. I'm a bit upset--yes, considerably upset--over something +that has come up in the--er--that is to say, quite recently. I--I want +your husband's advice on--on a matter of grave importance." + +The Bingles stared at him for a moment in speechless concern. Then Mr. +Bingle managed to give expression to the fear that entered his heart as +Force concluded his amazing remarks. + +"Anything--anything wrong at the bank?" he inquired, swallowing hard. +Was the man about to tell him that the bank--the great bank--was going +under, that there had been defalcations, that--but even as he pictured +the collapse of the bank there shot into his brain another and still +more ghastly thought: had the Supreme Court decided against him in the +long-fought case of Hooper et al vs. Bingle? + +"Certainly NOT," exclaimed Mr. Force, with sudden irascibility. His +nerves WERE at a high tension, there was no denying that. "Nothing +whatever to do with the bank, sir. What the dev--what could have put +such a thought into your head, Bingle?" + +"You looked so--so blasted serious," said Mr. Bingle, with surprising +heat. + +"Thomas!" cried his wife, aghast. + +"Beg pardon, Force," muttered Mr. Bingle, very much ashamed of himself. +"I didn't mean to be profane. I guess I'm a little nervous myself." + +"Can't I look serious without putting the bank on its last legs?" +demanded Mr. Force, glaring. + +"Certainly," Mr. Bingle made haste to assure him. "Look as serious as +you please, Force. I know it can't hurt the bank. Don't go, Mary. Mr. +Force and I will slip up to my study. We are less likely to be +interrupted there." + +"I trust Mrs. Force is well," said the lady of Seawood, and there was a +note of anxiety in her voice. There HAD been a queer taste to the +lobster a la Newburg. She remembered mentioning it to Mr. Bingle after +the company had gone. + +Mr. Force was guilty of an uneasy start. What was the woman driving at? +What put it into her head to mention his wife? Why SHOULDN'T his wife +be well? + +"Quite well, thank you," he said at the end of a deep exhalation. +Indeed he was quite without breath when he came to the "thank you." It +would have been better if he hadn't tried to be so courteous. "Quite +well," would have been sufficient. He realised, as he wheezily filled +his lungs, that the "thank you" was entirely superfluous. In any event, +it wasn't so important that he should have gone to the pains of +upsetting his dignity in order to say it, no matter if it was the +proper thing to say. He always hated anything that caused him to become +red in the face. + +"It's quite a relief," said Mrs. Bingle, brightening. It would have +been dreadful if anything HAD been the matter with the lobster. + +But Mr. Force knew nothing whatever about the suspected lobster and +being in considerable doubt as to just how much of Miss Glenn's story +the Bingles had learned, very naturally believed that the good lady was +concerned about Mrs. Force's peace of mind rather than her state of +health. He grew perfectly scarlet and mumbled something about his wife +sleeping like a log, and then hastily followed Mr. Bingle out of the +room. + +"Troubles never come singly, do they, Force?" said Bingle as they +mounted the stairs. He sighed deeply. + +"So they say," said Force, also sighing. He was thinking of the +interview that was to come. He was wondering just how he was going to +explain things to Mr. Bingle. + +"She isn't to be married till spring, but--Oh, well, I suppose I +shouldn't complain." Mr. Force stopped stock-still on the stairs. +"Mar-married?" he gasped. "Are you crazy?" + +"Almost," said Mr. Bingle promptly. "If anything more happens, I'll be +wholly so. Come in, Force. Now, old chap, what's on YOUR mind?" They +had entered the study. Mr. Bingle faced his visitor after closing the +door carefully behind him. "Out with it? Don't keep me in suspense. +Has--has the case finally gone against me?" + +"Who is going to be married in the spring?" demanded Force, wiping his +brow. + +"Miss Fairweather. I thought you knew." + +"Oh, the devil! Of course not! What do I know about Miss Fairweather's +affairs?" + +"Flanders is the man. He's the lucky dog. An old affair, Force. +Tremendously romantic story back of--" + +"Needn't mind, Bingle. I don't care to hear it at present. I've got +something a great deal more important to think about--dammit." He sat +down heavily, and began fumbling for his cigar case. His forehead was +dripping wet. + +"It must be serious," said Mr. Bingle slowly, "or you wouldn't be +swearing as you do, Force. I've never heard you swear before." + +"It is serious. Of all the improbable, dime novel, hellish--But tell +me, Bingle: how much do you know?" + +"How much do I know about what?" + +"Didn't that fellow blab anything to you last night?" + +"Bla--blab?" + +Force pointed to a chair. "Sit down. Are you sure no one can hear what +I'm saying?" + +"No one but yours truly," said Mr. Bingle, assuming a jauntiness he did +not feel. He sat down, his back as stiff as a board. + +His visitor leaned forward, his hands grasping the arms of the chair. +"Well, I'll tell you something, Bingle, that will paralyse you. I--I +didn't sleep a wink last night." + +"That doesn't paralyse me. Neither did I--" + +"This is no time to be funny, Bingle," said the other roughly. "Do you +want to know what kept me awake all night, suffering the torments of +the damned?" + +"I do," responded Mr. Bingle, casting a quick glance at Mr. Force's +jaw. He knew what it was to have a toothache. + +"Well, it was that miserable business about--about Kathleen," said +Force, a querulous note creeping into his voice. Mr. Bingle did not +think it worth while to tell him that it was the same miserable +business that kept him awake. "Now, I want the truth, Bingle. I want to +be sure before I go ahead. It means a great deal to both of us. Was +Kathleen's mother named Agnes Glenn?" + +"It was," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes narrowing with the dawn of +comprehension. + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Once, just before she died." + +"Describe her, Bingle." + +"I can't. Good Lord, man, my eyes were blind with tears all the time I +was--" + +"Never mind," broke in Force. "We won't go into that, after all. Did +she tell you anything about herself, her past life, her--her trouble?" + +"Not a word. She was just about to enter the future life, Force. She +hadn't much to say. Simply said that she hoped I'd be good to her +little baby, that's all. Go on, man." + +Mr. Force appeared to be lost in bleak abstraction. The curt command +brought him out of it with a start. + +"She went by the name of Mrs. Hinman, you say. No other name was +mentioned, then or afterwards?" + +"No." + +"I can tell you something about her, Bingle. She lived for three years +as the wife of a man who called himself Hinman. She wasn't his wife and +that wasn't his name. She'd been on the stage. She went to live with +this man as his wife. She was a good girl up to the time she met this +man and fell in love with him. Her home was in the West. Her parents +were respected, God-fearing people. They never knew that she--that she +took up the life she led with--Hinman. Don't interrupt me, Bingle. If I +don't get it out now, I'll never have the courage to try it again. No +man was ever in such a desperate plight as I find myself in to-day. +I'll come straight to the point. I am the man called Hinman and--this +child you've got here with you is--mine." + +He might have had the grace to exhibit some sign of shame or +compunction, but he did nothing of the kind. He merely looked defiant, +as if expecting Mr. Bingle to say something that he could resent. + +But Mr. Bingle sank deeper into his chair, his chin buried, his eyes +fastened in a sort of horror upon the face of the President of the +great bank. He was incapable of uttering a word. + +After a little while Force went on: "Blood will tell. All this accounts +for the peculiar, inexplicable attraction that Kathleen has held for +me. It is like a chapter out of an impossible novel. It--" + +"And perhaps it accounts for the antipathy the poor child has for you," +said Mr. Bingle, his voice a trifle shrill and uncertain. He did not +take his gaze from the face of his visitor. "It now seems quite natural +to me." + +"Nonsense! The child had no means of knowing or even suspecting that +I--" + +"She had a birthright, Force. You can't take that away from her. The +hatred for her father was born in her. God wouldn't let her hate the +wrong man, you know." + +Force got up from the chair, tremendously moved all of a sudden. A +piteous, pleading look came into his eyes, and his face, once arrogant, +was now haggard with despair. + +"Bingle, I--I want you to help me. For God's sake, do what you can for +me. Put into practice your beautiful Christmas Carol teachings. I--I +want her. She must be made to understand that I love her, she must be +made to feel that she is everything in the world to me. She looks like +her mother. I thought it was fancy on my part, but now I know. Good +God, little did I know where fate was going to lead me when I employed +those fellows to find the child of Agnes Glenn. Little did I know that +it would lead me to your door, Bingle." + +Mr. Bingle arose. He was very pale and shaken, but he managed to +control himself with remarkable fortitude. + +"I have not told you that Agnes Glenn died of starvation--and carbolic +acid," he said slowly. "Have your detectives told you that?" + +"Carbolic acid?" whispered Force, with staring eyes. "Starvation? Good +God, man--not that!" + +"Yes--THAT! The Society found her when she was about gone. I was +notified. We were looking for a child. This baby of hers was then about +two years old. Mrs. Bingle and I went to the poor little flat where +they had found her, after the neighbours had told the police of her +plight. She was sick unto death. I said that we would care for her baby +as if it were our own. Then I made arrangements to have her removed to +a hospital at once. While we were out of the room, she took the +carbolic acid. That's the way it happened, Force. That was the end of +Agnes Glenn. She was a splendid character, Force. She did not betray +you. She stuck by you to the very end. She protected you a great deal +better than you protected her." + +"See here, Bingle, I don't like your tone. It sounds preachy. You don't +know anything about life, so you can't understand. That sort of thing +is--well, it happens to a good many men and no one thinks much about +it. I daresay that half the men you know have had just such an +experience. It's part of the game here in New York. The girls +understand it. They have no illusions. They know that these men +cannot--or will not marry them. So, as you don't know anything about +life as it's practised now-a-days, I'd advise you to go slow with your +platitudes." + +"All right, Force," said Mr. Bingle quietly. "If that's the way you +feel about it, there's no use wasting time over nothing. I can't resist +saying, however, that I didn't think it was in you to be so damned +cold-blooded." + +"Cold-blooded over what? The Glenn girl? Why, my dear man, that was +nearly thirteen years ago. I am sorry that she had to go the way she +did, but, good Lord, I can't go through life in sackcloth and ashes +because she died--as a lot of people do, every year, you know. Hers was +not an uncommon case. There are thousands just like it happening every +year. It's the price we all pay, men and women. There's no use being +sentimental about a perfectly commonplace--I might even say +legitimate--transaction. Agnes Glenn was like the rest of her kind: she +had a very sharp pair of eyes open all of the time, you may be quite +sure of that. I will say this for her, poor little devil: she was no +blackmailer. She got down and out when the time came and she never +squealed. That's more than most of 'em do, Bingle. 'Pon my soul, old +man, I came here to see you this morning fairly trembling in my boots. +I had an idea it was going to be a hard, nasty business talking it over +with you, but--by George, it isn't. Now, we can get down to +rock-bottom, Bingle. My plan was to--" + +"Just a minute, please," interrupted Mr. Bingle, quite steadily. "Did +you know that she was going to become a mother?" + +"Certainly. You don't suppose I'd be looking for the child if I hadn't +known she was to be born, do you? I'd be a nice fool, hiring detectives +to unearth some other man's child, wouldn't I?" + +"I must agree with you in one particular, Force; you are not finding it +as hard as you thought it would be. I've never seen a man change more +than you have in the past four minutes. You were shaking like a leaf +when you came up here, and now--well, 'pon my soul, you are as brave as +a lion. That certainly proves one thing." + +"What's that?" + +"That your conscience is clearing." + +"Now, don't get it into your head, Bingle, that I'm not dreadfully +sorry for the way that poor girl came to her end. She was really a +brick. She deserved something better." + +"Knowing that she was going to bear your child, Force, you have every +reason, I am sure, to say that she was a brick. I, too, say that she +deserved something better than being the mother of your child. What +happened? Did she leave you of her own accord?" + +"In a way, yes," said Mr. Force coolly. "In the customary way, of +course. You see, I was about to be married, Bingle. When I explained +the situation to her, she understood. She knew that I couldn't go on +leading the sort of life I'd led before--" + +"You hesitate, Force. Why couldn't you go on leading the life you'd led +before? I should say it was quite as decent at one time as another." + +"By Jove, Single, I hadn't the remotest idea you were so simple. I +thought you at least knew SOMETHING about life. You amaze me. You are +positively refreshing. Let me ask you, Bingle, would you have gone on +leading the old life as--now, man to man, Bingle--would you?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Bingle simply. A queer unexpected little smile flitted +across his face--a wry smile, perhaps, but still a sign of humour. "You +see, Force, I love children." + +Mr. Force stared at him without comprehension. What the DEUCE had that +to do with it? + +"Oh, well, you can't understand, of course. To make it short, she was +extremely reasonable. As a matter of fact, when I went up to see her +the day after I had told her that I was to be married, hang me if she +hadn't cleared out. No scene, no tears, no maledictions--just good, +hard sense, Bingle, that's what it was. Not many of them would have +been so decent about it. They usually make a bluff or something of the +sort--money, you know, regular blackmail. But she didn't. She got out +as quietly as a mouse, left no trace behind, no regrets, no complaints. +Just a note saying she understood and wishing me luck. Rather fine, eh?" + +"And you married right after that?" + +"Six weeks afterward." + +"And, of course, the present Mrs. Hinman knows that she's got a +step-daughter?" + +"The present Mrs. Hinman? Step-daughter? Good Lord, Bingle, I didn't +know you had that much sarcasm in you. But that delicate remark of +yours brings me back to the main issue--the matter I really came over +to see you about. Naturally Mrs. Force knows nothing of--of this story +I've been telling you. Now, what I want to get at is just this: how can +we manage it about Kathleen without causing my wife to suspect? Put +your mind to it, Bingle. How am I going to take the child under my +wing, so to speak--take her into my home, without--" "Wait! We'll look +at it from another point of view. Suppose this detective of yours had +found your child in the slums of New York, a street waif, a +beggar--what then? Was it your intention to take her into your home in +that case? Wasn't it your idea to provide a home for her in some +respectable family, educate her, give her a secret allowance--and let +it go at that? Can you honestly say to me, Force, that you intended to +adopt her--as you are now thinking of doing?" + +"Confound you, Bingle, isn't it only reasonable that I should have +wanted to see the child before I made any definite plans for her +future?" + +"And now that you've seen her, and found her to be an adorable, lovely, +even high-bred little creature, you think it's all right to take her +into your own home--into her father's home?" + +"Don't be hard on me, Bingle. Can't you understand that I've got a +father's feelings after all? Can't you credit me with--" + +"I'll go back a dozen years, Force, and ask you this question: did you +make any effort to find this child and provide for her when she was a +tiny baby? Did you do anything toward helping the mother in her time of +trouble?" + +"I tried to help her, Bingle, before God I did," cried Force earnestly. +"I'm not such a rotter as all that. Agnes wrote me a brief note when +the baby was born. I happened to be off on my wedding-journey at the +time. She said she merely wanted me to know that she had a little girl +baby, and she went on to say that she'd starve before she'd take a +penny from me for its support. That's the truth, Bingle, I swear it. +When I got back from California, I tried to find Agnes. I wanted to do +the right thing. I wanted to make the rest of her life easy and +comfortable. But I couldn't find her." + +"Did you hunt very long?" + +"Long enough. A year or so later I heard that she was dead and that the +child had been taken into a good home. There was nothing more for me to +do. I dropped the matter. Then, recently, I began to think about the +child. I began to want her. I engaged detectives to--" + +"We know all about that," interrupted Mr. Bingle crisply. "And now I +think we understand each other clearly, Force. You want Kathleen. So do +I. There's only one way for you to get her, and that is to have Mrs. +Force intercede for you. If your wife comes to me and says that SHE +wants Kathleen, I'll give her up, even though it breaks my heart. What +have you to say, Force?" + +Force had lost all his lofty confidence. He was shaking again, as with +the ague. This was not at all what he had bargained for. Who would have +dreamed it of Bingle? + +"Come now, Bingle, let us get together--" + +Mr. Bingle interrupted him in no uncertain manner. He planted himself +squarely in front of the big man--in fact, almost under his nose--and +snarled: + +"There's only one way for you to get Kathleen away from me, Force, and, +darn you, I don't believe you'll undertake it. I shall give her up to +you only on condition that you acknowledge her to be your daughter." + +Force's jaw dropped. "Are you crazy, Bingle?" he gasped. He lifted his +head the next instant in order to avoid the agitated finger that was +being shaken under his nose. + +"I don't intend that you shall say to the world that she is a child of +shame. Not at all, sir! That would be the height of cruelty. But you've +got to tell your wife the story you've told me if you want to take +Kathleen away from me. She has got to know that the child is yours. You +can't come any adoption dodge over me, Force. She's already adopted. +She--" + +"But, great heaven, man, my wife wouldn't have her in the house if--if +she knew the truth about her," exploded the wretched Force. "No woman +would stand for that." + +"Then, by the eternal Moses," shouted Mr. Bingle, "she'll stay right +here with Daddy and Mammy Bingle." + +"But she's mine! If, as you say, she is the daughter of Agnes Glenn +there isn't the slightest doubt that she belongs to me. I want to do +the right thing by the child. I want to--" + +"No use talking, Force. There's but one way." + +"But, damn it all, I CAN'T go to my wife with all this! I can't--" + +"Then Kathleen stays where she is," said Mr. Bingle firmly. + +"Great Scott, man, what difference can it make to you? You can adopt +another child to-morrow and fill her place. It isn't as if she were +your own child. You don't know what it is to have a child of your +own--your own flesh and blood. You CAN'T have a father's feeling for--" + +"That will do, Force! You've said enough. The matter stands as it is. +I'll tell you something else though before we part: I don't want you +coming to this house annoying Agnes Glenn's child. I shall tell my wife +all that you have told me and I'd advise you to tell yours, because I +don't want you to put your foot inside my door until you can come here +with Mrs. Force and humbly--you notice I say humbly?--implore us to +give up that which belongs to us by virtue of that old law of salvage. +I have already wished you a Merry Christmas, Mr. Force. Now permit me +to bid you good morning." + +He strode to the study door and opened it. His chin was high and his +eyes were uncommonly bright. The hem of the dressing gown was farther +from the floor than it had ever been during his ownership. + +"I'll think it over, Bingle," muttered Mr. Force, very red in the face +as he stalked past the little man and started down the stairs. "Good +morning!" + +"Good morning!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL + + +Flanders was a constant visitor at Seawood. In the fortnight +immediately following the all-important Christmas Eve, he appeared at +the Bingle home on no less than ten separate occasions. + +"I see that Mr. and Mrs. Force are sailing for Europe to-morrow," said +he on his most recent visit. + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. "It's news to me." + +There was every reason in the world why it should be news to him. He +had neither seen nor heard from Force since that Christmas morning +ultimatum. Purposely Mr. Bingle had stayed away from the bank, where, +as its first vice-president, he was wont to spend much of his time +looking after the comfort and advancement of the bookkeepers and +clerks. He never overlooked an opportunity to help his old comrades in +the "galleys." The board of directors were compelled to fight him +constantly in order to keep him from putting through his plan to raise +all wages, and there came near to being a catastrophe when they voted +down his ridiculous scheme for providing fresh air for the lungs of the +workers in the "pen." He made certain comparisons in which Russia was +frequently mentioned and three or four of the directors afterwards +referred to him as an "undignified little ass." + +But now he hesitated about going to the bank. Somehow, he could not +quite bring himself to the point of encountering the president of the +bank in his capacity as head of the great and reputable concern. Never +again would he be able to look upon Sydney Force as the right man for +the place. He could only think of him as "a man called Hinman." Being a +charitable soul, however, he stood ready to overlook much that was +obnoxious in the character of the man if the time ever came when he +openly revealed a contrite heart and a disposition to make amends in +the proper way. + +"To be gone for three months, I hear," said Flanders, looking at his +watch. "I say, Mr. Bingle, doesn't it seem to you that the afternoon +lessons are a little longer than usual? It's five o'clock. I have to be +back in town before half-past six." + +Mr. Bingle did not reply. A sudden cause for rejoicing had sprung up, +occupying all of his attention. For three months, at least, he would be +free to call Kathleen his own, and for three months he could go to the +bank without being disturbed by the workings of his own conscience--for +after all, a visible Mr. Force would be something of a tax upon his +sense of honour. + +Flanders waited for a moment and then began winding his watch. + +"Ahem!" he coughed. + +"News to me," repeated Mr. Bingle, rising above his reflections. + +"By the way, sir, it may interest you to know that I'm getting along +nicely with the play." + +"Good! I'm glad to hear it. They tell me there is a great deal of money +to be made out of a good play." + +"There's a lot to be made out of a successful play. It doesn't follow +that it has to be a good one, you know," said Flanders, didactically. +"I am terribly keen on finishing it and getting a production as soon as +possible. It means a--well, you know what it means to me, sir. These +managers are a rum lot. Four-fifths of them don't know a good play from +a bad one. I suppose I'll have a hard time placing it, because I don't +believe it will be bad enough at the outset for them to accept it on +sight. I understand it is a theory among managers that if a play is +unspeakably bad they can hire some one else to rewrite it from +beginning to end, and make a success of it. Adversely, if it should +happen to be a good play, they don't know what it's all about and will +have nothing to do with it." + +"I'm sure your play will be a dandy," said Mr. Bingle warmly. "The plot +is tip-top. Even a manager ought to be able to tell what it's all +about." + +"I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness in listening to +all I've had to say about the piece. I'm afraid I've bored you +terribly." + +"Not at all, not at all. I've always been interested in the theatre. +I'll confess to you that I've always wanted to know a real actor or +actress. Now that our dear Miss Fairweather turns out to be--er--to +have been on the stage for some time before she came to us, my interest +in the profession is intensified. I really am quite thrilled over +knowing a real, flesh and blood actress." + +"We were a little afraid you wouldn't look at it so generously, Mr. +Bingle." + +"I know. Miss Fairweather has told us of her sleepless nights, worrying +over the supposed deception. She might just as well have slept +comfortably, Dick. She may have been a bad actress but she wasn't a bad +woman, so no harm has come of it. Do you think she is qualified to play +the leading part in your show? It strikes me that it is a very +difficult part. I should think it would take some one like Modjeska or +Julia Marlowe to play it properly. She is--" "My dear Mr. Bingle, Amy +is just the woman for the part of Deborah. I am sure of it--positively. +The trouble is that I'm afraid the managers will insist on putting in +somebody with a name--like Ethel Barrymore or Nazimova or Maude Adams. +That's going to be the rub, you see. Of course, I shall not give in to +them. It is Amy Colgate or no one." He looked very rueful despite this +firm and dauntless speech. + +Mr. Bingle stared at the fire for a few minutes, his lips pursed in an +expression that spoke of calculation. + +"I have been thinking, Dick," he said at last; "thinking very seriously +of taking a little flyer in the--er--theatrical business." Immediately +upon uttering this astonishing remark he became very red in the face +and shifted his gaze to the remote upper left-hand corner of the room. + +Figuratively speaking, Mr. Flanders fell upon his neck. Inside of +thirty minutes, Mr. Thomas Singleton Bingle was in a position to regard +himself as a producing manager and Miss Amy Colgate, one of America's +most promising young leading women, was on her way to become a star, to +say nothing of the ascendency of Richard Sheridan Flanders as a +playwright. The difficulties were all swept away. A Broadway theatre +was no longer a hope; it was a certainty. Mr. Bingle could buy all the +"time" he wanted in any house along the Great White Way. It wouldn't be +necessary to squabble over the relative drawing powers of Ethel +Barrymore or Maude Adams, nor was it anybody's business who Amy Colgate +was or where she came from--to use the words of the elated +dramatist--and it didn't make a bit of difference whether the second +week's "gross" was smaller than the first. Mr. Bingle was back of the +play and that settled everything. + +"I have great faith in the play," admitted Mr. Flanders, with becoming +modesty. + +"So have I," agreed Mr. Bingle enthusiastically. He had been dazed, yet +vastly impressed by the unintelligible phraseology of the stage as it +ran from the glib lips of the eager young man. He was flattered by +Dick's assumption that he was perfectly familiar with the theatre from +box office to "gridiron." + +"And what's more," added the playwright, "I have faith in Amy." + +By this time Mr. Bingle had unbounded faith in the young actress, and +said so with considerable fervour. Whereupon, the jubilant author +suggested that they send for Miss Fairweather at once and acquaint her +with the glorious news. But Mr. Bingle shook his head. + +"No, we can't do that," he said, looking at his watch. "Lessons are not +over yet. Ten minutes left, I see. She's still a governess, Dick. One +job at a time. The stage can wait." + +Mr. Flanders sighed but smiled. Then, for no especial reason, he +slapped Mr. Bingle heartily on the back and laughed aloud. He had no +words to express his accumulative joy, so he laughed--and there were +tears in his eyes. + +"We'll have the best production that money can buy," said Mr. Bingle, +swelling ever so slightly, after the manner of practised managers. "An +all-star cast, and scenery by Sargent." + +Later on, in the privacy of Miss Fairweather's schoolroom, the author +and the star discussed the great sensation, and you may be surprised to +learn that there were two sides to the discussion. Miss Fairweather was +a sensible young woman, although amazingly beautiful, and she took a +most extraordinary view of the situation. + +"It isn't right, it isn't fair, it isn't playing the game, Dick," she +protested, resolutely releasing herself from his embrace after +listening for a long time, with throbbing heart, to his song of +triumph. "Poor, dear Mr. Bingle! He is doing it out of the goodness of +his heart. I am not a 'star' and I am not 'big' enough to be featured +on Broadway. It would be a sin to let him put his money into a certain +failure. I will not listen to you, Dick. Much as I love you, I still +have a conscience and it will not allow me to sacrifice that simple +soul. Why, don't you know what would happen? The critics would go into +convulsions over the attempt to foist a silly little--" + +"But, hang it all, Amy, you've got it in you to surprise New York," he +cried earnestly. "I KNOW you can do it. Good Lord, I wouldn't take a +nickel of Mr. Bingle's money if I didn't believe you could make good. +Why, I've got a conscience too, much as the confession may surprise +you." + +"You are carried away by excitement, dear," she said softly, patting +his cheek. "Just stop and think for a minute. Who am I? What have I +ever done? Where have I--" + +"But can't you see that the PLAY will be the making of you? The part is +a wonder. You can't help creating a sensation with such a role to carry +you along. Now, I'm not conceited--not a bit of it--but I do know this +much: this play and this part are going to turn Broadway upside down." + +"I could agree with you, dear, if you had some one like--oh, well, if +you won't allow me to talk, I--please let me say it, Dick." His kisses +had played havoc with her ideas. "Now, DO listen to me! It's all very +well to SAY that I am qualified to turn Broadway--" + +"Of course, we don't have to 'star' you at the outset," he interrupted, +suddenly resorting to reason. "We needn't feature any one at the start. +If you make good--and I know you will--why, the papers will see to it +that your name goes up in electric lights over the little old front +door. I daresay you're right in going slow, dear. I am so excited that +I don't know whether I'm on my feet or my head. Now, let's talk it over +calmly, sensibly, sanely. The upshot of the whole matter is this: my +play is to be produced and you are to play the part of Deborah. We +don't have to ask any beastly theatrical manager to read the play and +we don't have to go down on our knees to get a job for you. Mr. Bingle +is going into this thing with his eyes, open. He tells me he has faith +in the play and in you, and as he happens to have a great many millions +of dollars we ought to have faith in him. He will put the piece on in +bang-up style. He realizes that there is a chance for failure, but so +does every man who puts his money into a theatrical production. It is +part of the game. It is up to you and me, Amy, to see that Mr. Bingle +comes out of this thing a winner. He--" + +"Wait, dear," she interrupted, her fair brow-clouding. "What of Mrs. +Bingle? What will she say to this exploit of his?" + +"Isn't he the master in his own house?" demanded Dick loftily. Still, a +spark of dismay leaped into his eyes. + +"He is a good man, Dick. He never permits himself to forget that she is +its mistress. She will have something to say on the subject, you may be +sure of that. I am not quite certain that she approves of the stage, +and I've heard her say that actresses must be dreadful creatures if one +believes all one hears about them smoking cigarettes and stealing young +boys out of college. That was before she knew of my late lamented past. +She has been perfectly lovely to me since, however, and I believe she +is pleasantly excited by my 'gossip of the footlights,' as she calls +it. She asked me the other day if it is true that chorus girls are more +sinned against than sinning."' + +"She did?" he cried, grinning. "And what did you say to that?" + +"I said it was quite true," she said flatly. + +"Well, it won't hurt her to think that they'd all be angels if they had +their way about it. Now, let's get back to facts, dear. I've told Mr. +Bingle that the play can be finished in a month or six weeks. He is for +putting it on at once, but I don't believe it's good business to risk +trying it out at the tail end of a very bad season. Things are bound to +be better in the fall. My idea is to begin rehearsals late in the +summer, play a couple of weeks in the tank towns to whip the thing into +shape, and then go into New York some time in September. I'll begin +getting a cast together this spring--none but the best, you +understand--and that will give us a fair chance to go into Broadway +with a corking production. Who do you consider to be the best leading +man in the business to-day?" + +Now, Mr. Bingle WAS having quite a time of it with the mistress of the +house. In his new-found enthusiasm, he went to her at once with the +word that he had decided to make a subrosa invasion of the mimic world +to help out poor Flanders and to lay his hand against the prejudice and +ignorance that seemed to be throttling the theatre. + +She listened to him in speechless amazement, not quite sure of her ears. + +"Of course, I sha'n't permit my name to be mentioned in the matter," he +explained hastily. "That would be foolish, my dear. I shall have it +clearly understood that Dick is backing the thing himself--on borrowed +money, if needs be. Now, you see, Miss Colgate is a very clever young +leading woman and--" + +"Leading woman?" queried Mrs. Bingle, blinking. She had laid down her +embroidery. + +"Stage expression," said he loftily. "It means one who plays--er--plays +leads. Ahem! That is to say, one who takes a principal part in the +show. Miss Colgate is regarded as--" + +It was then that Mrs. Bingle found her voice. After ten minutes, he +succeeded in changing the subject. In all his acquaintance with his +wife, he had never known her to be so scathing in the matter of words. +She succeeded in causing him to feel extremely small and sheepish, for +after all there was a world of justice and common sense in what she had +to say concerning his inspired offer to engage in an enterprise that +was as far from his understanding as the North Pole is from the South. + +"But," he managed to insert, weakly, "it's only to help Dick out, to +encourage genius, to--" + +"Genius your Granny!" she exclaimed. "Don't you suppose that these +regular theatre managers know genius when they see it?" + +"Some of the best plays ever written have never seen the light of day," +said he. + +"Then how does any one know that they were good plays, if they never +were played? Tell me that, Thomas Bingle." + +"My dear, I am only repeating what history tells--" + +"Well, answer this question then: what do you know about a play? Where +do you get your wonderful knowledge of dramatic composition?" + +"I think you will acknowledge that I know my Shakespeare pretty well," +he said stiffly. + +"But Richard Flanders isn't Shakespeare, Thomas. He's a reporter on a +daily paper. Now, for goodness' sake, be sensible. Don't make a fool of +yourself, dear. I know what's best for you. I--" + +"I'm merely proposing to FINANCE the thing, Mary," he argued. "I'm +doing it because I like Dick and I want him to succeed. I do not set +myself up as a real manager. I'm what Dick calls an 'angel.' He says--" + +"Well of all the--Do you mean to say that big, strapping fellow called +you an angel?" + +"Theatrical expression," he said. + +"I shouldn't have been surprised if you'd said that Miss Fairweather +called you an angel, but when it comes to--Oh, dear, what an awful +thing for one man to call another!" + +"Now, see here, Mary, you don't under--" + +But she interrupted him again and he sat back limply to wait for an +opportunity to get in the statement that he wanted most of all to make +to her--which, when the time came for him to speak, was this: + +"Well, well, dear, we'll let the matter rest for a day or two. I only +thought you'd be interested in the experiment--you and I together, you +know--something new and thrilling. We could have a lot of fun planning +and secretly watching the play grow from day to day, and discussing +costumes and scenery, and meeting real actors and actresses, and seeing +the inside workings of the stage, and the green room--and the +dressing-rooms, and all that, you know. It's something we used to talk +about and wonder about, don't you remember? Remember how we used to sit +up in the balcony and wonder what was really happening behind the--" + +"Indeed I do!" she cried, and her eyes sparkled. "I've always wanted to +have a peep behind the scenes and--" She had the good sense to stop +before she compromised herself beyond recovery--but she looked +extremely guilty. + +"We'll talk it over to-morrow," said he. "It might be a relief to us to +have something like this to occupy our thoughts in case we--we actually +have to give Kathleen up to--By the way, Dick tells me he is sailing +for Europe to-morrow. I wonder what it means." + +"Mr. Force? Is she going with him?" + +"Yes. For three months." + +She reflected. "I'll tell you what it means, Tom," she said, leaning +forward to lay her hand upon his knee. "He has told her everything." + +"I don't believe it!" + +"You mark my words, Tom. He has told her. They are going abroad to +thrash it all out, that's the long and short of it." + +"I wonder," said Mr. Bingle, wide-eyed and sober. Long afterward he +came out of his reverie, and said: "I forgot to tell you that Swanson +spoke to me yesterday about his sister's latest. I was awfully sorry +for the poor chap, my dear. He seemed most anxious to see the child +comfortably settled. His sister is a scrub-woman in the Metropolitan +Life Building. It appears that she has been supplying families with +children for the past ten or twelve years. Her husband is a most +unfeeling brute. He says that the babies interfere with her work, and +so she has to either give them up altogether or let the charity +institutions take care of 'em for her. She goes on faithfully having +'em every year, and he goes on objecting to them. Swanson says she has +managed to keep two of the older ones, but the last five or six she has +been obliged to dispose of. Now, this new one is a bright little thing, +he says--quite the flower of the flock. The woman's husband, it seems, +has been out of work for seven years, and curses dreadfully about the +child. The poor woman spoke to Swanson last week, asking him to see if +we wouldn't take this one to raise. Swanson is sure that if we took it +now we could be practically certain that it would never acquire the +Swedish dialect. Of course--" + +"You did not give him any encouragement, did you, Tom?" she cried +sharply. + +"Well, not--er--exactly," he said, looking away. + +"Well, don't!" she exclaimed. "You know I have my heart set on having a +French baby next." + +"So you have," he said brightly. "I'll not forget it, my dear. As a +matter of fact, I spoke to Rouquin, our foreign exchange manager, about +it not long ago. He is quite French, my dear. He says there will be no +trouble about it. It will be no trick at all to get a French baby. He +says he already knows of a half-dozen actual descendants of the +nobility, aged from one year up to ten, any one of which we can call +our own by simply saying the word." + +"He shall be called Richelieu. Dick for short," mused Mrs. Bingle. + +"I thought we contemplated a girl," said he. + +"It is always possible for us to change our minds, isn't it, Tom?" + +"Certainly, my dear. We'll have a boy if you like. In a pinch, we can +always change the gender at the last minute. Let's not give it another +thought. I'll take it up with Rouquin the first time I'm in town. As +for Swanson's sister's child--well, never mind. We sha'n't have it. He +says its name is Ole at present but I suppose it could be called +Richelieu if taken in time. Still that's neither here nor there. I've +been thinking lately, my dear, that we ought to call our next boy +Joseph--after his grand-uncle, don't you see. We owe that much to poor +old Uncle Joe. Will you bear it in mind?" + +"We COULD call the next one Josephine," she said. + +He grinned. "Uncle Joe would turn over in his grave," said he. + +That evening Mr. Force telephoned to Seawood. + +"That you, Bingle?" came in rather muffled tones over the wire. + +"Yes, this is Mr. Bingle." + +"This is Force. We are sailing to-morrow for--" + +"I can't hear you. Stand a little closer to the 'phone, please." + +"I say we are sailing to-morrow for Europe. I'm standing close to it, +Bingle. There's some one in the next booth. I can't yell, you know. I--" + +"Where are you?" + +"At the Plaza. I just wanted to tell you that I've fixed everything up +with the detective agency. Not a word of that little matter will ever +become public. Their lips have been sealed." + +Mr. Bingle's heart swelled. "Do you mean that the matter +is--er--permanently closed? Are you going to let me keep her?" + +"Certainly NOT! What kind of a father do you think I am? Now I'll tell +you what I want you to do. I want you to be particularly careful about +that child while I'm away. Don't let anything happen to her. Take the +best of care of her, Bingle. I shall hold you personally responsible. +And see here, there's another point on which I want to be especially +firm. I don't want her to be thrown with the other children any more +than can be helped. I--What's that?" + +"Nothing. Go on." + +"Some of those kids of yours are not precisely what I would call +thoroughbred. See what I mean? No reflection, of course, Bingle. I +wouldn't say this if they were your own, understand, but--well, they're +not, so that's all there is to it. I shall have to ask you to engage a +special companion for Kathleen, and I have arranged with a Madame +Dufresne to--" + +"See here, Force, I--" + +"--to call on you this week. She is an excellent woman, refined and a +lady of very good family in France. She is a friend of Rouquin's, in +the bank. He knew the family in Paris. I took the liberty of telling +him that you wanted to engage a French LADY to act as companion to your +eldest child. I trust you will see to it that Kathleen is not allowed +to romp about with the rest of those--er--the other children. This +Madame Dufresne will--What's that?" + +Mr. Bingle had recovered his breath. His voice was high and shrill with +indignation. + +"You will oblige me, Force, by permitting me to run my household as I +see fit. If this Madame What's-her-name comes out here to see me, I +shall pack her off to town again so quick her head will swim. We have +brought Kathleen up as if she was our own child, sir, and I don't care +to have any suggestions from you, sir. What's more, I must +say--although it's against the rules of the telephone company--you are +a damned fine man to be giving advice to me about the raising of your +child. You--" + +"Sh! For heaven's sake, Bingle, don't shout like that! Be careful, man!" + +"Well, you leave Kathleen to me, that's all I've got to say. She shall +play with the rest of the children as much as she likes, Force. So far +as we are concerned, she's no better than the rest of them, understand +that, sir. She isn't going to be contaminated a darned bit more than +she was before you discovered that she was yours. And, as for that, she +isn't yours until I see fit to give her up. Understand that, too. Now, +if--wait a minute! I'm still talking. Now, if you think you can give me +any pointers on how to bring up children I want to say to you that you +are barking up the wrong tree. Don't you dare to send that woman here, +and don't you dare to dictate to me how--" + +"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Bingle," came Mr. Force's agitated voice +through the transmitter. "For heaven's sake, don't fly off the handle +like this. I--I thought I was acting for the best interests of every +one. I was only trying to help you out in--" + +"I don't need any help," said Mr. Bingle crisply. "Have you told your +wife?" + +"Yes, I have," said Force. "That's--that's why we are going abroad for +a few months. She--" + +"Mrs. Bingle was right, then. She usually is. What is her attitude?" + +"Devilish bad, Bingle--devilish, that's all I can say. I can't talk to +you over the telephone about it. I'll--I'll write you from Paris. +I'm--I'm working with her, that's all I can do at present. I believe +she'll come around all right in the end. I'm sure she will. I'll--I'll +let you know." + +"Says she won't have the brat in her house, is that it?" said Mr. +Bingle, with a queer rasp in his voice. + +"I can't talk to you over the telephone. Didn't you hear me say so a +minute ago?" + +"You can say yes or no, can't you?" + +"She's pretty much upset over the business." + +"Speak up! I can't hear you." + +"I'll drop you a line in the morning. Now, Bingle, you will take good +care of the child, won't you. She--" + +"I shall take good care of all of them, Force." + +"And now about this Madame Du--" + +"She is out of the question, Force. Good night!" + +"Just as you say, old man. I sha'n't insist if you are opposed to--" + +"Good night!" + +"But I will feel a great deal easier in my mind if she isn't allowed to +come in contact with the rest--" + +Mr. Bingle hung up the receiver. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE + + +The Forces returned from Europe late in February. They cut their visit +short because Mr. Force's jubilant cablegram to Mr. Bingle drew from +its recipient a reply so curt and effective that there could be no +mistaking his stand in the matter of Kathleen. + +Toward the end of the first week in February, Mr. Force cabled: +"Everything smoothed out. Rejoice. Wife keen about K. Insists on having +her with us over here. Send her over at once with Dufresne. Never was +so happy in my life. Force." + +The reply was: "Come and get her, but bring your wife with you. Bingle." + +"I am not sure that I trust Force," said Mr. Bingle to his wife as they +discussed the banker's message. "Like as not he wants to get the child +over in Europe and leave her there with strangers until she grows up, +or something of the sort. What proof have we that he has told his wife? +How do we know that she is keen about Kathie? She never has been. As a +matter of fact, she brags about her hatred for children. Openly says +she despises 'em. Prefers her dogs and cats, and all such rubbish as +that. No, sir, Mary; I don't pack Kathie off with a strange +Frenchwoman, destined for heaven knows what, and that's all there is to +it. The thing looks fishy to me. Maybe it's, a plot--a dark, cruel plot +to get the child out of the country. If he wants me to believe that +Mrs. Force is keen about Kathie, she'll have to say so herself, in so +many words, and, blame me, Mary, I don't believe I'll let her say 'em +by telegraph either." + +"But he is the president of the bank, Thomas," said Mrs. Bingle, as if +that were all that was necessary to put him above suspicion. + +"I am not dealing with the president of the bank, my dear," said Mr. +Bingle stiffly. "I am dealing with my next door neighbour, and I have a +mighty poor opinion of him. The boy is waiting. I'll just write an +answer to his cablegram and get it off at once." + +The day after they landed in New York, Mr. and Mrs. Force paid a formal +visit to the Bingle mansion. They came out from town by motor, arriving +at four in the afternoon. Mr. Bingle was expecting them. They had +telephoned, saying they could stay but a short time and made it quite +clear that it wouldn't be necessary to serve tea. They were staying in +town for a few days before going on to Florida. + +At five o'clock they motored swiftly away from Seawood. The ordeal was +over. Kathleen was to go to Mr. and Mrs. Force. The wife of a "man +called Hinman" was to mother the child of Agnes Glenn. + +It was to be very simple and easy for the Forces; like their kind, they +left the hard part of the bargain to Mr. Bingle. He was to tell +Kathleen of the great change that was soon to take place in her life. +He was to tell the happy, loving little girl that she was no longer to +call him daddy, that she was to go and live with the man she feared and +disliked. That was the part of the bargain left to the one who loved +her best of all and who would not have given her an instant's pain for +all the world. He was to deliver her, with scant excuse or explanation, +into the hands of strangers--cold, unfeeling strangers. It would be the +same as saying to the child that he did not care for her any longer, +that he did not love her, that he was willing to give her up to Mr. +Force without so much as a pang of regret. For he could NOT tell her +the truth. She was never to know about the carbolic acid and the days +of starvation. She was only to know that Mr. Force was to be her daddy +from this time forward and that Mr. Bingle could never be anything more +to her than Uncle Tom. + +But after he told her, he cried.... Still, they were not to take her +away until the end of the week, and that was five days off. + +An unsuspected astuteness in the character of Thomas Singleton Bingle +reveals itself in the declaration, now to be made for the first time in +this present history of the man: he never allowed his wards to look +upon themselves as his own children. They were taught to call him daddy +and to look upon him as a substitute supplied by God to take the place +of a real father, and by the same token Mrs. Bingle became mother to +the brood, but they were safe-guarded against the surprise and shock of +future revelations--revelations that so frequently spoil the lives of +those who have lived in happy ignorance. Mr. Bingle, gentle soul that +he was, had the heart to look ahead in this pleasant game of his. He +saw the cruelty of a too loving deception. He foresaw the desolating +results of a too great faith in chance. So his children were taught to +regard him in the light of a protector who was satisfied to have them +feel that he was under obligations to them instead of the other way +round. It was his joy to be called daddy, and in return for this simple +tribute he lavished upon them all the love and tenderness of a true +father and a great deal of the consideration that a child deserves, but +seldom gets, from its own pre-occupied and self-satisfied parent. + +Kathleen knew that she was not the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. She +had always known that she was the daughter of a Mr. and Mrs. Hinman, +both deceased. In the case of Reginald--and, in a way, Harold +also--there was some uncertainty. As the former advanced in years and +characteristics, it became more and more apparent to Mr. Bingle that +his fifth-born was not of Italian descent, despite the fact that the +authorities at the Foundlings' Home had him down on the records as the +offspring of a Mr. and Mrs. Vanesi, lost in one of the factory fires in +the city of Brooklyn. Mr. Bingle was convinced, as time went on, that +the tags on certain infants had been accidentally misplaced by careless +attendants, and that Reginald's nick-name, bestowed by Frederick and +Wilberforce in their frivolous wisdom, was not so far out of the way as +it might have seemed if he had not been possessed of his own vague +misgivings. They called him Abey. As for Harold, he was unmistakably +Irish, although the hospital people declared that he was German to the +core when Mr. and Mrs. Bingle went there to pick out a healthy Teuton +to add to their collection. They were positive that they wanted a +German baby; nothing else would do, they announced clearly and +positively to the superintendent in charge of the maternity ward. The +superintendent was most gracious about it. She said they could return +little Fritz if he didn't come up to the mark in every particular. What +more could a German fancier desire than a child whose name alone stood +for all that one could possibly seek in Teutonic research? Fritz +Bumbleburg:--that was the infant's name and his father's name before +him. Surely Mr. Bingle wouldn't demand anything more German than that. +Moreover, Fritz's mother was German-American and she had been the wife +of Fritz's father for a matter of five years or more. Still, in spite +of all this, Fritz (re-christened Harold while he was still too young +to raise a voice in protest) was unmistakably Irish, or at least part +Irish. It is also worthy of note that Mrs. Bumbleburg ran away with an +Irish policeman some weeks after the infant Fritz's advent into the +world, which would go to show that the mother, at any rate, had Celtic +inclinations if nothing more. + +Kathleen took it very hard at first. She was inconsolable until the +desperate Bingle began to dilate upon the wonders of Florida. Miss +Fairweather was called in to corroborate all that they had to say about +the gorgeousness of that southern fairyland, and as a group they did +very well when one stops to consider that not one of them had ever been +south of Washington, D. C. The child cheered up a bit. She began to +take some interest in the matter of dress. Following that, she revealed +considerable enthusiasm over the prospect of going south in a private +car with a personal maid of her own, and could have a change of frock +twice a day for a week at a stretch, to say nothing of being allowed to +eat in the public dining-car if it pleased her to do so. That thing of +eating in the dining-car was a master-stroke on the part of Bingle. It +was the greatest inducement he could have offered to the child in +support of the claim that she ought to be the happiest creature on +earth, going away with Mr. and Mrs. Force like this. + +Frederick and Wilberforce openly declared--in the presence of Mr. and +Mrs. Bingle--that you bet they'd go in a minute if they had the chance +to see the land where Melissa's pirates and smugglers did most of their +plundering--an attitude that created an unhappy half-hour for Melissa +later on in the day. Any one else but Melissa would have received her +walking-papers. + +The frocks, the personal maid, the prospect of the dining-car and the +assurance that it wouldn't be necessary to call Mr. Force "daddy" until +she became a little more accustomed to seeing him around, brought +Kathleen to a proper way of thinking. She became quite eager to go! + +"Well," said Mr. Bingle to his wife, after the storm, "I fancy we'd +better make an appointment with Rouquin as soon as possible. I am +really quite enthusiastic, my dear, over that idea of yours to have a +cute little French baby. The sooner we get it the better, I say. It is +going to be pretty lonesome for awhile. Somehow I hope we find one that +cries a good deal. It would cheer us up considerably, I'm sure, if we +had something like that to annoy us, especially at night. We shall +probably lie awake anyhow." + +Frederick was causing them no little anxiety. The boy wasn't eating +well. He was beginning to look a bit peaked. Dr. Fiddler was puzzled. +He could not discover anything wrong, and yet could not account for the +listlessness that had come over the lad during the past few weeks. + +As a matter of fact, Frederick was in love--quite desperately in love. +The object of his adoration was the beautiful Miss Fairweather. No +doctor in the world could have properly diagnosed the youngster's case, +for the simple reason that Frederick's disease was a perfectly healthy +one, and when you confront a doctor with anything in the nature of +health you stump him completely. He doesn't know what to do about it. +Nevertheless, Dr. Fiddler--being a great man and entirely ignorant of +Frederick's complaint--gave him castor oil. + +Now this same Dr. Fiddler undoubtedly had been in love at the tender +age of twelve. What man is there to-day who was not desperately +afflicted at that age, and who is there among us that has forgotten the +experience? Who is there among us, past the age of thirty, who cannot +tell without an instant's hesitation, the name of the mature young lady +who first assailed his susceptibilities? Who can honestly say that he +doesn't remember the school-teacher, or the choir-singer who taught the +Sunday-school class, or the lady who came to visit mother and went away +engaged to a friend of father's, or the nurse who queened it over the +house when mother was ill and who devoted entirely too much time to the +new baby? There is always one full-grown, lamentably old young lady in +the life of every boy, and her name is imperishable. It is invariably +MISS Somebody-or-other. No man can recall the Christian name of his +first love for the very good reason that he never knew it. The +universal lady is always MISS So-and-so. Even the most ardent of +twelve-year-olds never forgets that his heart's desire is a lady whose +years demand the most respectful consideration. Dr. Fiddler, having +loved and lost, should have appreciated the tender passion that took +away Frederick's appetite and made of him a melancholy sufferer. What +Frederick needed was the moral support of a physician who would +recommend and supply a quick and deadly poison with which Mr. Richard +Flanders could be permanently squashed. + +Melissa was his only friend and comforter. The children, and the +servants who were not too busily engaged with their own affairs, openly +scoffed at the love-sick young gentleman. Wilberforce sustained a +bloody nose in retaliation and Watson, being a special offender, met +with a painful and unaccountable accident one day while passing between +the kitchen and the milk-house. A full-sized brick dropped from heaven +knows where--(it must have come from heaven judging by the way it +felt)--and as Watson's hat happened to be directly in the path of its +descent the unfortunate footman was unable to tease Frederick for the +better part of two days immediately thereafter and had to have six +stitches taken in his head besides. Oddly enough, the only place from +which a brick was found to be missing was in the walk leading to the +stables, and Butts, being a thrifty soul, filled up the vacant spot +with the heaven-sent substitute, having found on investigation that it +fitted the vacuum perfectly. It was Melissa who kept Watson from taking +out a warrant for young Master Frederick. She spoke very sharply to the +damaged footman about something that had completely escaped the notice +of Mr. Bingle, who, being no smoker, wouldn't have missed them if +Watson had taken a whole handful of cigars a day instead of two or +three twice a week the year round. + +The privileged maid had read love stories from the time she was ten +years old up to the beginning of her affair with Diggs the butler. The +pleasant discovery that the mighty Diggs had taken a shine to her quite +destroyed all of her interest in romance as it is written. She was not +long in finding out that the people who write love-stories are not to +be depended upon for accuracy in the depiction of passion. Diggs gave +her an entirely new idea of manly devotion. Instead of adhering to the +well-known and well-preserved formulas set down by the fictionists he +behaved in a perfectly astonishing manner. He became acutely bashful +and apprehensive, so much so, in fact, that for a while Melissa +imagined that Mr. Bingle had given him notice because of the mistletoe +episode on Christmas Eve. The poor fellow seemed to be dodging her all +the time. And when she came upon him suddenly or unexpectedly he always +began winding his watch and talking about the extraordinary resemblance +she bore to a girl he had once known in England. The shock, therefore, +was tremendous when Diggs asked her if she thought she could ever learn +to care for him in THAT way. It was almost a week before Melissa could +think of an answer to this astonishing question. It was "yes." + +And so, having but recently suffered the surprise of her life, Melissa +rushed to the succour of young Frederick. She whispered words of +encouragement into the ear of the despairing youngster, and urged him +to stand by his guns. + +"You never can tell what is going to happen," she said. "Look at me, +for instance. What could have been more miraculous than the thing that +happened to me, Freddie? Who could have ever dreamed of Mr. Diggs +falling in love with me? An important person like him falling heels +over head in love with the likes of me! Can you beat it? Well, that's +what I mean when I say you never can tell. You just keep a stiff upper +lip, Freddie--and grow a little, of course--and it wouldn't surprise me +in the least if you conquered the proud Miss Fairweather's haughty +heart. Nothing--NOTHING on God's earth would surprise me now. Go in and +win, Freddie. Of course, she is about twelve years older'n you are at +present, but as time goes on she'll be getting younger. We always do. +By the time you are thirty you will have caught up to her, I can tell +you that. Take Mr. Diggs, for instance; he thinks I am only twenty-six. +He says it's a crime for a man of his age--he's thirty-seven--to be +making eyes at a soft young thing like me. He knows I'm only +twenty-six, but what he don't know is that I was born nearly ten years +before he even starts to counting. Now, in a very few years you will be +twenty. Well, by that time she will be only eight years older than you +are. You see, women don't put on years as rapidly as men. It's a +peculiar trick of nature. I don't suppose there is another living +creature in all God's dominion that lives as long as a woman does +before it can get past thirty. Take Miss Stokes, the nurse, for +instance. She's been nearly nine years going from twenty-seven to +twenty-nine. So there you are. You just keep on growing up, +Freddie--you needn't hurry, either--putting on a year every twelve +months, and before you know it you'll be six months older than Miss +Fairweather. Then--" + +"Yes, but how about this big Flanders?" protested Frederick. "He's +already grown-up and--" + +"Nothing to it," said Melissa, "He hasn't got any money. He can't give +her diamonds and fine raiment. He's got to ask her to wait till he's +able to marry, hasn't he? Well, while she's about it, why shouldn't she +wait for you? It all amounts to the same thing. You'll be able to marry +her just as soon as he is. Now, don't be discouraged. Cheer up." + +"You're awfully good, Melissa," said Frederick gloomily. + +"And what's more, don't let 'em guy you about her. Mr. Diggs don't let +any one guy him about me, you can bet. And say, if you can manage to +sneak one of Mr. Bingle's razors out of his room some day, I'll shave +you. There's nothing like getting your whiskers started early." + +"Gee, Melissa, will you?" + +"Like a shot. Let me feel your chin. Why, I swear to goodness, there's +something there already. It's--" + +"Honest, Melissa? Do you really mean it? I thought it was only fuzz." + +"Fuzz your granny," said Melissa stoutly. "In a couple of months you +could get a beard like a billy goat if you shaved regular." + +"I don't want chin whiskers. I want a moustache." + +"And in the meantime," went on Melissa with rare diplomacy, "you may +see some one else that you like better than Miss Fairweather. That very +frequently happens to a fellow when he's busy trying to get a beard." + +"Do you think she likes Mr. Flanders, Melissa?" A great deal depended +on her answer. That was to be seen by the expression in his young blue +eyes. + +"Certainly," said she promptly. "Everybody likes him. I like him. So +does your ma and so does your pa. That's nothing to go by. Why, I'll +bet you like him yourself. He's a fine fellow." + +"Do you think he's very good looking?" + +"In a way, yes," said Melissa, musingly. "I shouldn't call him quite +perfect, however." + +"Do you think he's as good-looking as Diggs?" + +"I used to think so, but--Now, that reminds me: if you ever say a word +to anybody about Mr. Diggs and me being enamoured of each other, I'll +have nothing more to do with you--not a thing, d'you understand? It's a +secret. Your pa and ma are not to know about it until we get ready to +announce our engagement." + +"I'll never tell," promised the young lover. + +"And here's another thing: Don't you ever let on to Mr. Diggs that I'm +over twenty-six. If you do, I'll tell your pa that you're using his +razor, and--well, say, that would be a mortification for you. Miss +Fairweather would never get over laughing at you. Do you know, I'm +awfully sorry for Mr. Flanders. He is a fine fellow, and it will break +his heart if you get her away from him, Freddie. It seems too bad for a +rich young gentleman like you to be pitted against a poor, struggling +newspaper man whose heart is afire with--" + +"Oh, gee, Melissa, don't talk like that," cried Frederick in distress. +"I DO like him, and I don't want him to ever be unhappy." + +"That's the way to talk," she cried warmly. "That's regular nobility. +Let's give him an equal chance, Freddie. If he can win, all well and +good. We'll take our medicine. If he loses, why he can take his." + +"I wish I was as old as he is," mourned Frederick. + +"Poor fellow," sighed Melissa, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. +"I DO feel sorry for him. I hate to see a fine, honourable gentleman's +heart busted as you are likely to bust his for--" + +"Oh, goodness!" gulped Frederick, his soul filled with pity for the +unfortunate Flanders. He suppressed a sniffle, and then, after a moment +consumed in re-ordering his emotions, went on brightly: "Of course, if +she loves him, Melissa, I shall be the first to wish him joy. That's +the kind of fellow I am." + +"I wonder," mused Melissa, "if that's the kind of a fellow he'd be if +some other fellow won his lady love away from him in a fair contest?" + +It so happened that Mr. Flanders placed a diamond-ring upon the third +finger of Miss Fairweather's left hand that same afternoon, and it also +happened that the starry-eyed young lady submitted to a tender embrace +immediately afterward. But a fortnight passed before Frederick, pale +and wan with the anguish that lay in his young soul, could command the +courage to go up to his big rival and wish him joy. For two weeks his +heart had bled, for, be it also recorded, young Frederick happened to +be lurking unseen in the library when the ring was passed. He saw the +big man take the slim, adored princess in his arms, and he saw her face +upturned to greet the lips that came down to meet her's in--Alas! Poor +Frederick! + +Right bravely he accosted Mr. Flanders one day as the brisk young man +came swinging up the drive on his way from the railway station. +Flanders usually came at three in the afternoon. This habit was known +to Frederick. He also knew that the tall conqueror spent an hour with +Mr. Bingle before Miss Fairweather descended from the school-room. In +fact, every movement of Mr. Flanders from the instant he appeared on +the estate to the moment he left it in a dash for the train, was known +to the small victim of the green-eyed devil. + +On this momentous occasion he resolutely laid in wait for Mr. Flanders +near the lodge-gates. He had steeled himself against the bitterest +moment in his life. + +"Hello," he said, suddenly stepping out of the shrubbery and +confronting the pedestrian, who brought himself up with a jerk. + +"Hello," said Richard. "Getting the air?" + +"I want to speak to you, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick, with immense +gravity. + +"Come along then, lad, because I'm in a rush. I have to catch the +five-ten in to-day." + +"I wish you wouldn't take such long steps." Flanders obligingly reduced +his stride so that the boy was not forced to run to keep up with him. +"I cut lessons, sir, to have a word with you. I just want to wish you +good luck and joy, Mr. Flanders. You have won the heart and hand of the +fairest lady in the land." + +Flanders stopped in his tracks. "I say, youngster, that's--that's +corking of you." He was blushing. "I had no idea that you children were +on to us, so to speak. Thank you, Freddie." + +"I have been on to you, Mr. Flanders, from the beginning. She is the +loveliest lady--" he swallowed hard--"in the world, and I just wanted +to tell you that if you don't treat her well I'll--I'll--well, you'll +see." + +Flanders was not smiling. He understood boys. He laid his big hand on +the little fellow's sturdy shoulder and said, very seriously: + +"I consider myself most fortunate, old chap, in having the advantage of +you in years. If you were my own age, I should have stood small chance +of winning the loveliest lady in the world. Shake hands, Freddie. I +shall treat her well, my lad. If I fail in any particular I hope you'll +take a shot at me on sight. I'm sorry, too, my boy." + +"That's all right, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick bravely. "I bend the +knee to a worthy rival, sir. I--I--" The words trailed off into +indistinct murmurings, for he had completely forgotten the rest of the +high-sounding sentences supplied for this very encounter by the helpful +Melissa. She had written them out for him and he had learned them by +heart. And now they failed him! + +Flanders allowed his grip to tighten on the boy's shoulder. "You will +get over it, Freddie. I had a similar affliction when I was your age. +It was pretty rough, but I pulled through." + +"I shall never love any one else, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick +solemnly. "I shall never be untrue to her." + +"Well, it's fine of you to take it in such a manly fashion, old chap. +It's great. Not many fellows could have done what you've done. I'm sure +I couldn't. It took grit to come out here and tell me this. Shake hands +again, my boy. And I now promise that I shall keep her happy if it lies +in the power of a human being to do so. You may depend upon it, +Freddie." + +"Thank you, Mr. Flanders. I have great confidence in you. I trust you. +If you should ever require the support of a strong and willing henchman +in time of dire trouble or conflict with merciless--merciless--" He +stopped in distress. Once more Melissa's well-turned sentences went +back on him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the +all-important noun. + +"Scoundrels," supplied Mr. Flanders kindly. + +"No, that isn't the word," said Frederick, thinking hard. +"Merciless--merciless--Oh, yes--renegades! If you should ever require +the support of a strong and--" + +"All right," cried Flanders. "I understand. I'll call on you, you may +be sure." + +"There was something more I wanted to say, but the--the words don't +seem to come as they ought to." + +"It's this beastly weather," said Flanders. "I never can think well in +cold weather. I seem to freeze up." + +Frederick was relieved. "I guess maybe that's it. When are you going to +marry her?" The last was a genuine, unrehearsed inquiry and completely +summed up the situation so far as he was concerned. + +"It isn't quite settled. A great deal depends on circumstances." + +"Money?" + +"In a way, yes." + +"What does she say about it? Is she willing to wait eight or ten years +for you?" + +"She says she will wait forever," said Flanders, a bit puzzled by the +new turn. + +"Well, that's all right, then," said Frederick and to Richard's +amazement he squared his shoulders and heaved a long sigh, as of +relief. "Excuse me, please, I've got to hustle. Melissa--" He stopped +in painful confusion. It had been on the tip of his ingenuous tongue to +blurt out something that would have spoiled all that had gone before. +It had to do with Melissa's present whereabouts and her oft-repeated +claim that if Flanders kept Miss Fairweather waiting long enough he'd +lose her, sure as a shot! + +An amazing thing happened to Frederick that evening, just before +bedtime. Miss Fairweather kissed him sweetly, not once but thrice, full +on the lips, and told him that he was the nicest little boy in all the +world. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON + + +Mr. Bingle saw Monsieur Rouquin again. The excellent manager of the +foreign exchange assured the vice-president that he could now guarantee +to procure the most adorable of French infants at a moment's notice, an +infant that he could personally recommend in every particular. + +"Sir," said Monsieur Rouquin, "it is impossible to imagine a more +perfect child, let alone to create one. I have seen thousands, millions +of babies, M'sieur Bangle, but not one so--" + +"Bingle," corrected the vice-president. + +"It is my abominable, unpardonable dialect," deplored Rouquin, who +spoke English without a flaw. "Millions of babes have I seen, but not +one so wonderful as this one. It is a--ah--it is a perfect specimen +of--" + +"You say 'it,' Rouquin. Am I to understand that its gender is unknown +to you?" + +"No, no!" cried Rouquin. "To be sure I know the sex of this adorable +infant. I know the parents--" + +"What is it? A boy or a girl?" + +Rouquin closed an eye slowly. "Ah, M'sieur Bang--Bingle, may I not +leave the question of sex to the child itself? What could be more +beautiful than to present to your notice a perfect example of humanity, +without uttering a single word to aid you in your speculation as to the +gender, and then to sit calmly back and relish the joy you will reveal +when you find that you have guessed correctly the very first time, as +the boys would say? That would be the magnificent compensation to me. +You will need but one glance at this wonderful specimen. One glance +will be sufficient. You will instantly exclaim: 'What a monstrous fine +boy--or girl!' as the case may be. Ah, sir--" + +"I must have a boy," said Mr. Bingle. + +Monsieur Rouquin looked relieved. He permitted a roguish light to steal +into his eyes. "I still implore you to keep your mind open, Mr. Bingle, +until you have seen the child I have in mind. Permit me this little, +silly, boyish pleasure, sir--the pleasure of hearing you exclaim--out +of a clear sky, so to say--'Ah, what a monstrous fine--'" + +"All right, Rouquin," broke in Mr. Bingle. "Only I warn you that if it +isn't a boy, it will be a case of love's labour lost on your part." + +"M'sieur, I beg your pardon," said Rouquin, a trifle stiffly. "Does +M'sieur mean to imply--to insinuate that--" + +"Nothing of the kind," said Mr. Bingle hastily. "It's a saying of +Shakespeare, Rouquin. Of course, love's labour is never really lost. +It's a figure of speech." + +"Ah!" said Monsieur Rouquin, smiting himself on the forehead. "I should +have known. Have I no brain? Listen! I tap my head. Does it not give +out a hollow sound, as if entirely empty? Say yes, my dear sir. I shall +not be offended. To have misinterpreted the polite--Ah, but, it is of +no consequence. Pray proceed, sir." "Proceed?" muttered Mr. Bingle, +frowning. "There's nothing more to the quotation, Rouquin, so far as I +know. Merely 'love's labour lost,' no more. But I would like to ask a +question or two. Are the parents of this child quite respectable +people?" Rouquin rolled his eyes upward. "Utterly," he said, with deep +feeling in his voice. + +"Healthy?" + +"Parfaitment!" + +"What does that mean?" + +"Perfectly, my dear Mr. Bingle." + +"Oh! And are they married?" + +"Mon dieu!" cried Rouquin, turning scarlet. "Absolutely, +sir--incontestably." + +"I mean, to each other." + +"Monsieur jests," was all that Rouquin could say. He wiped his brow, +however. + +"Well, when may we see the child? When can we talk it over with the +parents?" + +"That is for you to say, sir." + +"To-morrow afternoon?" + +"I shall so arrange it, sir. Will not you and Madame Bang--Bingle +honour me with your presence at a little tea-room--quite an excellent +and refined place that I know of--before we go to inspect the child? It +will give me the greatest pleasure if--" + +"See here, Rouquin, that's most kind of you, but I'd prefer to have you +take tea with Mrs. Bingle and me. Do you know of a nice, but thoroughly +typical French restaurant where we could--er--get a bit of the +atmosphere, don't you know? We are figuring on taking a trip to Paris +soon and we'd like to--well, you know what I mean? Quiet, respectable +place, you know. Nothing rowdyish." + +Rouquin's eyes sparkled. His joy was great. "Ah, I know of such a +place. But it is not a tea-room, in the strict sense of the term. It is +a cafe where one has the finest table d'hote dinner in all New York for +one dollar per person, wine included. Ah, if Monsieur would only +condescend to dine there, AFTER we have seen the child, I am sure--" + +"I'll telephone you in the morning," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes +gleaming. "I shall have to speak to Mrs. Bingle about it first." + +It was left that they were to visit the infant and its utterly +respectable parents at four on the following afternoon. Rouquin had +already assured Mr. Bingle that only the direst necessity made it +possible for the wretched father and mother to even THINK of giving up +their greatest treasure, this marvellous infant. In fact, it was only +because they loved the child so dearly that they were content to see it +pass out of their lives. For, said Monsieur Rouquin, they were so poor +and so proud that suicide was the only thing left for them in this +terrific struggle with adversity, and what was to become of the child +if they killed themselves? They would not murder their adored one, and, +while it was quite possible for the father and mother to destroy +themselves, one really couldn't expect a fifteen months old child to +take its own life by involuntary starvation--which was unspeakable. +And, said he, they couldn't consider suicide without first making sure +that their beloved was safely provided for. After that--well, they +could then go about it quite happily, if needs be. Mr. Bingle was +deeply distressed. + +Rouquin had quite a surprise for them when they called at the bank for +him. As he settled himself gracefully in the seat beside Mrs. Bingle, +he announced that he had arranged with the heart-sick parents to fetch +the babe to his humble apartment at half-past four, where at least one +could be sure of avoiding the unfriendly presence of a too-persistent +rent-collector, to say nothing of the distressing odours of extreme +poverty. Indeed, said Monsieur Rouquin, it was not improbable that they +might find the excellent Rousseaus in the apartment on their arrival +there, as he had given directions to the janitor to admit them without +question. He couldn't bear the thought of poor little Madame Rousseau +standing outside in the cold hall with that adorable infant in imminent +peril of freezing to death because of insufficient apparel. + +"Are they descendants of the great genre painter?" inquired Mrs. +Bingle. There was a small painting by the great Barbizon artist in the +Bingle drawing-room. She had been reading up on Rousseau, and Miss +Fairweather had told her how to pronounce genre. + +"That I cannot affirm, Madame," said Rouquin, with infinite regret in +his voice. "It is possible, even probable, that Monsieur Rousseau is a +direct descendant, but I am not in a position to say so with authority. +I shall make it a point to repeat your question to him." + +"It would be most interesting to have a descendant of Rousseau in the +same house with one of his masterpieces, and under the conditions we +face, don't you think, Mr. Rouquin?" Mrs. Bingle had never been quite +secure in her pronunciation of monsieur, so she avoided the word. + +Monsieur Rouquin agreed that it would be amazingly interesting, and +then went on to say that he had known Madame Rousseau while she was +still petite Marie Vallamont, but his acquaintance with her husband was +of short duration. In fact, he knew little about him except that his +great grandfather had been beheaded at the time of the revolution, +which was in itself sufficient proof that he was descended from the +aristocracy if not the nobility of France. + +"You are aware, of course," said he, "that only the aristocracy had +their heads cut off during those eventful days." + +"Oh, yes, indeed," said both Mr. and Mrs. Bingle so promptly that +Monsieur Rouquin at once changed the subject. He realised that they +knew quite as much if not more of French history than he. + +As he had suspected, the Rousseaus were awaiting them in the apartment. +They were very nice looking young people, rather shabbily attired in +garments which, though clearly the cast-off apparel of more prosperous +owners, were still neat and remotely fashionable. Madame Rousseau was +quite a pretty woman, with a soft, restrained voice and a tendency to +say "Oui, Madame," with great frequency and politeness. Her husband, +poor as he was, sustained the credit of aristocracy by smoking +innumerable cigarettes, with which he appeared to be most plentifully +supplied. "You found my cigarettes, I see. That is good," said Rouquin, +shortly after the introductions. He spoke somewhat tartly, as if an +idea had just occurred to him. He shot a furtive glance at Mr. Bingle +as he made the remark. + +"Oh, yes," said Rousseau, after an instant's hesitation. "I beg +Madame's pardon. Does the smoking annoy?" + +"Not at all," said Mrs. Bingle. "I am used to it. Mr. Bingle smokes a +pipe." + +"Well, where is the baby?" said Mr. Bingle, declining the cigarette +which Rousseau proffered in the absence of hospitality on Monsieur +Rouquin's part. + +"Oh," said Madame Rousseau, "it sleeps. I have put it into Monsieur +Raoul's warm bed. Such a cruelty it would be to awake the baby, +M'sieur." + +"I think I'd like to see what it looks like while asleep, Madame," said +Bingle, with the air of a shrewd bargainer. "You see, I've become quite +an expert on babies. I don't believe there is a better judge of--I beg +your pardon. I forgot to inquire if my English is quite intelligible. +Do you follow me?" + +"Your English is perfect, M'sieur," she assured him, brightly. "May I +say that it surprises me. I have been in your America for five years +and I have not before this hour heard an American speak the English +language so perfectly--" + +"Ahem!" coughed Rouquin, and Madame Rousseau completed her estimate of +Mr. Bingle's English by spreading her hands in a gesture which +signified utter inability to express herself in words. "Shall we peep +into my bedroom?" went on the foreign exchange manager. + +"Said the spider to the fly," came quite distinctly from Monsieur +Rousseau. + +"Remember," cautioned Rouquin, his hand on the door-knob, "you are to +guess what it is, Mr. Bingle." + +"I suppose I'm to have two guesses," said Mr. Single, with a chuckle. + +"Certainly," said Rouquin. "Provided your first guess is wrong." + +Stealthily the group entered the bedroom of Monsieur Rouquin. The +window shades were down. The room was quite dark. On the bed was a +dimly distinguishable heap. + +"Sh!" whispered Madame Rousseau, putting a finger to her lips--which in +the light of the sun were singularly red and unstarved. + +"Sh!" echoed her husband. + +"Sh!" said Rouquin. + +On tip-toe they all advanced upon the heap, now resolved into a pile of +pink blankets. Mr. Bingle leaned far over the heap. Then he put on his +spectacles. + +"Where is it?" he whispered. + +"Mon dieu!" gulped the young mother, in consternation. She whipped the +blankets off the bed. There was no baby. A second later she darted +through a door on the opposite side of the room, slamming it violently +behind her. Monsieur Rousseau started to laugh but cut it short and +sputtered Mon dieu three or four times in a choked voice. + +"What does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Bingle. "God bless my soul!" + +In the meantime, Madame Rousseau was confronting a motherly looking +person in Monsieur Rouquin's bath-room, down the little hall. The +motherly looking person was holding a fat, yellow-headed baby on her +lap and to the mouth of the fat, yellow-headed baby was attached the +business end of a half-emptied milk-bottle. + +The conversation was in whispered French, and of exceeding bitterness +on one side. It is not necessary to repeat what was said. It is only +necessary to explain that the motherly looking person was the infant's +grandmother--in fact the mother of Madame Rousseau. From certain +disjointed explanatory scraps that fell from the motherly person's lips +it might have been divined that the baby awoke some time before the +arrival of the great philanthropist, and that grandmere deemed it to be +the part of wisdom to feed it thoroughly before submitting it for +inspection. No one takes to a howling brat, she protested. Besides, +what was she there for if not to look after the child of her +ungrateful, selfish daughter who had not the slightest feeling of--But, +all this time, Madame Rousseau was informing her mother that she was a +meddlesome, stupid old blunderer, and that the fat was in the fire. She +snatched the baby from the old lady's arms. The bottle crashed to the +tile floor and painted a section of it white, its pristine hue. The +infant was too surprised to cry. It maintained an open-mouthed silence +even as its mother whisked out of the bath-room and brought the door to +with a bang, leaving grandmere in the centre of a pool of white, still +whispering shrilly that even though a wise father might by chance know +his own son, a mother never could hope to know her own daughter. + +Messieurs Rouquin and Rousseau were talking loudly, rapidly and very +excitedly to each other--in French, of course--when Madame burst into +the room with the infant. Mr. and Mrs. Bingle, still staring at the +unoccupied bed, had nothing but blank bewilderment in their honest +faces. + +"Ah!" shouted the two Frenchmen joyously. + +"That stupid servant!" squealed Madame Rousseau, hugging the baby to +her breast in frantic relief. "Oh, what a fright I have had. Take the +baby, Jean. Mon dieu! Do not let it fall! Oh, m'sieur, madame, you will +never know how I was anguished. I thought I had lost my darling, my +adored one. The black-hand what-you-call-him--non, non, the kidnapper. +My baby! Jean, Jean, do not let it out of your sight again--never, do +you hear. Now, madame, will you not be kind enough to look at my baby? +Come, m'sieur, to the window. Jean, pull up the shade." + +Jean almost dropped his precious burden in his eagerness to do as he +was bidden, and might actually have done so but for the timely +intervention of Monsieur Rouquin, who sprang to the window and sent the +shade up with a crash that caused Mrs. Bingle to jump with alarm. + +"See!" shouted Rouquin, stepping back and pointing proudly at the baby. + +"God bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + +"Oh, the darling!" cried his wife, and tried at once to take the +sunny-faced youngster from the arms of Monsieur Jean. But Jean held on +very tightly, apparently awaiting orders. It may have been the unusual +fervour of the father's clasp that caused the child to whimper, or it +may have been that it never had seen such an expression in its parent's +face before. At any rate, as it looked up into Jean's swarthy +countenance it began to cry; where upon Madame Rousseau exclaimed +shrilly: + +"Can't you see, Jean? Madame would hold my baby to her breast. Quick! +You big simpleton! Ah, madame, my poor Jean is so sad, so +broken-hearted over the thought of losing his child that he--There! +See! See the lovely smile once more?" + +It was true that the instant Mrs. Bingle received the plump wriggler in +her arms, the beaming smile was restored. Jean moved quickly into the +background, and turned his miserable face away from the scene. + +The Rousseau baby WAS adorable, there could be no mistake about that. +In previous experiences, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle had encountered +half-starved, unhappy, whining infants. This was the first time they +had come upon a lusty, apparently over-fed specimen, and they were at +once filled with the joy of covetousness. Thick yellow curls, bright +blue eyes, and cheeks that would have shamed the peach's bloom--and a +nearly completed row of tiny white teeth--such was the Rousseau +applicant at first glance. Moreover, its clothing was clean, soft and +sweet-smelling of fabrics that do not often find their way into the +houses of the poverty-stricken. + +"Wait!" exclaimed Rouquin, fairly dancing with exuberant joy. "Wait! +Now, Mr. Bingle--now for the guess, sir. I give you but one guess. What +is it--a boy or a girl?" + +Madame Rousseau clasped her hands ecstatically upon her bosom. "Oh, as +if my baby could be anything but--" + +"Sh!" hissed the master of ceremonies. + +So much whirlwind excitement as all this, so much radiant joy over the +disposal of a baby, had never entered into any previous negotiation, +and Mr. Bingle was quite carried away by the novelty of the situation. +Never before had the ceremony resolved itself into an enigma, a puzzle, +so to speak, in which it was his privilege to make one guess. + +"It's a boy," said he, with conviction, whereupon the mother, the +father and Monsieur Rouquin filled the room with joyous exclamations +and the baby, imitative little beggar that he was, crowed with delight. + +Madame Rousseau could not get over the despicable behaviour of +Rouquin's servant. She kept on berating the creature and advising +Rouquin to dismiss her, until at last Mrs. Bingle announced that the +poor thing undoubtedly had acted for the best and out of the goodness +of her heart. She also said that she would like to see the woman. + +Monsieur Rouquin being of a mind to dismiss the presumptuous domestic, +Mrs. Bingle blandly declared that, if her references were all as good +as the one Madame Rousseau was giving her, she wouldn't hesitate for an +instant to engage her to look after the child in case it joined the +Bingle collection. There were voluble protests in French from both +Madame Rousseau and Rouquin, and then Monsieur Jean announced in +English that the old servant was like a mother to Rouquin and that he +would as soon think of cutting off his right hand as to allow her to go +out of his life. Rouquin glared at him for this, and the shabby-genteel +Jean had the audacity to close one eye slowly. + +Madame Rousseau's mother was permitted to remain in the bath-room, and +no further reference was made to her. + +"Well, let's get down to business," said Mr. Bingle, presenting his +forefinger to the babe for inspection. Monsieur l'Enfant promptly +seized it and conveyed it toward his earnest mouth. "No, no!" cried Mr. +Bingle reprovingly. "Mustn't do that. Naughty, naughty! The microbes +will get you if you don't watch out. Dear me, what a strong little +rascal he is! By the way, what is his name?" + +"It has been Napoleon," said the mother. "But he can be made to forget +it, m'sieur, if you desire." + +"Napoleon Bingle," mused Mr. Bingle, and then sent a sharp, questioning +glance to his wife. She gravely nodded her head. "Not at all bad. Ahem! +Shall we return to the other room? Naturally there are a great many +questions to be asked and answered. Rouquin, will you oblige me by +getting a pad of paper and taking down all of the--er--statistics?" + +It developed that Napoleon Rousseau, now sitting bolt upright in Mrs. +Bingle's lap and staring wide-eyed at the interesting face of Jean +Rousseau, was a trifle over fourteen months of age, born in New York +City, the son of Jean and Marie Vallemont Rousseau, persons lawfully +wedded in the city of Paris by a magistrate--(Madame explained that +while the certificate with all of Jean's paintings had been destroyed +in the fire which wrecked their tiny apartment soon after their arrival +in New York, a copy could easily be obtained if M'sieur et Madame +insisted on going into such small details)--and of sound health so far +as could be known at this time. He had survived the heat of one summer +and had actually thrived on the frigidity of this, his second winter, +notwithstanding the fact that he had frequently slept without covering +in their poor, wind-swept attic. + +"Splendid!" said Mr. Single, casting an admiring glance at the rubicund +Napoleon. "A hardy chap, by Jove. Of course, Madame, you understand +that it will be necessary for you to appear with us before the proper +authorities and sign certain papers, and so forth, before the baby can +be legally adopted by Mrs. Bingle and myself. The law provides that you +and your husband shall release all--" + +"Mon dieu!" muttered Madame Rousseau, and as she had uttered the +expression no fewer than twenty times in the past half hour, Mrs. +Bingle was less favourably impressed with her than at the outset. To +Mrs. Bingle "Mon dieu" was blasphemy. "Is not my word sufficient, +m'sieur? I freely give my child to you. I am its mother. No one else +has a right to say what--" + +"Ah, but you forget its father," interrupted Mr. Bingle. + +"Yes," said Monsieur Jean, amiably. "Has the child's father nothing to +say about--" + +"Be quiet, Jean," broke in his wife severely. Then to Rouquin: "You did +not so inform me, M'sieur Rouquin. You told me nothing of this going +into a court or what-you-call-it. I am aghast. Why do you not tell me +of this, M'sieur Rouquin? Is it not enough that I give up my beloved +Napoleon? Am I to be humiliated by revealing my misery, my despair--" + +"Now, now," broke in Mr. Bingle kindly, feeling extremely sorry for the +unfortunate Rouquin, who, after all, was trying to befriend the woman. +The face of the foreign exchange teller was quite livid, no doubt from +the effect of a suppressed indignation. "It is really nothing to be +worried about, Madame. We merely go before a magistrate in Chambers and +swear to certain things--both of you, of course--and that's all there +is to it. You must declare that you, as the mother of Napoleon, +voluntarily relinquish all claim to him in favour of his foster +parents, and we, in turn, swear that--well, that we will bring him up +as our own, and--er--don't you know. That's quite simple, isn't it?" + +"Quite," said Rouquin. + +"And you, Mr. Rousseau, will be obliged to swear that you, as well as +your wife, forfeit all claim, present or future, to this child, and do +so without force or duress. Of course, I shall ask my attorney to +explain everything to both of you, so that you may not act without +complete understanding. Before we go before the Court, you will be +instructed in every move you are to make. And now, Madame, will you be +willing to take oath that you are the mother of Napoleon and as such +will henceforth cease to regard him as your son in case we conclude to +adopt him as our own?" + +Madame Rousseau looked from Jean to Rouquin and then from Rouquin to +Jean, quite helpless in the face of this requirement. Rouquin and Jean +looked at each other, and Jean's jaw was set rather hard and there was +an anxious, uncertain look in his eyes--a look not far short of being +rebellious. The young mother covered her face with her hands and began +to sob violently. For some reason, Jean's jaw relaxed. + +"Oh, my poor little Napoleon!" she moaned. "How can I give you up? My +angel Napoleon!" + +"See here," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, touched by this sudden aspect of +misery, "I'm a very tender-hearted man. If you will permit me, Madame, +I may be able to arrange a way for you and your husband to find a means +of living comfortably on good wages, and you may then be in a position +to keep little Napoleon--" + +"No, no!" cried she instantly--almost fiercely. "I could not think of +it, M'sieur. I cannot consent to any--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted Rouquin blandly. "Allow me to propose a--" + +"I shall not listen to any proposition that may include Jean and myself +in--" + +"In other words," said Rouquin, turning to Mr. Bingle, "she will not +accept charity for herself or her husband. They are very proud, Mr. +Bingle. They would die before accepting charity from--" + +"A thousand times!" blurted out Monsieur Jean, wiping his brow. "Count +me out!" + +"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + +Napoleon began to cry. He had a lusty pair of lungs. Almost instantly, +the motherly looking person appeared in the doorway. She had been +waiting for Napoleon's signal. + +"See!" she cried, holding up a bottle of milk. "I have it! To the +dairy-lunch and the chemist's I have been while--" + +Rouquin leaped forward and snatched the squalling Napoleon from Mrs. +Bingle's arms, and an instant later deposited him in those of his +maternal grandmother, who in almost the same instant was pushed rudely +out of the room. The door was quickly closed. Napoleon's howls receded. + +"Now," said Rouquin, "we may talk in peace. My faithful old servant, +Madame," he went on, turning to Mrs. Bingle with his rarest smile. "I +do not know what I should do without her. She has gone out for the milk +and--Ah, what a treasure she is! Mon dieu, how I appreciate that +wonderful Fifi! That is her name, Madame--Fifi. Ah! Sublime--" + +"She didn't look like a servant, Mr. Rouquin," said Mrs. Bingle, +recovered from her surprise. + +"You speak of her dress, Madame? Has she not declared but now, this +instant, that she went out to the chemist's, to the dairy-lunch? Catch +Fifi on the street in her servant's dress! No, no! She spends her wages +on dress, vain creature. She would no more think of venturing upon the +street in--but, we waste time. Of what interest can be the foibles of +my poor old servant to you. Madame? Come, Marie--you see I have known +Madame Rousseau these many years, M'sieur--come, let us assure Mr. +Bingle that he need have nothing to fear if he decides to do you--and +poor old Jean here--the honour of adopting your most fortunate baby." + +Madame Rousseau dried her eyes upon a singularly pretty little +handkerchief, and then smiled beatifically. + +"M'sieur need have no fear. I shall take the oath for my grand, my +adorable Napoleon's sake. After that, what shall I care what becomes of +me. He shall be safe. That is enough." + +"Good!" cried Mr. Bingle. Then he turned to the silent, glowering Jean. +"And you, my good man. Will you also take oath that Napoleon is your +son and that you, as his lawful father--" + +"I say, Rouquin," began Jean in a far from amiable tone. Rouquin at +once took him by the arm and led him into the bedroom, whispering +fiercely all the way. + +"My Jean is very proud," explained Madame Rousseau, dabbing her nose +and eyes with a bit of a powder rag. "He is so obstinate, too. But +M'sieur Rouquin will talk sense into his head, never fear." + +There was an awkward silence. Finally Mrs. Bingle spoke. + +"Is your husband a descendant of the painter?" + +Madame Rousseau looked surprised. + +"He IS the painter, Madame." + +"The--impossible! I refer to the great Rousseau of the 1880 school." + +"Oh, I see. No, no--he is not that one. Jean was not yet born. Mon +dieu, was there another Rousseau?" + +"There was," said Mrs. Bingle tartly. "Jean is the painter of to-day. +He is great, he is splendid, he is magnificent. But, la la! he is so +poor!" + +"That seems to establish him all right," said Mr. Bingle. + +Rouquin and Jean reappeared. Both were smiling cheerfully. Jean +affected a somewhat degage manner and a perceptible swagger. + +"Very well, M'sieur," he said. "I'll swear to it." + +"Then I shall leave the details to my attorney, who, you will discover, +is a most conscientious, dependable person. In the meantime, when will +it be convenient for Dr. Fiddler to examine Napoleon?" + +Rouquin explained at some length in rapid French, and Madame Rousseau +was once more consoled. Jean appeared to be somewhat bored. He yawned, +in fact. + +"And now," cried Monsieur Rouquin in a great voice, "I have a plan. Let +us celebrate the birth of Monsieur Napoleon Bingle by dining together +at Pierre's. This day he is born again--or, at least, prospectively +born. Life for him really begins to-day--the sixth of March. It is my +treat! I shall be the host on this memorable occasion. Pierre shall +give to us the best duckling in his larder and the rarest bottle of--" + +"But my dear Rouquin," began Mr. Bingle. + +"I implore you, kind friend, to honour me with your presence this +evening. The greatest day of my life shall be this one if you but +consent to grace my board with your lovely lady. And poor Madame +Rousseau and her amiable husband shall not be the ghosts at the feast, +as one might suspect, but joyful spirits. To them we will drink a toast +of good will and better luck next time, and they may drink to you, +madame and sir, the health of one grand Napoleon Bingle, in whose past +they both shared but whose future can only be a--" + +"Oh, I say, Rouquin," broke in Monsieur Jean languidly, "why not make +it 'many happy returns of the day'? That's the real issue." + +Rouquin coughed violently, and, upon recovering himself, went on with a +slight modification of his rapture: "Whatever should come of this day's +work, we should all drink deeply to the health, prosperity and fame of +a future president of the United States--Napoleon Bingle! Come, Madame +Bingle, you cannot refuse to join your humble servant and petitioner in +one jolly, epoch-making--though absolutely respectable--celebration in +honour of our little Napoleon. And you, M'sieur--Ah, you, sir! Have you +not in prospect the alliance of your own honoured name with that of the +most notable Frenchman of recent times? Napoleon! Bingle! Ah, think of +it! Bingle--Napoleon! We can afford to overlook the fact that Napoleon +was a Corsican and not a--real Frenchman. We can--" + +"Just as we must overlook the fact that little Napoleon is a Rousseau +and not a Bingle," said Mr. Bingle drily. + +"Quite so, quite so," agreed Rouquin hastily. "Napoleon Bonaparte was +the adopted son of France, and Napoleon Rousseau is the adopted son of +the great Thomas Bingleton Single--" "Singleton Bingle," corrected Mr. +Bingle, as Rouquin hesitated in evident appreciation of his mixed +consonants. + +"I am sure Madame Rousseau will not feel like joining in a feast at +this time," said Mrs. Bingle. "It is hardly an occasion for +jollification--" + +"Ah, Madame," cried Madame Rousseau, with sparkling eyes, "it is not +for myself that I would jollify, but for the adored Napoleon. It is for +him that I would rejoice. Is he not to become rich and honoured, and is +he not to be given by law a name that he can never be ashamed of as +long as he--" + +Rouquin broke in again, hastily and somewhat apprehensively. "Let us +save our fine phrases for the banquet board. Ah, I can see it in +M'sieur Bingle's face! He will accept my little hospitality. He will +come with Madame to Pierre's. He will make me to be forever honoured +among men. He--" + +"I'll come on one condition only, Rouquin." + +"And what is that, M'sieur?" + +"That I may settle the bill." + +Rouquin was amiable. He shrugged his shoulders and beamed. "I should be +the last to say no to any demand of my guests. If it would give you +pleasure, sir, to pay for my dinner, I shall not protest. I am the most +courteous of hosts. The smallest wish of my guests must be gratified. +However, sir, I reserve the right to order the dinner which I am +giving. You will not deny me that, I am sure." + +"By no means," cried Bingle. "Order whatever you like, Rouquin. I've +never been able to order anything from a French bill-of-fare but +pate-de-foi-gras. It's your dinner, Rouquin, not mine. But, we are +going ahead too fast. We have not yet heard from Monsieur Rousseau. +Will he be willing to join us?" + +"Sure," said Monsieur Jean. + +"And what about the baby? Is it right for us to take a small child to a +public cafe where there may be drinking and--" + +"My dear Mrs. Bingle," cried Rouquin, "pray have no thought of +Napoleon's comfort on this occasion. I shall insist upon Madame +Rousseau leaving him here--in my humble dwelling--until called for. +That is to say, in charge of my wonderful Fifi, who will care for him +completely during her absence. He shall have a stupendous supper and he +shall be put to bed happy. For once in his poor little life he shall +have abundance of food and the joy of a warm nest to lie in. Ah, it is +a great day for Napoleon!" + +Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle stepped into a new and hitherto +unsuspected world the instant they entered Pierre's. They stepped out +of it at ten o'clock that night and into a very commonplace, humdrum +sort of automobile and were whisked homeward by an astonished, +unbelieving chauffeur. They had drunk the health of Napoleon the +present, Napoleon the past, and Napoleon the future, and they had done +it from cobwebby, mouldy bottles out of the uttermost depths of +Pierre's cellars. They were pleasantly, agreeably conscious of going +home, and they talked a great deal of the vivacious, though heartbroken +mother of little Napoleon, who, despite her shabby frock, was the life +of the party. And Monsieur Jean--he, the great artist and stricken +father--he too was gay and amusing. He sang a wonderful little French +song that was applauded violently by people at the nearby tables, and +he drew wonderful caricatures of the musicians, the head waiter, the +shockingly bad soprano, and of Mr. Bingle himself. Rouquin alone was +nervous and uneasy, but of course only on account of his illustrious +guests. He was constantly imploring both Madame and Monsieur Rousseau +to reflect before speaking, and they obeyed him by reflecting in a +thoroughly audible manner so that he might not be left in the dark as +to their intentions. + +Mr. and Mrs. Bingle said good night on the sidewalk in front of the +restaurant. As the latter shook hands with little Madame Rousseau, the +mother of Napoleon suddenly fell to shivering. All of the gaiety fell +from her like a discarded mantle. Her piquant face became drawn and +pinched and her fingers clasped those of Mrs. Bingle in a fierce, +almost painful grip. She drew the elder woman apart from the group. + +"Oh, Madame, you will be good to my little boy," she whispered, beating +her breast with her free hand. "I am not gay. I am unhappy. I would not +give him up but his father insists it is for the best. I may see him +some time, may I not? I love him. He is my joy, my everything. To-night +I sing and laugh, but my heart is not light. Non, non! It is like a +stone, like ice. Oh, Madame, I implore you to be good to my little boy!" + +She was crying softly. Mrs. Bingle put her arm about the bent shoulders +and drew the young mother close to her side. + +"Don't you worry, my dear. We'll make a fine man of your little +Napoleon. Some day you will look with pride upon him and say: 'I'm glad +I brought that man into the world, even though he doesn't know it.' And +I am glad that you have cried. It makes another woman of you. I would +say 'God bless you,' Madame Rousseau, if it were not that he has +already blessed you." + +Later on in the night, Rouquin and his two companions paused at the +foot of a Sixth Avenue Elevated station. + +"Good night, old fellow," said Rouquin, giving Jean's hand a mighty +grip. "You are a true friend." + +Then Jean said good night cheerily and walked off down the street, +whistling gaily, as one who has completed an honest day's work. + +I think I have neglected to mention that Rouquin was an exceedingly +good-looking, fascinating chap of twenty-eight or thirty, and unmarried. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! + + +Chapter thirteen is an unlucky one for Mr. Bingle. Many unpleasant +things are crowded into the space devoted to this division of the +narrative, although in the matter of time we leap from early March to +the fifth of July with all the swiftness of one who races at break-neck +speed to get away from consequences, or to put a disagreeable task as +far behind as possible. + +In the first place, Kathleen was permitted to remain with the Bingles +far beyond the date set for her departure in the custody of a new set +of parents. It so happened that on the very day selected for her +departure, which was early in March, Rutherford and Imogene came down +with a fever and a rash. Dr. Fiddler was summoned from the city. Just +as he entered the broad portals at the front of the house, two of the +nurse-maids, Stokes and Brown, walked swiftly down the back stairs with +their suitcases and bandboxes in their hands. + +Mr. Bingle was notified that they wanted to see him at once in the +library. They appeared to be in a great hurry to catch a train for the +city. From time to time, while they waited for the master of the house, +they cast nervous, apprehensive looks in the direction of the door +through which they had entered the room. Their apprehensions apparently +were justified by the abrupt arrival upon the scene of Wright and +Quinlan, the other nurse-maids, both of whom were hot and flushed and +still in a state of frowsy preparation for a journey. They too had +their suitcases and bundles and they too were trying to balance +unfastened hats upon the top of agitated heads. + +Mr. Bingle came into the room just in time to hear each of the four +accusing all of the others of trying to sneak off and leave her with +the bag to hold, or words to that effect. With his entrance, however, +each of the hasty nurse-maids was reminded of a dreadfully sick +relative in town and of the necessity for instant departure. What they +wanted of Mr. Bingle was their pay--and a reference. + +The poor gentleman was flabbergasted. He wanted to know what had +happened. They told him in one voice that it was nearly train-time and +that nothing had happened, and would he please hurry. When he suggested +that they should wait and see Mrs. Bingle, they asked him to say +good-bye for them, and made for the door, crowding one another rudely +in their eagerness to be off. Brown saved the situation for herself and +her companions by shrilly declaring that she would drop him a line from +New York, advising him where to send her money and the reference, and +for him not to bother now, she would trust him, of course. And then +they all trooped out of the library and rushed for the front door. +Three of them reached the outer air and were gone forever, but one of +them, Miss Stokes, was turned back by the determined Watson, who +clutched her by the arm and whispered a few sharp, convincing sentences +into her ear. She set down her suitcase and began to cry, whereupon the +footman kissed her and said that he'd despise her if she didn't stand +by Mr. Bingle now that he needed her so much; and Stokes said that she +was crying because she hated herself for even thinking of leaving and +that the other girls were the scum of the earth, take it from her. + +Well, it turned out that the two children had scarlet fever. Brown +happened to know that Imogene had been exposed to the disease during a +surreptitious visit to the cottage of the station agent, whose wife it +appears was a close friend of the nursemaid, and whose baby thrived +immensely on the rich foods from the Bingle establishment. So the +instant the rash appeared, Brown began packing her suitcase and trunk. +She tried to get away without letting the other girls into the secret, +but they suspected. What might have been a dignified resignation on +Brown's part, became a stampede. + +That afternoon the Force automobile came for Kathleen. Mr. and Mrs. +Force were confronted by Diggs as they came up the steps. He gave them +the news. + +"The deuce you say," said Force, backing down the steps. "Has she been +exposed?" + +Mr. Bingle appeared in the doorway. "Come in, please," he said, +covering his bare head with a newspaper. "Got some bad news for you." + +"What the devil do you mean, Bingle, by running around among the +riff-raff of all New York, picking up germs and bringing 'em out here +to a house full of children? See what you've done, gallivanting around +with Rouquin's cheap--" + +"Oh, come now, Force! Don't blame poor little Napoleon. It takes ten +days or so for a case to develop and I saw Napoleon only two days ago. +Come in, won't you? I can't stand here in the--" + +"No, thank you," exploded Mr. Force. "I've never had the infernal +thing, and it's usually fatal in adults. I wouldn't expose myself to it +for a million dollars. Shut the door, Diggs, confound you! Do you want +to have the microbes blowing out here into my very face? Get back in +the car, dear! Lord, what a nice mess it is. Hang it all, Bingle, +didn't I tell you in so many words not to let Kathleen play around with +all those little--" + +"Kathleen hasn't got it--yet," said Mr. Bingle hotly. "Only two of 'em +have shown--" + +"We cannot consider taking her away with us now," said Mrs. Force, with +decision. "You can't expect us to expose ourselves to--" + +"No, you can't, Bingle," broke in Mr. Force. "It's not to be thought +of. She's got to stay here until--until the thing's over." + +"That is to say, until she gets well or dies," said Mr. Bingle, raising +his voice. + +"Oh, I'll send out a good doctor and a couple of nurses. And, see here, +I don't want this child cooped up with all the rest of 'em. I want her +placed in a separate room, as far as possible from the--" + +"By jingo!" cried Mr. Bingle. "I believe it would be a good thing for +the child if she caught it and died. Good day, Mrs. Force. Better move +rapidly, Force. You see, I've been exposed--and so has Diggs. We're +alive with microbes." + +And that is why Kathleen did not go South early in March--not until +late in April, for that matter, when she had completely recovered from +a particularly stubborn illness, and long after all of the others, +except little Imogene, were up and about. Imogene died. + +Miss Fairweather was the angel in this season of tribulation. She was +true blue. Day and night she gave up to the care of the sick ones, and +when it was all over the roses in her cheeks were missing, but the +light in her eyes was bright. + +Then Kathleen went away. Mr. Force, considerably humbled, apologised to +Mr. Bingle for as many things as he could remember, and Mrs. Force, +after all, did condescend to introduce Mrs. Bingle to her own exclusive +dressmaker. Napoleon came. Mr. Bingle watched the newspapers for an +account of the suicide of Monsieur and Madame Rousseau, but no such +event was reported. No doubt the approach of spring deterred them. They +would probably wait until cold weather set in again. + +In order to encourage the struggling Rousseau, he bought, through +Rouquin, a rather startling painting by the young artist, in which a +herd of red cattle partook placidly of the skyline and a pallid +windmill dominated the foreground. Later on, an expert informed him +that the red cattle were rocks on the edge of a pool and the windmill +was a lady making ready to dive into the water for a lonely swim. The +painting was signed, but the name was not Rousseau. It was Fauret. +Rouquin explained the discrepancy. He said that young Rousseau +preferred to paint under an assumed name--in truth, it was his maternal +grandmother's name--rather than to have his canvases confused with +those of the academic, old-school Barbizon painter. He was above +trading on a name that was fast becoming obsolete! + +Then there came the astonishing disappearance of young Frederick. The +third day after Kathleen's departure, Frederick turned up missing. A +week passed before the detectives found him in Washington, penniless, +half-starved but valiant. He had run away from home to find Kathleen, +for, in his fickle heart, he had come to realise that it was she whom +he loved and not old Miss Fairweather at all. Extreme hunger and an +acute attack of home-sickness dampened his ardent regard for the +distant Kathleen, for the time being at least, and he was quite content +to return to Seawood, where, after all, he could have all he wanted to +eat and at the same time reflect audibly on the fact that he was a real +hero. + +Envy induced Wilberforce to run away a few days after Frederick +returned with his great tales of adventure, privation and gallantry. He +got no farther from home than White Plains, and was back at Seawood +before nine o'clock at night on the day of his flight, yet he had +enjoyed so many hair-raising experiences, rescued so many lovely girls +from all manner of perils, and soundly thrashed so many unprincipled +varlets, that even Melissa's narratives became weak and puerile when +put up against the tales he told to his pop-eyed brothers and sisters. +He did not mention the sound thrashing that he sustained at the hands +of Mrs. Bingle, however, nor did he attempt to account for the bitter +howls that began to issue from behind the closed library doors almost +simultaneously with his return to Seawood. These howls, it may be +added, had a great deal to do with the decline of enthusiasm among the +other boys. Wilberforce's adventure in the library was the one that +made the deepest impression on them. + +And this summary paddling of young Wilberforce, in direct opposition to +the wishes of his foster-father, who would have punished him in a less +drastic fashion, brings us to the gravest of Mr. Bingle's worries: the +curious change in Mrs. Bingle's attitude toward the children. + +From being a loving, kind, sympathetic mother she lapsed into the +opposite in every particular. Her querulousness, impatience, even +antipathy became more and more marked as the summer advanced and Mr. +Bingle, in dire distress, consulted Dr. Fiddler. She scolded +incessantly, spanked frequently, complained from morning till night, +and suffered headaches, neuritis and kindred ailments to such an extent +that the good doctor might well have been pardoned for looking a bit +wiser than ever before and suggesting a change of scene and environment +for the lady, whose nerves undoubtedly had been affected by the +troubles of the past few weeks. + +Every one about the place observed and secretly commented on the +amazing change in the mistress of the house. The calm, serene, +level-headed manager of Mr. Bingle's household had developed into a +cranky, dyspeptic tyrant whose pleasure it was to be unfailingly +displeased with everything, and who, despite the fact that she was not +yet forty-three, declared that she was a broken old woman without the +remotest hope of ever seeing a well day again in her life. She was +quite positive that she suffered from a dreadful and incurable malady. +She knew the symptoms, she had every one of them, and no doctor in the +world could convince her to the contrary--so she said. Her greatest +desire was to go to Peekskill, where she could find peace and quiet and +unutterable relief from the annoyances caused by the little nuisances +that Mr. Bingle had taken under his wing. In Peekskill her mother and +sister still lived the simple life, and that was what she wanted more +than anything else. + +Mr. Bingle's gentle argument that he could not go to Peekskill with her +met with a petulant response. She made it plain to him that she +realised his preference for the children and that she was no longer of +any use to him as a companion or helpmate. For her own part, she'd like +to see them all in Jericho--meaning the children, of course. All of +which shocked and distressed poor Mr. Bingle beyond expression. + +"What is it, Doctor? Physically she seems to be all right. Can it be +that she is going to pieces mentally? Why, she's always been the most +loving, gentle--" + +"Nerves, Bingle--plain nerves. She'll be all right in a little while, +I'm sure. I'll have a look at her again next week. In the meantime, +don't pull such a long face. She is as sound as a dollar physically, as +you say. Leave her to me, old fellow. Don't cross her, don't let her +see too much of the children, and don't object to her going to visit +her mother in--where is it?--if she wants to do so. By the way, Bingle, +I wouldn't adopt any more children at present, if I were you. Wait for +a year or two and see how she feels about it." + +"Would you advise a trip to Europe? We've been contemplating it for the +past ten years, but--I'm ashamed to admit it--we're both scared out of +our boots when we think of being out there on the Atlantic with two or +three miles of water under our beds every night and icebergs floating +all around us. We want to see Paris and London, of course. Every one +ought to see 'em if he can afford it. If you think it advisable, I'll +take her across this summer. Maybe if she got to Paris she'd forget she +ever wanted to go to Peekskill." + +"I'll let you know what I think of it later on, Bingle. We'll see. I've +never seen your garden looking better than it looks this summer. You +have a treasure in that man Edgecomb. Come, let's stroll down to the +Italian--" + +"Not just now, Doctor," said Mr. Bingle hastily. "I think Miss +Fairweather and Flanders are down there enjoying the shade and the +music of the fountain." + +The servant question was another bothersome thing for him to contend +with. They were dissatisfied and on the point of leaving, especially +the new nursemaids. A general increase in wages served as a temporary +restraint, and a second increase was plainly in sight. For the first +time in his life Mr. Bingle possessed a secret unshared with his wife: +he did not tell her of the raise in wages. + +Flanders announced that rehearsals for the play would be started early +in July. The company had been chosen and a theatre taken in his own +name. Mr. Bingle preferred to remain a silent and unrecognised +instrument in the enterprise. He remembered in time that he was a +deacon in the church hard by, and was sorely afraid that while his own +conscience might be perfectly clear in the matter it wasn't by any +means certain that the congregation possessed the same kind of a +conscience. + +It became necessary, therefore, for Miss Fairweather to give up her +place and prepare for the task ahead of her, especially as her role +called for a bit of dancing in the second act, demanding considerable +preliminary work under the instruction of a teacher. Mrs. Bingle was +rather glad to see her go. Secretly she was beginning to mistrust the +young lady's intentions where Mr. Bingle was concerned. It was her +recently formed opinion that one can never trust an actress, no matter +how closely she is watched or how frankly she looks you in the eye +while you are watching. + +Mr. Bingle called Miss Fairweather and the good-looking Flanders into +his study a few days before the time set for her departure. He closed +the door carefully behind them and then crossed over to glance out of +the window into the garden, where Mrs. Bingle was chatting earnestly +with Dr. Fiddler in the shade of a glorious oak. Mr. Bingle had had +something on his mind for a long, long time. The fate of Agnes Glenn +was at the back of it. + +"When do you two expect to be married?" he asked bluntly, taking them +both by surprise. They turned quite red and looked at each other in +evident dismay. + +"Why, we--er--really, Mr. Bingle," began Flanders, "we thought we'd +wait until we see how the piece gets over and then--" He looked to the +embarrassed Miss Fairweather for help. + +"If everything goes well, Mr. Bingle," she said, nervously, "we sha'n't +hesitate an instant. Of course, if it is a failure, we'll--well, it +really would be wise to wait for a little while until--" + +"That's just the thing I want to get at," said Mr. Bingle. "Don't put +it off, my friends. Get married here, Miss Fairweather, to-morrow, next +day. I am your friend, and yours, Dick. My wedding present shall +be--well, I must ask you to leave it to me. I love you both. You have +meant a great deal to me. There is nothing I would not do for you, +nothing I would not shield you from if it lay in my power to do so. So, +I ask you, my friends, to be married here in my house before--" Emotion +choked him. He had been standing near the window at the beginning of +his disjointed remarks. As they progressed, he approached them with his +hands extended. + +The young couple grasped his hands and Flanders spoke. + +"We can't do it, Mr. Bingle. It is out of the question. I'm +sorry--terribly sorry. You are a corker, sir. I--" + +"For goodness' sake," began Mr. Bingle, imploringly. + +"We would jump at the chance, Mr. Bingle, to be married here, if it +were not for one thing," went on Flanders, and then looked at Miss +Fairweather. + +"And what in the world can that be?" cried Mr. Bingle. + +"We were married two months ago, Mr. Bingle," said Mrs. Richard +Flanders guiltily. + +It was some time before they could make him believe it. She revealed +her wedding ring--suspended about her neck--and then Mr. Bingle kissed +her very soberly and with tears in his eyes. + +"Two months ago!" he said, waveringly. "And God bless my soul, you +spent your honeymoon nursing a lot of sick children! Well, well, it +beats all! It isn't too late for a wedding present. I'll--" + +Flanders interrupted him. "It is too late, sir," he said firmly. "We +only ask for your blessing and your good wishes, Mr. Bingle. You have +already given us too much. We shall never be out of debt to you. The +play, the theatre--" + +"Ah, but I haven't spent a nickel on the play, you blundering booby," +cried Mr. Bingle heartily. "That is still to come. I want to do +something NOW." + +"It will come soon enough, sir," said Flanders firmly. "We can't abuse +a friendship like yours." + +"By George," cried Mr. Bingle; "you are a fine fellow, Dick, as I've +always said. You are a gentleman." + +"Thank you, sir," said Flanders simply, for he was a gentleman. + +On the first day of July the incomparable Diggs gave notice. It was +like a clap out of a clear sky. + +"My goodness, Diggs, you don't--you CAN'T mean it," gasped Mr. Bingle. + +"I do mean it, sir, I'm sorry to say, sir," said Diggs. "It was on my +mind to mention the matter last spring, sir, but the hunfortunate +quarantine made it quite out of the question. I wish to state, sir, +that I would not 'ave left your service at a time like that. You 'ave +been the kindest, most thoughtful of masters, sir, and I trust I shall +never be the man to go back on a gentleman who--er--I mean to say, sir, +a gentleman who deserves the best of treatment from his servants." + +"I'm sure I appreciate your good opinion, Diggs. But, tell me, is it a +matter of wages? If it is, I think we may be able to arbitrate the +question." + +"No, sir. Wages has nothing to do with it, sir. My wages 'ave been +quite satisfactory, as my savings will prove. As a matter of fact, Mr. +Bingle, I 'ave laid by a very neat little sum, which I took the liberty +of investing in a small business before giving notice, sir, the +hopportunity presenting itself while you were so worried over the +sickness that I felt it would be quite wrong to disturb you with my +affairs. We 'ave purchased a green-grocer's business in Columbus +Avenue--you might call it a sort of general business, fruit, +vegetables, hegg--eggs, coal, firewood and vinous liquors, sir. We +hexpect to take possession in a fortnight, sir." + +"We? Have you a partner?" + +"Yes, sir. Watson, sir." + +"Watson? Is--is he leaving me, too? Upon my soul, Diggs--this is TOO +bad!" + +"Yes, sir, it really is. I happreciate what it means, sir, as I told +Watson when he gave notice to me. I says to him, says I: 'Watson, Mr. +Bingle will 'ave a time of it getting any one to fill your place,' and +Watson says to me: 'And what about you, Mr. Diggs?' And I says 'Pooh!'" + +"Watson gave notice to you, did he? When did this happen?" + +"Yes, sir. The servants usually give notice to the butler. He did it +the day we bought out the business, sir," said Diggs, surprised that +Mr. Bingle should have asked so simple a question. + +"I see. Well, Diggs, I can't tell you how sorry I am to have you go. +You have been here for eight years. You are the best butler I've ever +known--and the only one, I may as well add. I wish you the best of +luck. Shake hands, Diggs. It may interest you to know that I look upon +you as the best friend I've ever had. You are the only man I've known +in the past ten years who has really treated me as an equal. You've +done this, Diggs, knowing full well that by rights I am nothing more +than a bookkeeper and never will be more than that, no matter how many +millions I may possess. You have made it your business to live down to +me, and so I am your debtor. Everybody else, from Mr. Force to the +telegraph operator over in the railroad station, looks--but, why go +into all this? You are going, and I wish you the best of luck. The same +to Watson, too, if you please!" + +"I shall mention it to Watson, sir. He will be very much gratified." + +"And I may be able to throw quite a little business in your way, Diggs. +We shall make it a point to buy our supplies from the firm of--is it to +be Diggs & Watson? + +"No, sir. It is to be called the Covent Garden Consolidated Fruit +Company, sir. There is another little matter I'd like to speak about, +Mr. Bingle." Diggs was quite red in the face. "Ahem! I am also +compelled to say that Melissa has given notice, sir." + +"Melissa! Impossible! Not MELISSA?" + +"Melissa Taylor, sir." + +"Why, she is the last one that I--" Words failed him. He looked quite +helpless in the face of this staggering blow. + +"I 'ad a great deal of difficulty, sir, in persuading 'er to leave your +employment. She was most determined about it at first, sir." + +"You--YOU, Diggs, persuaded her to leave? 'Pon my soul, that was rather +a shabby thing to--" + +"Oh, I trust you won't look at it in the wrong way, sir," cried Diggs +in distress. "Melissa 'as merely consented to become my wife, sire. No +offence intended, I hassure you. No underhanded work on my--" + +"God bless my soul!" cried Mr. Bingle. "Melissa is going to marry you?" + +"Yes, sir. Next Thursday week, sir. And also, sir, I am obliged to +announce that Miss Stokes, the first nurse-maid, is to become Mrs. +Watson on the same day." + +Mr. Bingle sat down again. "My gracious!" + +"She also gives notice, sir, through me. Did I thank you, sir, for your +generous offer to trade with us when we take over the business? I was +that rattled, sir, I fear I forgot to--" + +"It is taken for granted, Diggs. And you--you all leave us on the +fourteenth of July?" + +"If quite convenient, Mr. Bingle." + +"The anniversary of the fall of the Bastile," mused the distressed +master of the house. + +"Oh, I hassure you, sir, that really had nothing to do with it," said +Diggs. + +"Well, I suppose I shall have to train a new lot to take your places." + +"I would suggest that you advance Hughes to the place of butler. He is +a very competent man." + +"We'll see. And now you may say to the other three members of the +Covent Garden Fruit Company that I accept their resignations with +regret, and wish all of them joy." + +"Thank you, sir. I shall speak to Watson and Miss Stokes, and I shall +ask Watson to carry your message to Miss Taylor." + +"Can't you attend to that part of it yourself, Diggs?" + +Diggs stiffened. "I regret to say, sir, that Miss Taylor and I 'ave had +a--what you might describe, sir, as a bit of a tiff. She hasn't +permitted me to speak to her since yesterday morning. It will be quite +all right, however, to 'ave Watson 'andle the matter. Thank you, sir." + +The fifth of July, as usual, came close upon the heels of the one day +in the year that men with large families of growing children feel +perfectly justified in characterizing as All-Fools' Day. The Bingle +youngsters, regardless of their missing antecedents, celebrated the day +as unqualified American citizens. They set fire to the stables, shot +Roman candles into the kitchen, bounced torpedoes off of the statuary +in the gardens, hurled firecrackers great and small at one another, and +came through the day with one thumb missing, four faces powder-burnt, +and one arm fractured in two places. (Rutherford fell off of the +balcony while being chased by an escaped pin-wheel.) + +"But," said Mr. Bingle, after relating the horrors of the day to Dr. +Fiddler on the morning of the fifth, "I am glad to say that we got +through with it alive. How did you find Mrs. Bingle? She was pretty +well done-up by the noise." + +"She's all right, Bingle. Don't worry. Who is this coming up the drive +in such haste?" + +Mr. Bingle peered intently over his glasses. + +"That? Why, 'pon my soul, Fiddler, that is Mr. Sigsbee. My lawyer, you +know. Now, what in the world can be bringing him out here? By George, +I--I wonder!" He leaned against a porch pillar, assailed by a sudden +weakness. + +"You wonder--what?" + +"I wonder if the Supreme Court sits on the day after the Fourth of +July." + +"The Court is late this year in arriving at the summer recess, that +much I can tell you. Are you expecting a decision in the case of Hooper +et al. vs. Bingle?" + +"I am," said Mr. Bingle, mopping his brow, which was wet with a very +chilly moisture. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE LAW'S LAST WORD + + +Mr. Sigsbee remained for luncheon. He did not return to the city until +late in the afternoon. All day long an atmosphere of gloom, not +altogether attributable to reaction from the Fourth, pervaded the +house. By that strange, mysterious form of contagion described as +"sensing," the servants became infected by the depression; questioning +looks were answered by questioning looks; conversation was carried on +in lowered tones and confined almost exclusively to matters pertaining +to the work in hand; furtive looks were bestowed upon the door of Mr. +Bingle's study and, later on, directed with some misgiving upon the +closed transom above Mrs. Bingle's bedroom door. To the certain +knowledge of the oldest servant on the place, this transom had never +been lowered before. + +This much was known to three persons: the butler, one of the footmen +and Melissa: shortly after the strange gentleman entered Mr. Bingle's +study with the master, the mistress and Dr. Fiddler, Mrs. Bingle was +led to her room by the doctor and her husband, moaning and wringing her +hands. The trained nurse who had come down to take care of Rutherford +was hastily summoned to the bedroom, and later on Diggs was instructed +to telephone to Dr. Fiddler's office in town with an order to his +assistant to send out a second nurse without delay. + +At dinner, Mr. Bingle was singularly pale and preoccupied. His doctor +and his lawyer talked of the attitude of the Administration at +Washington in regard to the Mexican question and other problems in +which a keen observer would have remarked that they were not at all +interested--and in which Diggs and Hughes certainly had no present +interest. They ate quite heartily, as doctors and lawyers are prone to +do when the opportunity presents itself. Immediately after dinner they +repaired to the study and closed the door. All evening there were +telephone conversations with New York and Washington, and frequent +visits to Mrs. Bingle's room by the doctor and Mr. Bingle. + +At ten o'clock Mr. Bingle walked out upon the moon-lit lawn and gazed +about him in all directions, taking in the terraces, the park, the +gardens, and last of all the splendid facade of the great house itself. +Head gardener Edgecomb approached and to him Mr. Bingle said: + +"It was a beautiful place--a beautiful place, indeed," and then +straightway returned to the house. Edgecomb, slack grammarian though he +was, made note of the fact that he spoke of the house in the past +tense, quite as if it were a thing that had ceased to exist. + +The children had had their supper when Melissa came down from Mrs. +Bingle's room, whither she had been summoned in some haste at five +o'clock. She promptly announced that they were to skip off to bed at +once as their mother's head was that bad that she was not to be +disturbed by the slightest sound. To the inquiries of her +fellow-servants, Melissa curtly replied that it was none of their +business what had happened and if they had any business they'd better +attend to it instead of snooping around the halls trying to find out +something that did not in the least concern them. + +Melissa knew what had happened. Before eight o'clock that night Miss +Fairweather knew, and Flanders also. The great Bingle dream was not the +only one to be shattered by the news that the day brought forth. + +For the first time in two days, Melissa addressed herself to Mr. Diggs. +Her lip trembled and there were tears lying close to the surface of her +eyes. She told the butler, in smothered tones, that she had decided to +remain in the employ of Mr. Bingle as long as he needed her services, +and that she would have to return his ring. She could not marry him--at +least not at present, nor for a long time perhaps. The children refused +to go to bed unless Melissa told them a story. She collected them in +the nursery--the lame, the halt and the half-blind--and very meekly +inquired what kind of a story they would have. + +"The one about Peter Pan," said Henrietta. + +"No! Tell us a new one about the piruts," cried Wilberforce. + +"A ghost story, 'Lissie," chimed in Harold, aged five. "Scare me good +and hard, so's I can sleep with Freddy to-night." + +"It's not the right kind of a night for a ghost story," said Melissa, +her eyes going over the group with a strange, sweet compassion in their +depths. "The wind ought to be howling with blood-curdling glee and the +will-o'-the-wisp ought to be a-hoppin' in the swamp. There ought to be +a graveyard close by--and some skeletons standing just outside the +winders, trying to look in upon us through their eyeless sockets." + +"Let's imagine 'em," said Frederick. + +"I want to huddle, 'Lissie," lisped Rosemary. "It's fun to huddle." + +"You'll be discharged if you fill these kids up with any more of those +yarns of yours," said Stokes, the nurse-maid, languidly looking up from +the book she was reading. + +"I guess not," said Melissa, rather grimly. "My job's safe, no matter +what I do or don't do. Go on with your reading, Miss Stokes. Your +worries are almost over. Mine are just beginning. Huddle up close, +Rosemary--I'm going to begin." + +"I'm huddled," shivered Rosemary, crawling under Melissa's sheltering +arm. + +"Now, this is a true story," began Melissa wearily. The children had +drawn close about her. "It's an honest true one about a ghost that used +to ha'nt my great-grandfather. My great-grandfather owned a beautiful +castle in France not far from Nice." She pronounced it with the long +sound of the vowel, and was promptly corrected by Marie Louise. "I said +it was my great-grandfather, not my niece," said the storyteller +sharply. "Well, onct upon a time he was engaged in a war--the Communism +war, I think it was. In the heat of battle one day he cut off a great +general's head, just like that. Goodness, don't jump so, Rosemary! It +rolled down a hill, bumpety-bump, swearing all the way. You see, he was +a very great general and was allowed to swear all he pleased. He got +his head cut off, so there's a warning for you boys never to swear. +Well, Grandpa got off of his fiery steed and looked everywhere for the +corpse's head. He had the body all right, but what good was a body +without a head? He couldn't find it anywhere. The rest of the army came +up and helped in the search, but 'twasn't any use. That general's head +had disappeared as if by magic. At first it was thought they might +trace it by the cuss-words it was uttering, but you see by this time +everybody was swearing, so it was like looking for a needle in a +haystack. They kept on hunting for nearly a week, because Grandpa +wanted to send that feller's head to his widow, so's she could give it +a decent burial and also get the insurance. He--" + +"And so's she could get married again," broke in Frederick. + +"Exactly. Well, after the war was over, Grandpa he went back to his +castle to rest up for the next war, and to have his sword sharpened and +his petard fixed. One dark night he was a-setting in his ante-room +pondering over the past and wondering what had become of that feller's +head--and also what had become of his widder, who was a most bewitching +creature and would make any man a most desirable wife, especially if he +didn't have one already--which Grandpa didn't. All of a sudden he heard +a voice speaking to him as if from a graveyard. It said 'Good evenin', +Duke!' Did I tell you my great-grandpa was a duke? Well, he was. 'Good +evenin', Duke,' said the voice, coming from nowhere in--" + +"Did it say it twice?" demanded Reginald. + +"Four or five times," said Melissa; "because Grandpa wasn't sure he +heard it the first time. He looked everywhere. Finally he saw it. It +was perched right there on his knee--a awful, horrid, bluggy head with +its moustache twisted up like Swanson's on Sunday. It--Oh, Lordy!" + +Mr. Bingle entered the nursery. The children stared at him as if at the +long-expected ghost, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. His sandy, greyish +hair which of late had been trained to lie quite sleek and precise +across the widening bald-spot, was now in a state of wild disorder. It +stood out "every which way," according to Melissa's subsequent +description, and lent to his appearance an aspect of fierceness that +was almost inconceivable. Somehow they were all surprised when this +sinister figure spoke, for his voice was kind and gentle, and not at +all what one might have looked for in a maniac. + +"Well, well, here we are. Isn't it time you all were in bed? Off with +you, like good boys and girls. Daddy won't be able to come up to see +that you're tucked in to-night. I'll say good night to you now. +Melissa, will you and Stokes come down to the library as soon as you've +got them to bed? And please tell the other nurse-maids to come also. I +don't happen to see them about anywhere. I suppose it is a general +night out. I have something important to say to you all. Please be as +spry as possible. I want to get it over with." + +Half an hour later, Mr. Bingle received his servants in the library. It +was to be noted that his hair was smoothly brushed. With him in the +room was a young man who was recognised by a few of the servants as Mr. +Epps, a clerk from the lawyers' offices. From Diggs down to the boy +whose sole duty it was to feed the robins and squirrels in the +park--all were there, a curious and strangely depressed assemblage. + +The master, in a quiet, unemotional voice at once stated the object of +the meeting. He had called them together for the purpose of giving them +the required two weeks' notice, and also to pay them in full their +wages up to the twentieth of the month. They were at liberty to go, +however, as soon as they liked, but he desired them to know that it +would be with his best wishes for their future. A letter of +recommendation would be found attached to each pay envelope. He +regretted exceedingly that it was not in his power to supplement this +last payment by the addition of a well-deserved present to each of his +faithful servitors. Circumstances over which he had no control made it +impossible for him to give them more than the stipulated amount. In +concluding a brief, simple tribute to their loyalty as servants and an +expression of his sincere regret that they were so soon to part +company, Mr. Bingle said: + +"You see before you, my friends, a man who is poorer than any one of +you. Yesterday I was a rich man, to-day I am as poor as Job's turkey. +Poorer, if anything, for Job's turkey at least possessed a home, such +as it was. To-morrow I shall receive official notification that Seawood +and all that goes with it, real and personal, is no longer mine. The +law has said so, and I must abide by the decision of the highest court +in the land. + +"The Supreme Court has finally handed down its decision in the case of +Hooper et al. vs. Bingle. I am not the rightful heir. Joseph H. Hooper +was not acting within his rights when he disposed of his privately +acquired fortune. His children were acting within their rights when +they disowned him, scorned him, kicked him out of their lives. It has +been decided that my uncle was not competent to dispose of his +property, and that I, his conniving nephew, influenced him by craft, +wiliness, duplicity and so forth to such an extent that he gave his +money to me instead of to those who should have received it. The +Supreme Court declares that all of the lower courts erred in not +admitting testimony to prove that my uncle DESIRED to leave his fortune +to his children, even after he had made his last will in my favour. + +"It may interest you to know that 'The Christmas Carol' had a great +deal to do with the decision. The lower courts refused to hear evidence +to the effect that after making his will he wrote a letter to each of +his children, over his own signature, in which he stated that upon +reading the carol he was so impressed with the sermon it preached that +he was more than willing to let bygones be bygones and to give to his +children all of his fortune, in equal shares, expressing the hope, +however, that they would be governed by the same noble book in +compensating his beloved nephew, Thomas Bingle, and so on and so forth. +If they would take him back into their lives, he would forget and +forgive. Of course, no attention was paid to these letters at the time, +because he was supposed to be penniless. They only went to show that he +was mentally unbalanced. In the original trials, these letters were +introduced. The Christmas Carol was also offered as one of the +exhibits, and it was allowed to stick. When the story was read in open +court, every one sniffled, even the judge. The jury almost bellowed. +'As it was allowed to remain in the record, I've no doubt the Supreme +Bench wept a little over Tiny Tim. In its decision the Supreme Court +refers quite freely to the story and its effect on the old gentleman. I +shall not go into the history of the case. It would not be of interest +to you. It is only necessary for me to repeat that I shall be +penniless. Seawood must be turned over to the rightful owners. I don't +mind admitting that I have never really felt that it belonged to me. I +have always thought that Joseph Hooper's millions belonged to his +children, mean as they are. + +"But that is neither here nor there. My lawyers would not consent to my +believing anything that they didn't want me to believe. I don't own a +dollar in the world, however, except the wages due to you, my faithful +servants. These wages are to be paid to you to-night by Mr. Epps, who +has cashed my last check against the Hooper fortune, in order that you +may receive your due. To-morrow my check, I fear, would not be +honoured. If I have done wrong in withdrawing money to-day for the +purpose of paying you for honest labour, I shall certainly never permit +it to disturb my conscience. As soon as Rutherford is able to be +removed, I shall leave Seawood forever. In conclusion, I may say that +all I have left in the world are ten small children. As usual, they +turn out to be the poor man's fortune. Mr. Epps, will you be good +enough now to distribute the pay envelopes? I shall say good night to +all of you, and to you, Mr. Epps, as well. To-morrow at any hour you +may select it will give me pleasure to go with you to see the little +flat you have described as the most desirable in your list of +apartments. I was not aware, Mr. Epps, that you acted as a renting +agent in addition to your duties with Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim." + +"Yes, sir," said Mr. Epps. "I find it quite a profitable side issue, +Mr. Bingle. Clients of ours are constantly being reduced to the +necessity of seeking cheaper--ahem! I shall be pleased to show you the +flat at any hour YOU may select." + +"Thank you, Epps." + +Without going more deeply into details, the foregoing explains the +situation. Thomas Singleton Bingle was to be deprived of the Hooper +millions. His ten years of possession, years of peace and plenty, had +come to an abrupt termination. Poverty, even darker than he had +suffered before the windfall, loomed up ahead of him, for in the old +days there had been no children to feed and clothe. Added to this was +the certainty that a sick wife would take the place of that well, +strong and encouraging Mary of the past. Despite the claims and +assurances of his lawyers, Mr. Bingle always had felt that this day +would come. He had never looked upon himself as the rightful possessor +of Joseph Hooper's fortune in its entirety. So, when the time came, he +was the least surprised by the shock, and would have been the first to +smile had it not been for the dreadful effect the news had upon Mrs. +Bingle. His wife collapsed. She sent for her mother and sister and +declared openly that from that day forth she would make her home with +them. And to add to Mr. Bingle's incalculable distress, Dr. Fiddler +very resolutely said that he thought it advisable for her to do +precisely what she wanted to do at this time. Later on, no doubt, she +would look upon the situation differently, and would return to him +sound in body, mind and affection. But for the present--well, said the +great Dr. Fiddler, she'd be much happier with her mother and sister, +away from Mr. Bingle and the children. He also advised Mr. Bingle in no +uncertain terms to get rid of the children as soon as possible without +seriously jeopardising their future welfare, "for," said he, "they will +never cease to be a barrier between you and your wife, now that the +dream is over and you are both awake to the cruel call of reality." The +situation became desperate for Mr. Bingle when his wife took her +extraordinary stand, and not before. He wilted like a faded flower in +the face of this blighting calamity. + +On the morning of the sixth of July, a pompous old gentleman rang the +front doorbell at Seawood, and inquired for Mr. Bingle. He turned out +to be the principal lawyer employed by Joseph Hooper's son and +daughters in their fight for the Grimwell millions--a Mr. Hoskins by +name. He might have been designated as General Hoskins, as a matter of +fact, for he was in actual command of a small army of lawyers, now +victorious after a long and bitter warfare. + +"I am authorised by my clients, Mr. Bingle," said he, "to extend to you +the customary amenities in such cases, wherein a contest ends so +disastrously for one party or the other. We are not unmindful of the +teachings of 'The Christmas Carol.' Indeed, we have all read it with +great interest. Joseph Hooper's recommendations to his children in +regard to you--" + +"Just a moment, please," interrupted Mr. Bingle. "Say it straight out, +Mr. Hoskins. Have they commissioned you to make provision for my future +out of the funds they are about to acquire?" + +"In a measure, yes," said Mr. Hoskins, prepared to sneer at Mr. +Bingle's gleeful acceptance of charity. "Of course, nothing can be done +in the matter until the opinion of the Court is--" + +"Nothing at all can be done in the matter," said Mr. Bingle acidly. "I +shall not accept a penny from them, Mr. Hoskins. They wouldn't accept +it from me, and I'm damned if I'll accept it from them. 'The Christmas +Carol' hasn't anything to do with the case. All I ask is a little time +in which to straighten out the affairs of the estate, and not to be +hurried in my actions. I promise you that I shall be as expeditious as +possible. In a day or two my counsel and I will be able to get started +on the work. It will be quite simple so far as I am concerned. I have +only to turn over to you everything in the world except our wearing +apparel--not all of that, you may be sure--and my part of the transfer +is completed. I had nothing when Joseph Hooper's money came to me, so, +you see, it will be quite easy for me to step down and out. I have only +to walk out of the house with my wife and children, without a cent in +my pockets, and the job is done. Everything else belongs to Geoffrey +and his sisters." Mr. Hoskins was disconcerted. He had come prepared to +be generous. "My dear sir, the fortunes of war have militated against--" + +"Better say the misfortunes of war," interrupted Mr. Bingle, with a +twinkle in his eye. + +"I wish you wouldn't interrupt me every time I start to speak to you, +Mr. Bingle," said the lawyer. "I'm not accustomed to being--" + +"I beg your pardon," again interrupted Mr. Bingle, and, because he said +it apologetically, Mr. Hoskins was not resentful. + +"My clients are disposed to be fair and--I will not say +charitable--generous in their hour of triumph. Last evening they met +and discussed the problems confronting you, sir. They realise that you +devoted a great deal of your time and much of your slender means toward +securing the comfort of their lamented father--" + +"And burying him," put in Mr. Bingle. "Don't forget that I buried him." + +"--and they are prepared to settle a certain amount upon you for life, +Mr. Bingle." + +"Well, that's nice of them," said Mr. Bingle. + +"The amount will be decided upon at some subsequent meeting. In the +meantime, you are to accept from them the sum of one thousand dollars +for the purpose of providing yourself with--" + +"I've just got to interrupt, Mr. Hoskins. I do it for your own sake. +You are wasting time and words. I shan't take a penny, as I said +before. I will not allow them to settle a certain amount upon me. +That's flat, Mr. Hoskins. I know how to be poor a blamed sight better +than I know how to be rich. It won't be a new thing to me. I'll get +along, so don't you worry. I have kept the books for this estate ever +since I came into control of it, just because I like to be busy at +something I know how to do without asking the advice of the butler or +anybody else. The books and accounts have been kept straight up to this +very day. You can put your auditors and expert accountants at work on +them to-morrow, if you like, and you'll find that they balance to a +cent. So, you see, I've not allowed myself to get rusty with +prosperity." + +"Most extraordinary," said Mr. Hoskins. + +"When the time comes, I shall be able to turn over the estate a good +deal better than I found it. It has increased under my management. I +could not have begun to spend the income from the investments. Your +clients will find themselves in possession of an extra million or two +apiece to recompense them for their long wait. I do not expect or +solicit thanks for managing the estate while it was under my control. +Please tell them so, Mr. Hoskins." + +"My clients are not disposed to exact a complete, minute accounting +from you, Mr. Bingle," said Mr. Hoskins, somewhat at a loss for means +to meet the unexpected. "Naturally we, as their attorneys, are expected +to ascertain the condition of the estate, and all that sort of thing. I +am quite sure that we will find it--er--in excellent order." + +"Before I forget it, perhaps I'd better mention one or two expenditures +that I have made in the past twenty-four hours," said Mr. Bingle +thoughtfully. "I have taken it upon myself to pay all of my just debts +before the order of the Court takes effect. In other words, sir, I have +settled in full with my attorneys, my doctors and my servants. They are +paid up to the minute, Mr. Hoskins." + +The lawyer stared. "Do you mean to say that you have paid out of the +estate the fees--undoubtedly exorbitant--of these lawyers for the ten +years' fiddling they have been--" + +"My doctor's name is Fiddler, sir," interrupted Mr. Bingle, looking so +hard into Mr. Hoskins' eyes that once more the interruption passed +unresented. "I have paid them all in full, if that's what you are +trying to get at." + +"Don't you know that such an act is distinctly illegal?" demanded Mr. +Hoskins. + +"So my lawyers informed me." + +"And yet they permitted you to hand over to them large sums of money in +the nature of fees without waiting for an order of the Court, knowing +full well that an opinion had been handed down? It is incomprehensible!" + +"It shouldn't be incomprehensible to you, Judge Hoskins," said Mr. +Bingle gently. "You are a lawyer yourself." + +"Am I to infer that you--What do you mean, sir?" + +"I leave that entirely to you, sir." + +Mr. Hoskins coughed, although there was nothing to indicate that it was +necessary. + +"It is possible, sir, for my clients to bring suit against you for a +full accounting of all monies that you have expended or misused in--" + +"I wouldn't say that, if I were you, Judge Hoskins." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bingle. For all monies that belong or have +belonged to the estate of their father. I say it is possible for them +to do so--but not likely. You should not forget that this estate +virtually has been held in trust by you for all these years, pending +the final decision--a point agreed upon by my clients and yourself in +the desire to increase the value of--" + +"If they feel inclined to bring such a suit, Mr. Hoskins, I shall not +combat it," said Mr. Bingle drily. "They may take judgment by default. +They are used to waiting by this time, so it won't be anything new for +them to wait a million years for what they'd get if they sued me. By +carefully hoarding a couple of dollars a year for a million years, I +fancy I could in the end be able to take care of the judgment. But it +hardly seems worth while, does it? It is barely possible that your +clients might die before that time is up, even though I should survive." + +"I fear that you do not realise that this is no joking matter, Mr. +Bingle," said Mr. Hoskins stiffly. He was not quite so pompous as when +he entered the house. + +"I fear that you did not realise it either, Mr. Hoskins, when you spoke +of suing me." + +"Ahem! And now, sir, when may we arrange for a conference over the +transfer of all properties now in your hands, or under your control, as +coming from the estate of the late Joseph Hooper?" + +"You may call up my attorneys by telephone this afternoon, sir, and +arrange anything you like. They are still in my employ, according to +our agreement of yesterday. I've paid them to see that I have nothing +left when they get through with me, so there's nothing to worry about. +Confer with them, Mr. Hoskins, and when you are ready I'll come down +and do whatever is necessary in the premises. In the meantime, convey +my thanks to my cousins and say that when they refused to accept a +portion of the estate from me ten years ago they made it impossible for +me to accept anything from them now. What they were too proud to +accept, I also am too proud to take. Thank you for coming out to see +me, Mr. Hoskins. I know you are a very busy man, and I know it must +seem like a prodigious waste of time to be interesting yourself in the +affairs of a poor bookkeeper without a cent to his name. For that is +what I am, Mr. Hoskins: a poor bookkeeper without a cent to his name +but still a believer in 'The Christmas Carol.'" + +"But that book actually was the cause of your undoing, sir. It--" + +"It doesn't matter," said Mr. Bingle wearily. "It is a good book, just +the same. If you will excuse me now, I must go to the city. I have an +appointment right after luncheon with a man who is going to show me a +flat." + +Mr. Hoskins surprised himself at this juncture--undeniably surprised +himself. "If you are going to the city at once, Mr. Bingle, perhaps you +will permit me to take you up in my car." + +Mr. Bingle's smile was quizzical. "You HAVE got something out of 'The +Christmas Carol' then," he said, and Mr. Hoskins eventually had the +grace to redden perceptibly. He was slow in grasping the connection, +however. + +The impoverished millionaire had a busy afternoon, and some annoying +mishaps--if they may be classified as such. In the first place, he went +to the bank and delivered his resignation as vice-president and +director. He handed it to Mr. Force and at the same moment applied for +his old job as bookkeeper. Mr. Force complimented him on his promptness +in both emergencies. It appears that the newspapers had printed columns +about the Bingle affair. Mr. Force was in possession of all the facts. +He had been interviewed by all of the reporters who had failed to see +Mr. Bingle and who had to be content with a statement prepared and +delivered by Flanders. + +"Your resignation comes just in time, Bingle," he said. "We have a +meeting of the board to-morrow. And as for the position, I'm happy to +say you can have it almost immediately. Ramsey is leaving. I thought of +you this morning when my secretary mentioned the fact. And, by the way, +I don't mind saying that we hope to have the Hooper heirs continue +their holdings in the bank. The account, as you know, is a large one +and we don't want to lose it. Besides, Geoffrey Hooper is the sort of a +chap who will help the bank tremendously if we put him on the board. He +stands very high socially and is hand in glove with the richest people +in town. I am to see him at three o'clock. By Jove, it's nearly three. +Excuse me, Bingle, if I appear to hurry you off, but--" + +"I just wanted to ask how Kathleen is, Mr. Force," said Mr. Bingle, who +had not been asked to sit down. + +"She's all right," said Mr. Force. "Good-bye, Bingle. Tell Bashford I +said you were to have Ramsey's place. And, by the way, if I can ever be +of any service to you, Bingle, I wish you'd call on me." + +"Thanks. The job will be enough, I hope, Mr. Force." + +Force suddenly lowered his eyes. "I'd ask you to come and see Kathleen, +Bingle, but--but we're trying to break the child of her homesickness, +of her longing to see you. Time, of course, will do it. You will +understand, of course, that it is better for her--and for all of us--if +she doesn't see you." + +Mr. Bingle's face shone. "She--she still loves me, then?" he cried +softly. + +Force compressed his lips, and then admitted: "Yes, Bingle, old fellow, +she DOES love you. And, hang it all, why shouldn't she? I--I want her +to love me and not you. I can't look at you without envy in my +soul--eating my soul, do you understand?--and I could almost hate you +for the start you got of me in those long years with her. Oh, don't +laugh at me, Bingle. Don't stand there grinning like a hyena. I suppose +it will please you to hear that the poor child cries nearly every night +of her life because she--she misses you. I--" + +"You can bet it DOES please me," shouted Mr. Bingle. + +"Wait, Bingle! Don't go. What am I to do? How am I going to put +sunshine back into that little girl's face? Lord, man, I--I can't stand +it much longer." + +Mr. Bingle pondered. Then he laid his hat upon the table and took a +notebook and pencil from his pocket. While he scribbled, Force looked +on in perplexity. + +"There!" said Mr. Bingle, tearing out the sheet and handing it to the +president of the bank. "You may read it, Mr. Force. Give it to her, and +see if she doesn't brighten up a bit." + +Force read the note. He read it aloud, as if that was the only way to +get the full meaning of it. + +"'Dear Kathleen: Your old daddy loves you. You must always love him, +and you must make your new daddy fetch you to see him some day. Come +and see Freddie and all the other kiddies. They will be so delighted to +see you, for they all love you. And if your new daddy will fetch you to +see your old daddy once in a while, I am sure you will come to love +your new daddy as much, if not more than you love your old + + "DADDY BINGLE.'" + +"Give that to her, Force, and maybe she'll put her arms around your +neck and kiss you," said Mr. Bingle, and went swiftly out of the room, +leaving Force staring at the bit of paper as if fascinated. + +As he hurried from the bank, he met Rouquin, the foreign exchange +manager, who evidently had been lying in wait for him. + +"How do you do, Rouquin?" said he, stopping to proffer his hand to the +Frenchman. + +"See here, Mr. Bingle," began Rouquin, in an agitated undertone; "I +want a word or two with you about Napoleon. What is to become of that +child, now that you are down and out? Will he be sent to some accursed +charity home or--" + +"Possess your soul in peace, Rouquin," said Mr. Bingle, drawing back to +look more intently into the unfriendly eyes of the once amiable +Rouquin. "Napoleon shall have the best I can give him, no more. He is +as well with me as he could ever have been with his good-for-nothing +father, and if I choose to get rid of him later on to the best +advantage I won't be doing anything more despicable than his father and +mother did before me. Please bear that in mind." + +"I shall see to it that he is taken away from you before he is a week +older," cried Rouquin angrily. "You cannot expect me to leave that +helpless child--" + +"What have you got to do with it, Rouquin?" demanded Mr. Bingle sharply. + +"I am his mother's friend. I promised her that he should have a fine +home. I swore to her that he should never know want or hardship or--" + +"There is only one way for you to take Napoleon away from me," said Mr. +Bingle, as Rouquin floundered for words to express himself. "And that +is to come up like a man and say that you are his father. Whenever you +can do that and whenever you can show me that you and his mother are +married to each other, I'll give him up to you, but not before, you +scum of the earth!" + +Rouquin went very red in the face and then very pale, and his thin lips +set themselves in a ghastly smile. + +"Good day, Rouquin," said Mr. Bingle, and went out of the bank. + +Mr. Epps was annoyed because his customer kept him waiting for nearly +half-an-hour. He was exceedingly crabbed and disagreeable as they set +out to look at the flat which was to be the Bingle home, provided the +rent was paid regularly and promptly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DECEMBER + + +The proverbial church-mouse was no worse off than Mr. Bingle at the end +of the fifth month of his reduction. Indeed, it is more than probable +that the church-mouse would be conceded a distinct advantage in many +particulars. A very small nest will accommodate a very large family of +growing mice; the tighter they are packed in the nest the better off +they are in zero weather. Moreover, in a pinch, the parental +church-mouse may stave off famine by resorting to a cannibalistic plan +of economy, thereby saving its young the trouble of growing up to +become proverbial church-mice. It may devour its young when it becomes +painfully hungry, and not be held accountable to the law. With +commendable frugality, the church-mouse first eats off the tail of its +offspring. Then, if luck continues to be bad, the remainder may be +despatched with due and honest respect for the laws of nature. + +Now, with Mr. Bingle, it was quite out of the question for him to +devour even so small a morsel as Napoleon without getting into serious +trouble with the law, and it was equally impossible to obtain the same +degree of comfort for his young by packing them into a four room flat. +And then the church-mouse doesn't have to think about shoes and +stockings and mittens and ear-muffs, to say nothing of frocks and +knickerbockers. So he who speaks of another as being "as poor as a +church-mouse" does a grave injustice to a really prosperous creature, +despite the fact that it lives in a church and is employed in the +rather dubious occupation of supporting a figure of speech. Look +carefully into the present law of economics, if you please, and then +grant the church-mouse the benefit of the doubt. + +Mr. Bingle's flat could be found by traversing a very mean street in +the lower east side not far removed from the Third Avenue Elevated +tracks. Discovery required the mounting of four flights of stairs by +foot, and two turns to the right in following the course of the narrow, +dark hallway which led in a round-about sort of way to a fire escape +that invited a quicker and less painful death than destruction by +flames in case one had to choose between the two means of perishing. + +Four rooms and a kitchen was all that Mr. Bingle's flat amounted to. +The four rooms contained beds; in the kitchen there was a collapsible +cot. In one of the rooms (ordinarily it would have been the parlour), +there was a somewhat futile sheet-iron stove in which soft coal or wood +could be used provided the wind was in the right direction. This was, +in fact, the parlour. The bed, by day, assumed the dignity of a broad +but saggy lounge, exceedingly comfortable if one was careful to sit far +enough forward to avoid slipping into its cavernous depths from which +there was no escape without assistance. Besides being the parlour, it +was also the library, the study-room, the dining-room and reception +hall. By night, it was the bed-chamber of Mr. Bingle. + +At the beginning of the cold snap that arrived quite early in December, +it also became the sleeping place of Rutherford, Rosemary and Harold, +the tiniest of the children, who piled in with the uncomplaining +occupant and kept him awake three-fourths of the night trying to +determine whose legs were uncovered and whose were not. With six +exceedingly active little legs wriggling in as many different +directions in pitch darkness, it was no easy matter, you may be sure, +to decide whether any two belonged to the same individual, and when it +came to pass that three of them were exposed at the same time the +puzzle was indeed a difficult one. + +Napoleon's crib also made its way into the parlour when the cold +weather came; and while Napoleon's legs stayed under cover pretty well +his voice, like Chanticleer's, arose before the sun. Frederick, +Wilberforce and Reginald slept in one room, Marie Louise, Henrietta and +Guinevere in another. In pleasant weather, Rosemary joined her sisters, +while Harold and Rutherford fell in with the other boys. There never +was a time, however, when Mr. Bingle did not have a bed-fellow in the +shape of one or the other of the two small boys. + +The fourth room was occupied by the maid-of-all-work, and as it was +primarily intended to be the servant's bedroom it is not necessary to +state that there was space for but one full grown person inside its +four walls. The collapsible cot in the kitchen represented the +foundation of an emergency guest chamber. Up to the present it had not +been called into use, but it was always there in readiness for the +expected and unexpected. + +It will be observed that no account is taken of Mrs. Bingle. The +explanation is quite simple. She went to live with her mother and +sister at Peekskill on the advice of Dr. Fiddler almost immediately +after the Supreme Court's opinion was handed down. Later on, she came +down to the city with her mother, who now received a small but +sufficient income through the death and will of a fairly well-to-do +bachelor brother. The old lady took a house in the Bronx and once a +week Mr. Bingle journeyed northward by subway and surface lines to +visit his wife. A smart little doctor from Dr. Fiddler's staff made +occasional visits to the Bronx and looked the part of a wiseacre when +Mr. Bingle appealed to him for encouragement. He smiled knowingly and +refused to commit himself beyond a more or less reassuring squint, a +pursing of the lips, and the usual statement that if nothing happened +she would be as fit as ever in the course of time. + +The cot in the kitchen was for Mr. Bingle in case Mrs. Bingle decided +to come back to him in health as well as in person. He consoled himself +with the daily hope that she would come dashing in upon him, as well as +ever and in perfect sympathy with his decision to protect the helpless +children they had gathered about them in their years of affluence. + +He had stood out resolutely against all contention that the children +should be cast upon the world once more. Harsh words were used at times +by interested friends in their efforts to bring him to his senses. They +urged him to let them find homes or asylums for the rapacious +youngsters; they described them as so many Sindbads; they spoke of them +as millstones about the neck of a man who could never get his head +above water unless he cut loose from them; they argued long and +insistently about his mistaken ideas of justice, responsibility, +affection. He came back at them always with the patient declaration +that he would stand by the bargain made by himself and his wife so long +as God saw fit to give him the strength to earn a living for their +charges. + +"Why, confound you, Bingle," said Mr. Force to him one day at the bank, +"one would think that you still regard yourself as a millionaire, the +way you hang onto those kids. Cut them adrift, old fellow. Or if you +won't do that, at least let some of us help you in a pecuniary way. +Don't be so infernally proud and self-satisfied. It wouldn't be +charity. It would be justice. Now, see here, I've argued this thing +with you for three months or more and I'm getting tired of your +everlasting serenity. I know you are hard put to find enough money to +clothe and feed these kids, besides buying what your wife may need. You +are beginning to look shabby and you certainly are thinner and greyer. +What you ought to do, Bingle, is to turn those kids over to a Home of +some sort and settle down to a normal way of living. Winter is coming +on. You will have a devil of a time providing for ten small children +and a sick wife on the salary you are getting here. Now, for heaven's +sake, old fellow, take my advice. Get rid of 'em. You owe it to your +wife, Bingle. She ought--" + +"I owe it to my wife to take care of them alone, now that she is unable +to do her part," said Mr. Bingle simply. "We took them as partners, so +to speak. She is unable to manage her share of the liability. Well, +I'll do her part for her, Mr. Force, so long as I'm able. The time may +come when I shall have to appeal for help, or give up the struggle +altogether, but it isn't here yet. I can manage for a while, thank you. +Besides," and his face brightened, "we may have a very mild winter, and +the new tariff is just as likely as not to reduce the cost of living, +no matter what you croakers say to the contrary. I've talked it over +with Mrs. Bingle. She says she can't come home until she is very much +better, and I'll admit that the children would be a dreadful strain +upon her nerves at present. But she says I'm to do just as I think best +in regard to them. She thinks I'm foolish--in fact, she says so--but I +think I understand her better than any one else. Down in her heart she +knows I'm doing the right thing. We'll wait, like old Micawber, for +something to turn up. If it doesn't turn up in a reasonable length of +time, then I'll consider what is best to do with the children." + +"Are you considering your own health, Bingle?" demanded Force bluntly. + +"No," said Mr. Bingle simply. "I've lived a decent, sensible life, so +what's the use worrying over something that can't be helped?" His smile +was cheerful, the twinkle in his eyes was as bright as though it had +never known a dim moment. + +"You should accept the standing offer of the Hooper heirs," said Force. +"They are disposed to be fair and square, Bingle. Three thousand a year +isn't to be sneezed at." + +"The Hooper heirs are sneezing at it, so why shouldn't I?" said Mr. +Bingle cheerily. + +"I suppose you'll read that ridiculous Christmas Carol on Christmas +Eve," said Force sarcastically. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Bingle. "That reminds me; I wish you'd let +Kathleen come down to see us on Christmas Eve. I think she'd enjoy the +reading." + +"I'll do it, Bingle," said Force after a moment. "Since she has been +allowed to go down to see you and those kids of yours, her whole view +of life has changed. You were right, old fellow. I believe she likes me +better as time goes on. At any rate, she is quite gay and happy, and +she doesn't look at me with scared eyes any longer. She kissed me as if +she really meant it the other day when I told her she could have Freddy +up to tea. I'd like to suggest, however, that you see to it that the +flat is thoroughly aired and all the germs blown out before she comes +down again to--" + +"You needn't worry, Mr. Force," said Bingle without a sign of +resentment in his manner. "We can't help airing the flat. Our greatest +problem is to keep from airing it. There isn't a minute of the day that +it isn't being aired." + +Besides Mr. Force, who was a friend by circumstance and not from +choice, Bingle possessed two loyal and devoted friends in Diggs and +Watson, proprietors of the Covent Garden Consolidated Fruit Company of +Columbus Avenue, Manhattan. They would have supplied him with +vegetables and cured meats without charge if the thing could have been +accomplished without his knowledge. They came often to see him, Watson +bringing his wife, the former Miss Stokes, and many a night was made +cheerful for the little man by these good sprites from another world. + +Mr. Diggs resignedly awaited the day when Mr. Bingle's maid-of-all-work +could see her way clear to become Mrs. Diggs, and the equal of Mrs. +Watson, if not her superior by virtue of the position of her husband's +name on the firm's business cards. But if Diggs was devotedly loyal to +Melissa, Melissa was equally loyal to Mr. Bingle. Fifteen years of +kindness had not been wasted on this extraordinary servant. She was as +true as she was unique in this age of abominations. + +The older children went to a public school not far away, and Melissa +looked after the young ones through the long, slow days, relieved only +from her self-imposed duties when Mr. Bingle came home from the bank. +Neither Melissa nor Mr. Bingle had had a full day off in all these +months, and neither complained. When Sunday came, he always urged her +to spend it with friends, leaving him to attend to the midday meal and +dinner, but she firmly, even arrogantly, refused to permit any one to +meddle with her kitchen. She forced him to go to the Bronx every Sunday +afternoon, whether he would or no, and demanded a staggering decrease +in wages. + +"Why, Mr. Bingle," she said, "you can't expect me to work for the same +pay I was getting out at Seawood. Don't be silly, sir; wasn't I getting +more out there than the butler got? And didn't I save nearly every cent +of it for eight years and more? I was getting twenty-five dollars a +week out there, wasn't I? And Mr. Diggs was getting only a hundred +dollars a month, wasn't he? Well, how much could you afford to pay a +butler now if you had one, sir? Two dollars a week at the outside, find +himself. Well, I still feel I'm worth more to you than any butler you +could get, so I'll have to insist on three dollars a week when +convenient. I put away about eight thousand dollars while I was working +for you at Seawood. It's in the savings banks now, every nickel of it, +drawing three and a half and four per cent., or about twenty-five +dollars a month, sir. Twelve and twenty-five makes thirty-seven a +month, don't it? That's more than most girls are getting, and it's +certainly more than any of 'em is worth, judging from what I've seen. +So if you'll just consider that I'm getting thirty-seven a month out of +you, Mr. Bingle, we won't argue any longer." + +"But, my dear Melissa, we must consider poor Diggs. It isn't fair to +keep him waiting. I fear I shall have to discharge you. It seems to be +the only way to make you and Diggs happy. I shall discharge you without +a recommendation, too. We can't have Diggs dying of old age while we +are discussing what is to become of him. It is your duty to marry Diggs +at once. You must remember that I do not want you in my employ. You +must not forget that I told you so six months ago and that I even tried +to lock you out. Now, you certainly do not care to work for a man who +despises you, who doesn't want you around, who is doing his level best +to get rid of you, who--" + +"Oh, shucks, Mr. Bingle!" cried Melissa, with her comely grin. "Sit +down and have your breakfast now. Don't worry about Mr. Diggs. He is +having the time of his life courting me. At least, he acts as if he is. +It won't hurt him to be engaged for a couple of years." + +"But see how happy Watson is." + +"I see all right," she said shrewdly; "and it won't hurt Mr. Diggs to +see how happy he is, either." + +"You are the most selfish girl I've ever known, Melissa," said he +quaintly. "You won't let anybody else have a thing to say about it, +will you?" + +"No, sir," said Melissa. "I'm a perfect brute." + +Mr. Epps was a regular visitor. He came once a month and never later +than the first. The rent was twenty-two dollars a month. Mr. Epps was +always expecting that it wouldn't be paid. He never failed to make a +point of telling Mr. Bingle that he was what you might call a +soft-hearted lummix and for that reason it always went hard with him to +evict a tenant for not paying his rent on the minute. He talked a great +deal about the people he had chucked out into the street and how +unhappy the life of a renting agent could be at times. Once he gave Mr. +Bingle a cigar. + +"Sure I'm not robbing you?" said Mr. Bingle. + +"No," said Mr. Epps. "I don't smoke." + +There was one Broadway theatre in which it was impossible to obtain +seats unless they were applied for weeks in advance. The leading lady +in the company playing there was not so important a personage that she +could deny herself the pleasant sensation of being a real woman, and +the author of the play was not so high and mighty that one had to use a +ten-foot pole in touching him. + +Mr. and Mrs. Richard Sheridan Flanders paid frequent visits to the home +of Mr. Bingle. The beautiful and popular Miss Colgate, the sensation of +the early season and a certain candidate for stellar honours, never +came to see the young Bingles without betraying a spirit of generosity +which sometimes caused Mr. Bingle to sit up half the night treating +stomach-aches of all ages and degrees. She brought candy and cakes and +fruit for the children, and flowers for Mr. Bingle. She would have come +laden with more substantial and less pernicious presents but for the +gentle objections of her old friend and benefactor. In the face of his +kindly protests, she abandoned certain well-meant, even cherished +ideas, and was often sore at heart. + +Dick Flanders had found a producer after all. His hopes, considerably +dashed by the Supreme Court of the United States of America, were at a +low ebb when a practically unknown manager from the Far West concluded +that there was more to his play than the wise men of the East were able +to discern at a glance. With more sense than intelligence, the +Westerner leaped into the heart of New York with a new play by a new +author and scored a success from the opening night. Amy Colgate, an +unknown actress, became famous in a night, so to speak. After the +holidays, there would be a company playing the piece in Chicago, and +another doing the "big stands" throughout the length and breadth of the +land. So much for Mr. Flanders' play and Miss Amy Colgate. + +Mr. Bingle never ceased congratulating himself and his two successful +friends on the fact that he had not invested a cent of the Hooper +fortune in the production. For, said he, if he had put a penny into it, +the Hooper heirs would now be dividing the profits with Flanders. + +"Luck was with us for once, Dick," he was prone to repeat. "A week +later and we would have been desperately involved. I would have put up +the initial ten thousand dollars for the production and you would have +been saddled with Geoffrey and his sisters, perhaps for life--and I +can't imagine anything more unnecessary than that. Yes, sir, the smash +came just in the nick o' time. What at first appeared to you to be a +calamity turned out to be a God-send, my boy. The Supreme Court behaved +handsomely by you." + +This always brought out a vigorous protest from Mr. and Mrs. Flanders. +They stoutly maintained that Mr. Bingle was an original partner in the +enterprise, and, when it came right down to tacks, had put quite as +much capital into the business as either of them. They contended that +he should have a share in the royalties, if not in the profits. + +"As a matter of fact, Mr. Bingle, you made so many valuable suggestions +in respect to the play--dialogues, construction and so forth--that you +really ought to take some of the consequences," said Flanders. "It +isn't fair to put all the blame upon me. For instance, who was +responsible for cutting out that scene in the second act?" + +"Mrs. Bingle," said the other promptly. "She thought it was too +suggestive." + +"Well, it certainly was you, sir, who advised me to make more of the +scene between Deborah and the old gentleman in the last act. As you +know, it is now the great scene in the play. You will not pretend to +deny--" + +"Advice is one thing, Dick, and following it is quite another. No, you +can't make me believe that I did anything toward writing that play. A +man who didn't know the difference between a cue line and a back drop +can't very well be indicted for complicity. To tell you the truth, Mrs. +Flanders, I don't know to this day what those initials, 'L. U. E.' +stand for, and a lot of other initials as well. Pride kept me from +inquiring. I didn't want to expose my ignorance about a thing that you +and Dick talked about so glibly. What does 'L. U. E.' mean?" + +"'Left Upper Entrance,' Mr. Bingle," said she with a laugh. + +"Well, I'm glad the mystery is revealed at last. I've laid awake nights +trying to conjure up words to fit those letters. 'R. U. E.' means +'right,' I suppose. Dear me, how simple it seems, after all." + +"Now, see here, Mr. Bingle," Flanders would say, "you went into +partnership with me last winter, that's the long and short of it. It +wasn't your fault that you couldn't put up the money according to our +agreement, but I want to say to you that if it hadn't been for your +encouragement and advice I never would have finished the play and I +certainly could not have scraped up the courage to get married when I +did. Amy and I have always looked upon you as a partner in our success. +Now, I'll tell you precisely what we've decided upon as a fair division +of the royalties that I am receiving. You are to take the author's +royalty from the number three company--the one that is to play the +'road' for this season and next. It is to be a three cornered +arrangement. Amy helped to develop the play, so she is to have the +royalty from the Chicago company, while I shall receive all that comes +out of the New York run. This arrangement will hold good for two +seasons. After that, we'll make a new arrangement, taking in the stock +rights, moving pictures and--" + +But Mr. Bingle would listen to no more. Always when Flanders got just +so far in his well-meant, earnest propositions, the object of his +concern would stop him in such a gentle, dignified manner that the +young playwright would flush with the consciousness that he had given +offence to an honest soul. + +Mr. Bingle defeated every enterprise on the part of his few friends +that had the appearance of charity. He accepted their good intentions, +he delighted in their thoughtfulness and esteem, but he never permitted +them to go beyond a certain well-defined line. The argument that he had +been generous, even philanthropic, in his days of prosperity was +invariably met by the quaint contention that while the Good Book +teaches charity, the dictionary makes a point of defining it, and "you +can't spell charity, my friend, with the letters that are allotted to +generosity. So don't quote the Bible to me." + +He put a stop to the cunning schemes of Diggs and Watson, who, with +Melissa's connivance, began a regular and systematic attempt to smuggle +bacon, eggs, butter and potatoes into the kitchen. This project of +theirs at first comprehended vegetables of every description and fruits +as well, but the sagacious house-maid vetoed anything so wholesale as +all that. She agreed that the accidental delivery of a side of bacon, +or a mistake in the counting of a dozen eggs, or the overweighing and +undercharging of a pound of butter, or the perfectly natural error of +sending a peck and a half of potatoes when only a peck was ordered, +might escape the keen observation of Mr. Bingle, but that anything more +noticeable would cause the good gentleman to take his trade elsewhere. +As she said to the distressed Diggs one evening, after carefully +observing that the kitchen door was closed: "When I order a half ton of +coal from you for the parlour stove, there's no sense in you weighing +it out by ounces. Guess at it, and then after you've guessed as near +right as you know how, double the amount. Mr. Bingle isn't going to +weigh the coal, you know. And when it comes to rice and hominy and +cooking apples and all such things, just let your imagination do the +measuring. If a pound of coffee happens to look like a pound and a half +to you, don't forget the extra cups you used to have every afternoon at +Seawood. And if I should happen to send for the cheapest tea you've got +in stock, don't overlook the fact that there is an expensive kind. Once +in a while you might make ME a present of a couple of dozen oranges, +some bananas and nuts, and you might sometimes ask Mr. Bingle to sample +a new brand of smoking tobacco you're thinking of carrying." + +"But we sha'n't carry tobaccos," said Mr. Diggs, who aside from being a +good soul was also British. + +"All the more reason why you should be THINKING of carrying 'em, isn't +it, you stupid?" + +Mr. Bingle saw the opening performance of the Flanders play and went +behind the scenes afterward. He did this, he explained, so that he +could describe his sensations to Mrs. Bingle. He was introduced to all +of the players and they were so uniformly polite that he fell into a +fine fury the next morning on reading the newspaper review in which +they were described as "unintentionally adequate." + +He knew as well as every one else that it would be impossible for him +to keep the children on the salary he was receiving at the bank. He +knew that the day was not far off when he would have to give them up. +His fellow bookkeepers harangued him from morning till night. They made +themselves obnoxious with their everlasting talk about being unable to +support families one-fourth the size of his; and one or two slyly +inquired whether he hadn't "salted away" a part of the Hooper money for +a perpetual spell of rainy weather. In justice to the children +themselves it would be necessary for him, before long, to set about +finding suitable, respectable homes for them. It was this unhappy sense +of realisation that put the new furrows in his brow and took the colour +out of his cheek, the lustre from his eyes. + +One day he was approached by Rouquin, volatile and cheery as in the +days of old. The sprightly Frenchman was beaming with friendliness and +good spirits. He conveyed a startling bit of personal news to Mr. +Bingle without the slighest trace of shame or embarrassment. + +"Well, Mr. Bingle, I have married her," he said shrugging his shoulders +in a manner that might have signified either extreme satisfaction with +himself or lamentation over the inevitable. "The day before yesterday. +I am now a proud and happy father, old friend." + +"Father?" murmured Mr. Bingle, bewildered. "You--mean bridegroom, +Rouquin." + +"So I do," cried Rouquin amiably. "But you forget Napoleon--little +Napoleon," he went on gaily. + +"You have married Napoleon's mother?" + +"Le diable! But who else, M'sieur? The charming, adorable Mademoiselle +Vallemont. Ah, my good friend, I am so happy. I am--" + +"Vallemont? But Madame Rousseau--you seem to forget that she is the +mother of Napoleon. You--" + +"Nevertheless," said Rouquin, with a gay sweep of his hand before +laying it tenderly upon his heart, "I have married the mother of +Napoleon. Alas, my good friend, Madame Rousseau is no more. She died +when she was but one day old. And her excellent husband, the splendid +Jean, he also is a thing of the past. Now there is no one left but +Madame Rouquin and me and that adorable Napoleon. Vive l'Emperor! Come, +M'sieur, congratulate me. See! This cablegram provides Napoleon with a +father. But for what this little bit of paper says, the poor enfant +might have gone fatherless to his grave. See! It says here that my wife +has died. Read for yourself, M'sieur. It is in French, but what matter? +I shall translate. 'Raoul Rouquin: Blanche died to-day. Good luck.' +See, it is signed 'Pierre.' Pierre he is my brother. He lives in Paris. +Ah, so long have I waited! You may never know my despair--never, +M'sieur. But my wife she has died, so all is well. The day before +yesterday I was married. I take--" + +"For heaven's sake, Rouquin," gasped Mr. Bingle; "not so fast! I don't +know what you are talking about." + +"Ah, it is so simple," sighed Rouquin, looking upon Mr. Bingle with +pity in his eyes. "Can you not see? So long as my wife was alive I +could not be married. Is that not plain to you? Then she dies. Quick! +Instantly I am married. Voila! It is so simple." + +Mr. Bingle comprehended at last. "I see. You have had a wife in Paris +all these years, eh?" + +"Mon Dieu! Yes, all these years," groaned Rouquin, rolling his eyes. +"See! See what my brother Pierre says: 'Blanche died to-day. Good +luck.' Good luck! Mon Dieu, M'sieur, is it possible that you do not +know what 'good luck' means?" + +"And you have married Madame Rous--or whatever her name is?" + +"So quick as that!" cried Rouquin, snapping his fingers. "And now, +M'sieur, when may I come to take little Napoleon home to his mother?" + +Thus it came about that Napoleon was the first to go. Amid great pomp +and ceremony, he departed from the home of the many Bingles on a +bright, clear day in December, shortly after banking hours, attended by +his own mother and father. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE + + +Christmas was drawing near. The Bingle children, accustomed to manifold +and expensive presents, were in a state of doubt and hope combined. The +older ones realised that while Santa would not pass them by without a +sign, there was every reason to believe that he would not deliver the +things for which they slyly petitioned, the things they most desired. +They had been brought up to receive all that they expected and the +prospect ahead for them was not reassuring from the viewpoint their +intelligence forced them to take. There were secret lamentations and +not a few surly discussions in the absence of Mr. Bingle. + +Melissa took the older boys to task for some of the things they said +about their foster father. Frederick was the chief offender. He knew +that Mr. Bingle's pocket-book was the real Santa Claus, and he wanted a +pair of skates and a hockey outfit. Something told him that he would be +compelled to accept in lieu of these necessities a silly overcoat or a +pair of shoes from the cheap department store up the street. He was too +young and no doubt too selfish to admit that he was by way of +outgrowing his clothes at least once if not twice a year, or that there +is such a spectre as wear and tear. He became sullen, irritable and not +infrequently rude to Mr. Bingle. Once when Melissa sharply rebuked him +for his ingratitude, he came back at her with an argument that baffled +her for the time being: he could not see why Mr. Bingle had been so +good to Kathleen. Why had she been given a rich, happy home while he +and all of the others were brought to a place like this? Melissa, +finding no immediate response to this, boxed his ears. + +The younger members of the brood were not involved in this graceless +agitation. The complaints stopped with Guinivere. Harold, Rosemary and +Rutherford were too young to realise the state of destitution into +which the family had fallen. They were quite happy, contented and, so +far, unaware of the gravity of a situation which was more or less +apparent to their elders. Frederick, Marie Louise and Wilberforce +formed the higher group of malcontents, and their mutterings reached +the acute ears of a second and less formidable group composed of +Reginald, Henrietta and Guinivere. The influence of the three older +children, envied and imitated by the next three in order of age, was +responsible for the inclusion of this second group in the general +tendency toward unruliness and resentfulness. + +Mr. Bingle sensed this unhappy condition of affairs. His soul was +sorely tried. Was he doing the right thing by these children? He was +doing his best, but was his best all that they were entitled to under +the circumstances? Was he depriving them of a bigger chance in life? He +had taken them out of the byways, but was he leading them to the +highways? The whining, peevish submission on the part of the larger +boys and girls; the unmistakable interrogation that always lurked in +their eyes; the frequent outbursts of temper; the quarrels that came up +every day among them--all of these went to prove they were sliding back +into the byways. There was no gainsaying that, he would say to himself. +Insolence, insubordination grew apace. Once Frederick, in the heat of +passion over a well-deserved rebuke, called him a "damned old fool." + +Moreover, was he doing right by Mrs. Bingle? Was it possible that she +might never come back to him who loved her more than he could have +loved even a child of his own? Would he be the one to blame? + +And so it came about that he finally consented to listen to the +suggestions of the cold and unemotional Mrs. Force. + +The wife of the president of the bank was the sort of person who gets +into the newspapers by all the hooks and crooks known to her sex. To +begin with, she made charity a business. As Chairman of two or three +organizations declaring for the betterment of society, high and low, +she was quoted on nearly every question that came up for discussion in +the public prints. She recognised the advantage in her day of being an +anti-suffragist. She saw the value of associating herself with the +movement to create and maintain a bureau for the distribution of high +class literature among low class readers, and she belonged to a society +which elevated the stage by giving Sunday night dress rehearsals for +the benefit of destitute millionaires. She had a conspicuous box at the +Opera, and encouraged the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to +Animals by appearing at the Horse Show in Madison Garden without spurs. + +But it was as President of the Society for the Restoration of King +Manuel to the throne of Portugal that she arose above the ordinary +multitude of publicity seekers. This was a movement so unique and so +suggestive of pomp that many of the prominent show-girls tried to +promote themselves into royal notice by joining the society. They were +almost unanimously in favour of the Restoration. Mrs. Force was +constantly being interviewed about the hopes and designs of King +Manuel, and she was always quoted as saying that the "time is not yet +ripe for the unfolding of our plans or I would be only too happy to +tell you everything--and I may be able to give you something of +interest next week if you will call me up." + +Soon after the Bingle disaster, she allied herself with a Society for +the Relief of Incompetent Parents, and later on took up the cause of +Children's Rights and Wrongs. Quite palpably it was Mr. Bingle's +dilemma that inspired her to interest herself in these hitherto +neglected enterprises. She began her duties as a member and supporter +of the causes by at once declaring war upon poor Mr. Bingle. She put +him into a state of siege before he even suspected that hostilities had +begun, and then constituted herself Red Cross nurse, sanitary expert, +peace intermediary, and everything else that she could think of at the +time. + +Operations began in November. She had Mr. Bingle brought into her +husband's private office at the bank, and there she explained the +motives and objects of the Society and talked unrestrainedly of the +rights of little children, calmly assuming that the astonished +bookkeeper had no rights of his own and therefore was not entitled to a +word in the shape of interruption. + +"Purely as a matter of humanity, Mr. Bingle, it is necessary for the +Society to take these children away from you. We are taking children +away from their natural parents every day and finding suitable homes +for them, so it isn't reasonable for you to stand in our way, +realising, as you must, that you are not the father of a single one of +those poor innocents, all of whom are morally if not legally the +property of this or kindred societies. We do not recognise the rights +of a parent, so why should we consider those of one who attempts, +through a mistaken idea of benevolence, to direct the future, the +destiny of--ah--the destiny of--But surely you know what I mean, Mr. +Bingle. Now, I am not questioning the sincerity of your motives. I am +heartily in accord with the original inspiration which led you to take +these poor waifs into your home. But, don't you see, the idea works +both ways. Charity begins at home, to be sure, but I submit that it all +depends upon the character of the home. I do not call a four room flat +a home. It may be all right for charity to begin there, in a small way, +but it shouldn't drive out common sense, Mr. Bingle. The Society will +take these children off of your hands. It will provide for them in +every way. Come, now, give me a complete list of the little ones and--" + +"I'll--I'll think it over, Mrs. Force," said Mr. Bingle desolately. "I +can't be expected to see it from your point of view right at the start, +you know. Let me go on for a year or two longer and then--" + +"No," said she firmly, fixing him with a relentless eye. "We would +regret exceedingly to be forced to call upon the authorities in the +case, Mr. Bingle. Of course, you are aware that we can invoke the aid--" + +"Oh, goodness no!" cried Mr. Bingle piteously. "You wouldn't think of +taking them from me in that way, would you, Mrs. Force?" + +"For your sake and for theirs it may be necessary," said she, and then +wearying of her philanthropic labours, abruptly dismissed him with a +curt: "And now, good day, Mr. Bingle." + +Agents from the Society began to visit the little flat; others made a +practice of seeing that the older children went to school every day, +and, if they were absent, to pester Mr. Bingle with inquiries. Once +when Wilberforce had a sore throat, a strange and extremely +business-like doctor called and took a culture, at the same time making +a note of the congested condition of the sleeping quarters. + +Then Mrs. Force took to bringing fashionably dressed ladies to the flat +so that they might see for themselves; and docile looking gentlemen in +dark clothes and galoshes came to mutter over the extraordinary +impropriety of allowing boys and girls to live in the same home +together. + +Soon after Napoleon was taken away by the bride and bridegroom, Mrs. +Force came with her secretary and interviewed the children. The +secretary took down notes while Mrs. Force put the questions to the +older boys and girls. Mr. Bingle had been virtually ordered out of the +room. Afterwards he was called in to hear the report which showed that +Frederick, Marie Louise, Wilberforce and Reginald seldom had enough to +eat, were always cold and unhappy, and were really quite eager to go +into other homes, if it would help "poor daddy." The smaller children +whimpered, but it was because they were overawed and frightened by Mrs. +Force, who in the Seawood days had always been looked upon by them as +the "bad fairy." Melissa, good soul, openly professed that she and Mr. +Bingle could manage to take care of the "kids" all right, but in secret +she prayed that the Society would take away a half a dozen or so of the +little ingrates. + +At last Mr. Bingle agreed to let the children go, but stipulated that +they should be sent direct to private homes, and not go, like a flock +of sheep, into an asylum or Orphans' Home from which they might be +parcelled out singly to any Tom, Dick or Harry who came to look them +over. He also insisted on having the prospective "bidders" apply to him +in person. He would be the judge. He would look them over, and if they +suited him, all well and good; if not, he would keep the children until +the right and proper persons came along. + +His stand was a firm one. He refused to recede an inch from this final +position. In vain they argued that it would be the part of wisdom, in +fact that it would be absolutely imperative to take them to a +comfortable, commodious dormitory where the business end of such +undertakings was attended to in routine order and not in the +helter-skelter fashion that he advocated. + +"I have just begun to realise," he said, "what it is to try to bring +other people's children up for them, so, if you please, I submit that I +know more about the business than this society knows or ever can hope +to know. I have given them everything. I have loved them and they have +loved me. In adversity I still love them, but I fear that I cannot say +as much for them. They are not my flesh and blood. They know it, my +friends--they've never been led to believe that anything else is the +case. Now, I am ready and willing to carry out my obligations to them. +I am prepared to do all that is in my power to bring them up in the +right way, to make good men and women of them. I am not willing, +however, to palm them off on other people without first telling those +people what they are to expect. I do not blame these boys and girls for +resenting what fate has brought them to. It is quite natural that they +should feel as they do. I do not call it ingratitude. It is human +nature. Even a small boy may reveal symptoms of human nature, Mrs. +Force, if you get him into a corner. Now, I want to say to you and your +friends here that I will let them go on one condition, and that is that +each goes into a home that I personally approve of and only after I +have told the head of that home all that I know about the child he +seeks to adopt. I appreciate your interest in my behalf and I thank you +for your untiring efforts. I believe that you are sincerely in earnest. +But I ask you to do me the honour of permitting me to get out of my bad +bargain in my own way and in my own time. There is no especial need of +haste." + +It was pointed out to him that many of those desiring to adopt children +lived in distant states and cities, principally in small towns or upon +farms. It might be impossible for them to come to New York to see him +or the children. He still refused to give an inch. + +And so the Society, satisfied that it had achieved a victory, set about +to find fathers and mothers for the nine Bingles, and Mr. Bingle sat +down to wait for the final struggle that was to come, or, more properly +speaking, for the nine separate struggles that lay ahead of him. The +children were told what they might expect in the near future, and Mr. +Bingle's heart was sorely hurt by the very evident enthusiasm with +which they received the news. The younger ones, swept along by the +current, and less subtle than their elders, plied Mr. Bingle with a +hundred eager, innocent questions, and every one of them seemed to look +upon the coming separation as a lark! It was not unusual to catch two +or three of the older ones slyly, but excitedly discussing the +prospective change, and always they averted their eyes and dropped +their voices when Mr. Bingle drew near. Once he heard Marie Louise say +in anger to Wilberforce that she'd bet daddy would keep her to the last +because she was getting big enough to wash dishes and make beds! + +The poor man was beginning to lose faith, not in human nature alone, +but in himself. He grimly remarked to Melissa one day that "it isn't +safe to count chickens even after they are hatched, especially when +your eyes are smarting. I thought I knew more than God, Melissa, and if +there was a bramble bush handy I'd jump into it in the hope that I +might scratch my eyes back in again, as the saying goes." + +"Well, anyhow, Mr. Bingle," Melissa replied, impressed by this +confession of failure, "as soon as the kids have left we'll have Mrs. +Bingle back again, and that's something to look forward to, sir. We'll +go back to the old way of living, which was the best, after all, wasn't +it? Just you and me and Mrs. Bingle." + +Mr. Bingle hesitated for a moment. "When you and Diggs are married, +Melissa, don't make the mistake of adopting a child." + +"We won't, sir," said Melissa confidently. She twisted the corner of +her apron for a few seconds and then ventured hardily: "Miss Stokes is +expecting a baby, sir." + +"You mean Mrs. Watson, Melissa. Dear me, that is good news. A boy or a +girl? God bless my soul, what a silly question! You see, I'm so in the +habit of choosing the gender in advance that I quite forgot myself. I +meant to inquire WHEN." + +"They've been married five months, sir," said Melissa. + +Two weeks before Christmas, Mrs. Force came to the bank to report to +Mr. Bingle that homes were in view for six of the children, in fact for +all except Frederick, Marie Louise and Wilberforce. It appears that +people hesitate about taking youngsters as old as these three, and as +steeped in vice and ignorance as naturally might be expected in boys +and girls of that age. She said, however, that the Society was making a +point of telling people how nicely and how advantageously all of the +children had been reared by the late Mr. Bingle. She smiled when she +said the "late Mr. Bingle," for it was a capital joke and she had every +intention of making the most of it. + +It was proposed that the applicants should meet Mr. Bingle and the +children at the offices of the Society on the Saturday before +Christmas, which fell on a Thursday. + +Mr. Bingle objected. He said he couldn't think of letting them go +before Christmas. These people would have to wait until after Christmas +Eve, and that was final. President Force, coming to his wife's rescue, +ironically suggested to the little bookkeeper that it was barely +possible that other people were in the habit of inflicting children +with "The Christmas Carol." He flushed, however, under the mild stare +with which Mr. Bingle favoured him, and proceeded to change his tune +with considerable alacrity. A happy thought seemed to have struck him +with some suddenness. + +"By Jove, Bingle, I have a splendid scheme. What could be more fitting +than that these child-seekers should receive just what they want on +Christmas morning? That's the ticket, my dear," he said, turning to his +wife. "Fix it so that a child is delivered bright and early on +Christmas morning--in its own stockings, of course--and there you are! +A Merry Christmas for everybody, and perhaps a Happy New Year. What do +you think of it, Bingle?" + +"Splendid!" said Mr. Bingle. "I wish I could have thought of that when +I was in the business myself. It would have been great to have a new +baby every Christmas morning. I will agree to that, Mrs. Force, +provided I approve of the people I'm supposed to be Santa Claus for." + +On the Saturday before Christmas he went to the offices of the Society +with ALL of the children, for the industrious Mrs. Force had produced +claimants for the three older ones, and when he took the brood home to +supper long after seven o'clock that evening, homes and fresh parents +were assured for all of them. To be sure, Frederick and Marie Louise +objected to living on upstate farms, and Reginald howled bitterly over +being promised to a Jewish family in West End Avenue. He had set his +heart on being brought up as an Irishman. Some of them were to remain +in New York City, one was to go to Philadelphia and another to +Bridgeport. Harold, Rosemary and Rutherford were to undergo a complete +change of name. They were going into families where for sentimental +reasons, a John, a Betty and a Jeremiah were wanted. Guinivere stood in +grave danger of being called Prue, after somebody's grandmother, and +Henrietta was to be shortened to Etta. + +It was understood that the agents from the Society were to call for the +youngsters on Christmas Eve, so that they might be ready for delivery +the first thing in the morning. The Society was prepared to attend to +all of the legal requirements incident to the transfer. Mr. Bingle was +to sign what he quaintly called a "blanket affidavit," covering the +entire collection, and that was to be the end of the Bingle regime. + +Christmas Eve came at last. The day had been bitterly cold, and Mr. +Bingle coming in from his final walk with the four small children, who +had been taken out to see the lighted shop windows before the last +supper they were to have together, was blue in the face and shivering +as with a chill. Melissa caught him in the act of removing his muffler +from Rosemary's neck. He had already taken his thin overcoat from +Harold's shoulders, so she missed that part of his personal sacrifice. +She asked with considerable asperity if he was trying to get pneumonia. + +"No," said Mr. Bingle, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering; +"I'm not, Melissa. I'm trying to head off the croup." + +"You'll probably have it yourself to-night." + +"I think that would be rather jolly," he said. "I haven't had it since +I was the size of Rosemary." + +She thought he was losing his mind, and told Diggs so when he came in +at six o'clock to help her with the feast they were to have. + +"Get away from that stove, Freddy, and you too, Marie Louise," she +commanded. "Can't you see your daddy is shivering? Hustle now! Don't +soak up all the heat in the room. Let him stand in front of the fire, +you little--" + +"Now, now, Melissa," said Mr. Bingle, reproachfully; "don't blame the +kiddies. They're cold and--by the way, is there no steam in the +radiator?" + +"I shut off the measly thing awhile ago," she said. "There was too much +cold air coming up through the pipes. Honestly, Mr. Bingle, if you +happened to stand near that there radiator you'd feel a draft." + +The children were dressed in their Sunday best, prepared for the coming +exodus. They were neat and clean, and although six months had +lengthened their bodies and shortened their garments, their patches and +shreds were not so vindictive that they slapped Mr. Bingle's pride in +face, if the metaphor is permissible. + +"I hope," said he, with his thin shoulders close to the fire, "that we +will have time for 'The Christmas Carol' before they--the--" his voice +shook a little--"before the gentlemen come for you, kidlets. Perhaps if +we were to hurry supper along a little bit, Melissa, we could manage +it." + +"I don't want to hear that thing again," said Frederick boldly. He +appeared to be the leader of a movement to squash "The Christmas Carol." + +"Neither do I," said Marie Louise and Wilberforce. + +"I want to hear about Tiny Tim," piped up Rosemary, almost in tears. + +"Well, you haven't heard it all your life like we have," said +Frederick, scowling at the little one. "You've only heard it twice." + +"Dear me," sighed Mr. Bingle, in evident distress. "Don't you want to +hear 'The Carol' before you say good-bye to daddy--forever?" + +"No," said Frederick; "and I'll bet they don't read it where we're +going, either." + +"Perhaps not, Frederick," said he slowly, turning a rather wistful face +toward Melissa, who had come in with a pan full of coals. "There is one +thing I quite forgot, Melissa." + +"What's that, sir?" + +"I forgot to stipulate that the 'Carol' HAD to be read on Christmas Eve +in every one of these homes. Dear me, how could I have been so +thoughtless." + +"I wouldn't worry about that, sir. You're giving these people enough +trouble without doing that to them. And as for you, Master Frederick, +you'll probably find that instead of reading the 'Carol' to you they'll +take you out in the woodshed and give you a touch of Dante's Infernal +every once in awhile." + +"I'll--I'll kill 'em if they do," cried Frederick loudly. + +"Frederick the Great!" exclaimed Melissa with vast scorn. "Here now, +you there, get to work and fetch the chairs and stools in from the +bedrooms and put 'em up to the table. There's a couple in the kitchen, +Wilber. Hustle out and--" + +"Don't call me Wilber," snapped Wilberforce. "Haven't I always told you +I hate it? Remember you're only a servant. Don't you go--" + +"Tut, tut!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, moving over so that Melissa could +drop the coals into the stove. "Remember you are only a gentleman, +Wilberforce." + +"I'd like to know how I can remember it in a place like this," pouted +the boy. + +"It's all right, Mr. Bingle," said Melissa cheerily, "I don't mind +being called a servant. It's better than 'hired girl.'" + +There was a pathetic attempt at seasonable illumination and decoration +in the crowded living-room, sprigs of holly, some tapers and tinsel, +cotton snowballs and popcorn strands being in the least congested +corners, and the table had ten candles standing in two sedate rows. +These were not to be lighted until just before soup was served, and +each participant at the board was to light his or her candle from the +taper supplied by Melissa. + +Over in one corner of the room reposed a small pile of packages, each +neatly tied up with red ribbon. These represented the gifts of Mr. +Bingle and Melissa to the palpably indifferent youngsters. Two bottles +of milk stood on the radiator, which, according to Melissa, was +infinitely colder than the ice box in the pantry. Incidentally, it is +worth while to mention that in one of the bedrooms there were nine +compactly wrapped bundles, each marked by a name, but not tied up in +red ribbon. They contained the few belongings of the nine children, and +they were all ready for the coming of the Society's agents. During the +day Mrs. Force had sent her automobile and a footman to remove the toys +and treasures left over from the reign of plenty, taking them to +headquarters for future distribution among their owners. This was done +while Mr. Bingle was at the bank. He could not have endured this part +of the business. + +The Christmas Carol lay on the mantelpiece behind the stove, with Mr. +Bingle's reading glasses, both ready for use. + +At six-thirty Mr. Diggs appeared, laden with bundles, and at his heels +was Watson, carrying a tremendous basket. They were clad in huge fur +overcoats, their faces were red from the cold, and their voices were +vastly cheerful. + +"Merry Christmas, sir," said Diggs, and "Merry Christmas, sir," said +Watson. + +"I've taken the liberty, sir--I mean to say, Watson and I 'ave, sir--of +fetching with us a thumping big Christmas dinner for you, seeing as you +will be quite alone and--er--you might say at peace again, sir. +Melissa, my dear, you will find hall the delicacies of the season in +these 'ere parcels, and I defy hanybody to show a finer turkey than is +in that basket. Wot say, Watson?" + +"Fit to set before the King," said Watson with great pride in his voice. + +"Wherefore I say 'Long Live the King,'" said Diggs, bowing elaborately +before Mr. Bingle, whose eyes were shining as he went forward to shake +hands with his old servants. + +"God bless my soul, I--I--I thank you, gentlemen," he murmured. "But, I +say, wouldn't it be better to serve some of these things to-night, +before the children go away? What dif--" + +"Yes, yes!" shouted the children. + +"Begging your pardon, Mr. Bingle," said Diggs firmly, "but it is not to +be thought of, sir. This dinner is for you, and not a morsel is to be +served until to-morrow noon. These 'ere kids will 'ave their little +stomachs crammed full all day to-morrow and we hinsists that yours +won't be if we don't keep a pretty firm hand on you to-night, sir. Take +the things out in the kitchen, Watson, and--and 'ide 'em safe." + +"Well, well," said Mr. Bingle helplessly. "I don't know what to say, +Diggs. What would you say, Reginald, if any one was as nice to you as +Mr. Diggs and Mr. Watson are to me?" + +"I'd say open 'em up to-night and not be stingy," said Reginald, +following Watson with greedy eyes. + +Melissa glared at him. "Just for that I ought to hold back your share +of the chicken dumplings, young man!" Then she got quite red in the +face. Mr. Bingle was looking at her in amazement. + +"Chicken dumplings?" he murmured. + +"Well, you see, sir," said Melissa, "I thought as how it wouldn't +matter to you if I went out on my own hook and got a few things for a +Christmas Eve dinner--just a couple of nice fat hens, and some +asparagus, and parsley, and sweet potatoes, and--well, just a few +little things like that. Thinks I, we can't afford to let these +children go away without a bang-up meal in their little insides, so's +nobody could think they was ever hungry in their lives, and so this +morning I just stepped out and--oh, yes, I forgot, sir, I DID get a few +hot house grapes and one or two other trifles, just to make it seem +real, not to mention some celery and olives and fruitcakes." + +"Quite the thing, Melissa," said Diggs approvingly. "Quite the thing, +my dear. And did the men deliver the ham and firewood I--ahem! I beg +pardon!" + +"Are we to have firewood for dinner to-night, Diggs?" inquired Mr. +Bingle, his voice trembling a little despite his good-natured smile. + +"Oh, you stupid, blundering English," cried Melissa in a voice that +shrivelled Diggs. + +"That's it, sir, I AM a stupid, blundering Englishman right enough. +Blooming fool, sir, if you please. I didn't hintend to mention anythink +but the ham. The confounded firewood slipped in, sir. 'Owever, I trust +you'll overlook it, sir." + +"I'm not overlooking firewood in this weather, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle +drily. "Won't you sit down? Excuse me for not--" + +"Oh, no, sir, thank you. I 'ave my duties to perform. Really, sir, I--" + +"Go out into the kitchen, Mr. Diggs," commanded Melissa sharply. "God +gave you a tongue, but he didn't give you anything to hold it with." + +"Quite so, quite so," agreed the flustered Mr. Diggs, edging toward the +kitchen whence through the open door came sounds of rattling pans and +the penetrating but comforting scent of stewed chicken. + +"It is good of you and Watson to come down this evening, Diggs," said +Mr. Bingle, speaking with difficulty. "This must be the busiest night +of the year for you. How could you afford to get away?" + +"Well, sir," said Diggs, after looking to Melissa for approval or +inspiration, "we decided as how Christmas comes but once a year, and as +the boys in the shop can manage very nicely without us for a couple of +hours, we says to ourselves we would come down and 'ear the 'Christmas +Carol' if you don't mind, sir, for old times' sake. Miss Stokes--I mean +to say, Mrs. Watson, will be along presently, sir. She stopped for a +spell, to relieve the cashier while she went to supper. And--" + +"That's enough, Mr. Diggs," interrupted Melissa. "You'll spoil it if +you go on." + +"Oh, I say, Melissa--" + +"Out to the kitchen with you, and get out of that fur coat. You are +perspiring like everything." + +Mr. Bingle called Diggs back just as he was on the point of +disappearing through the door. + +"By the way, Diggs," he said, smiling broadly, "have you heard the +news?" + +"The news, sir? Is--is Mrs. Bingle--" + +"Sh!" hissed Melissa. + +"The news about Melissa. She is going to be married in this very room +two weeks from to-night, Diggs. How is that for news?" + +"Married? Good God, sir!" gasped Diggs. + +"Married to you, Diggs, and I am going to give the bride away!" + +"Oh, pshaw, Mr. Bingle!" cried Melissa, covering her flaming face with +her apron. + +"Do--do you mean it, Mr. Bingle?" cried Diggs, with beaming eyes. + +"I do. I'm getting tired of seeing you two around, so I'm going to MAKE +you get married. Now, don't say you'll refuse, Diggs, for--" + +"Refuse! God bless you, sir--I--" + +"You see," went on Mr. Bingle, coming to the poor fellow's relief, "I +have a notion that Mrs. Bingle will be home by that time, and--and +we'll get along very cosily here in--but, run along, Melissa! Bring in +the feast! Hey, children?" + +The children shouted vociferously, and Reginald, pursuing Melissa to +the door, implored her to take back what she had said about the +dumplings. To his surprise, Melissa kissed him. + +Later on, Diggs returned from the kitchen and approached Mr. Bingle, +who was sitting beside the stove with his back to the door, holding +Rosemary and Rutherford on his knees. + +"Dinner is served, sir," said Diggs in his most formal, dignified +manner. + +Mr. Bingle looked up, surprised by a voice that came resounding down +from the past. The children were already staring open-mouthed at Diggs, +who stood attired in his well-remembered dress-suit, the imposing, +self-contained figure of a butler of the most approved type. + +"God bless my soul," gasped Mr. Bingle. + +"Quite so, sir," said Diggs smoothly. He drew out Mr. Bingle's chair, +and the little man, completely dazed, sank abruptly into it. The +children found their places, chattering like magpies. + +"Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning over to speak softly in Mr. +Bingle's ear. + +Then came Watson, in braid and buttons, stiff as a ramrod, chin high in +the air, and as supercilious as any footman in all the world, carrying +the soup. After a long, dry-eyed stare at the familiar figure that had +always seemed so unreal to him in the days when everything belonged to +fairyland, Mr. Bingle dropped his eyes and began fumbling blindly for +the bone-handled fork at his plate. + +He heard Frederick cry out: "I don't want to go away now, Daddy! +Hurray! We've got Diggs and Watson back!" And then came the eager cries +of many other voices, all of one accord. They wanted to stay! He +suddenly knew why. + +Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Through the mist that covered his +eyes, he saw the champagne glass that stood alone beside his plate. + +[Illustration with caption: "Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning +over to speak softly in Mr. Bingle's ear] + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE LAST TO ARRIVE + + +Mr. Bingle was an optimist. It seems hardly necessary to make this +statement, but for the purpose of giving him a fair start along a new +line of endeavour we resort to the distinctly obvious, and then +announce that he brushed away the tears and laughed as gaily as any of +them over the surprises that followed the one which momentarily caused +him to falter. He was not given to looking upon the dark side of +things. Even as he sat there at the head of the long table, he jocosely +remarked to Diggs that he would have to borrow a saw from the janitor +the next day and reduce the size of his board by five feet at least. +Moreover, he could practice a little economy by cutting the excess +timber up into kindling wood, and no doubt something could be saved by +putting the over supply of china and glassware on the top shelves of +the pantry where it would be safe from demolition unless the house took +fire or an earthquake came along. Also a great deal more room could be +obtained in the flat by making firewood of the extra chairs, to say +nothing of the prospect of making a library and conservatory out of the +bedroom to be vacated by the boys. + +"As a matter of fact, Diggs, this flat isn't so bad as might appear, +and the location is excellent. Quite handy for the Elevated, and not +far from the river in case one wants to take a sail in pleasant +weather. The view from the kitchen windows is capital. You could see +East River quite plainly if it were not for the buildings. My idea is +to put some plants in the room over there--the conservatory, I +mean--and I expect to get a dog later on. Mrs. Bingle is very fond of +dogs. See that window over there? Well, by sticking your head out of it +a little way you can see clear to heaven." + +"THAT window, sir?" + +"Yes, sir, that very one." + +"Why, it opens into the airshaft, sir." + +"To be sure it does. You have to look straight upward, of course, if +you want to see heaven, you know. And speaking of the airshaft, I am +reminded that it is really quite a picturesque one at times. The +windows across the way are sometimes very interesting, provided the +shades are up. Usually, however, when the shades over yonder are up, I +see to it that ours are down." + +"May I fill your glass again, sir?" + +"Is it empty?" + +"Quite, sir." + +"If you don't mind, Diggs, I think I shall save the rest of the wine +until after the children have gone," said Mr. Bingle, slowly. + +Diggs reflected. "Very good, sir. A splendid idea, sir." + +"And then I shall ask you and Watson and Melissa and Mrs. Watson to +drink with me to Mrs. Bingle." + +"Thank you, sir." + +"It does my heart good to see the way these young rascals eat, Diggs. +They haven't had a dinner like this in a long time. Have a little more +chicken, Wilberforce--and some Brussels sprouts. And how about you, +Rutherford? Anything more?" + +"I'll have some more soup, daddy," said Rutherford from his high chair. +He was just ending the third course. + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + +Melissa had come in to see that everything was going along in proper +order. She looked hard at Mr. Bingle's plate and then at the gentleman +himself. He met her reproachful gaze with one of mild apology. + +"I'm saving my appetite for to-morrow, Melissa," he explained. + +"You're not eating a thing," said Melissa sternly. "Mr. Diggs, what +kind of a lummix are you? Can't you see that he's stinting himself so's +them--" + +"Now, Melissa," implored Mr. Bingle, "don't say anything on Christmas +Eve that you'll be sorry for afterwards. It's all right, I assure you. +I'm not very hungry and--" + +"But there's more than enough to go 'round," burst out Melissa +wrathfully. "There's no sense in your acting like this, Mr. Bingle." + +"Sh!" + +"Watson, give him some more of that chicken--the white meat, do you +understand? And where's the dressing? Mr. Diggs, get those rolls over +here--lively! Did he have any soup and fish? Did he--" + +"Melissa, what are you trying to do?" demanded Mr. Bingle. "Stuff me so +full I'll die in the night?" + +"And him lookin' that thin and pale and peaked," went on Melissa, +glaring at the unhappy butler and footman. "What have you got them +buttons and that striped vest for, Watson? Are you here as a spectator? +Get a move on now, both of you. And as for you, Mr. Bingle, I'm going +to stand right here and SEE that you eat. Do you suppose I got up this +meal for a joke on myself? Not much! The mashed potatoes, Watson! Never +mind, Freddy, you can have some more after your daddy's had all he +wants. Gee whiz, I'm glad I happened to come in when I did!" + +Presently the door-bell rang--a feeble, broken tinkle reminiscent of an +original economy--and Mr. Bingle laid down his salad fork with a sigh. +The children started violently and a scared, uneasy look went around +the table. + +"The Society's agents," said Mr. Bingle, closing his lips tightly to +prevent their trembling. "Freddy, will you please go to the door?" + +"Beg pardon, sir," said Watson, almost reproachfully despite his lordly +air. Then, with stately tread, he passed into the little hallway and +threw open the outer door. + +"I don't want to go," Henrietta was crying, and even Frederic looked +intently at his plate with eyes that were preparing to fill. The rest +of them were ready to whimper. After all, a bountiful meal and a full +stomach go a long way toward producing a reaction. They were not so +keen to leave Mr. Bingle as they were before the meal began. + +"Mrs. Flanders! Mr. Flanders!" announced the high-chinned Watson. + +First of all, the new arrivals paused to stare in astonishment at the +liveried footman, and then for an instant at the imperious Diggs, after +which they turned their gaze upon the table. + +"Great Scott!" gasped Flanders. "Is this a dream?" + +"Not on your life," said Watson, completely forgetting himself in an +ecstasy of delight. + +There was a tremendous hub-bub, during which Diggs and Watson had a +great deal of difficulty in keeping their places as old and +well-trained servants. They were frequently on the verge of becoming +prosperous green-grocers and joining in the jollification. + +First, the gorgeous Miss Colgate kissed Mr. Bingle, almost smothering +the poor gentleman in the wealth of furs which enveloped and adorned +her. Then she kissed nine smart little cheeks in rapid succession, all +the while crying "Merry Christmas" and "bless your heart," in chorus +with every one else and her cheery-voiced husband. + +"Just had to run down, Mr. Bingle," Flanders was shouting as he pumped +the little man's arm violently up and down. "A year ago to-night it all +happened, you remember. Celebrating the greatest of all anniversaries. +How are you? Couldn't let THIS night go by without seeing you, +sir--couldn't possibly. Can't stay but a minute, though. Due at the +theatre at half-past seven. Amy goes on early in the first, you +know--of course, you know, having ordered her on when I had her +entering when the act was half over. How are you?" + +"Fine! Fine!" gasped Mr. Bingle, almost speechless. + +"And now," cried Amy Colgate, throwing open her fur coat, revealing a +dazzling gown of black and silver, "now for the fun! Mr. Footman, will +you admit the messengers from Humpty Dumpty land?" + +In came four sprightly clowns, chalked and patched, clad in spots and +spangles, dancing like mad and grinning from ear to ear. Whirling +around the table, dodging the stove, vaulting the empty chairs, they +stopped at last to deposit in a heap upon the floor a whopping pile of +parcels and bundles, the topmost being a huge box of American Beauty +roses. Almost before the wide-eyed, gaping youngsters could realise +what had happened, the motley quartette vanished into the outer hall, +the door banged to behind them and Mr. Flanders was shouting: + +"How's that for high? Eh? That's the way we do things up at +Forty-second Street. What have you got to say now, Mr. Bingle, on this +Merry Christmas Eve?" + +Mr. Bingle, quite as excited as any of the shouting children, sat down +very suddenly in his chair at the head of the table. + +"Sit down, Dick, and you, Amy, and--and have something to eat. I--I--" +He stopped short, realising that he did not know what he was saying, +but vaguely hospitable in spite of himself. Then his arm went up to +cover his eyes. + +"We haven't time," began Flanders, but caught a warning look from his +pretty wife. + +"We will have dessert and coffee with you, Mr. Bingle," she said, +coming over to lay her hand upon his arm. + +"Tha--that's fine," gulped Mr. Bingle with a mighty and partially +successful effort to regain control of his flitting senses. And it was +some time after that before he could trust himself to join in the +merry, excited chatter. He kept on repeating "God bless my soul," in +response to nearly every remark that was directed to him. + +"You are not to open a single package until after we are gone," +commanded Amy Colgate later on, confronting the eager, covetous +children as she arose from the trunk which served as a chair for both +herself and Mr. Bingle in Diggs's hasty readjustment of the seats at +table. "The roses are for you, dear Mr. Bingle, with my love--my real +love. I know that you will take them to Mrs. Bingle to-morrow, but they +are for you to-night. Give her my love and wish her a Merry, Merry +Christmas from Dick and me. Please God she may soon come back to you +and be as she used to be." She peered intently, questioningly into his +glistening eyes, and then put her arm suddenly around his neck and +cried softly in his ear: "Oh, you dear, dear old goose!" + +"Where is Melissa?" whispered Flanders to Diggs as that functionary was +helping him into his greatcoat. + +"Almost on your very 'eels, sir," said Diggs, as nervous as any one +else. + +"I say, Melissa," said Flanders, turning upon the beaming hand-maiden, +who stood in the kitchen door with Watson's wife, "let me have a look +at your kitchen." He fairly pushed his way into the kitchen, dragging +her after him. "Hush! Don't interrupt me, my girl. He may suspect +something and come hustling out here after us. Now, Melissa, I trust +you as I would trust the Government of the United States. You are as +honest as the sun, so I'm taking no chances in handing you this little +package to be delivered to Mr. Bingle when he sits down to his lonely +breakfast on Christmas morning. The kids will be all gone and +he'll--well, he'll need something to brace him up a bit. Now, pay +attention: this is a copy of the first edition of 'The Christmas +Carol,' and stuck between the leaves is something that would cause this +flat to be robbed to-night if the news got down to the Bowery. Are you +listening?" + +"I--I am, sir," gasped Melissa, gripping the small package tightly and +shooting a look of apprehension at the kitchen window as if expecting +to see a thief pop into the fifth story window. + +"Well, there is a thousand dollar bill concealed in that book. Don't +drop it! It won't bite you. Put it under your pillow to-night, and be +sure he gets it for breakfast. The little note will explain everything." + +"Goodness, Mr. Flanders, it's a dreadful thing to have in bed with a +person. I won't sleep a wink." + +"So much the better," said Flanders cheerfully. "Now, you'll not forget +to have it at his place in the morning, will you?" + +"If I live through the night, sir, it will be served with his coffee. I +shan't even tell Mr. Diggs." She did not mean this as a reflection upon +the integrity of her suitor, but, fearing that it might be taken as +such, she made haste to add: "So if I'm found murdered in my bed, you +needn't accuse him of doing it." + +In the meantime, Amy Colgate had kissed all of the children again and +was standing guard over the heap of presents, talking so gaily and so +incessantly that, despite Mr. Bingle's glances in the direction of the +kitchen, he was unable to satisfy his curiosity. + +"You really are quite cosy here, Mr. Bingle," she was saying. "Have you +anything new to show me?" + +He pondered. "I think there's a new hole in the carpet over there, Mrs. +Flanders. And I've taken a new lease on life. Dr. Fiddler dropped in at +the bank yesterday to tell me that Mrs. Bingle may be able to come home +before long, so you see I shall have to get busy fixing the place up a +bit. She likes to have everything neat and tidy, you know." + +"Is she still with her mother?" + +"Certainly. Fiddler says she may have to go to the hospital for a while +before coming here, but it's nothing to be worried about. A trifling +operation, he says. He's like all doctors. You never can get 'em to +commit themselves. I shall go up to see her to-morrow. I've got a +little present for her, you know. I've sort of been expecting something +from her to-night--a pair of slippers or a half dozen handkerchiefs or +something like that--but perhaps they will come in the morning. She +never forgets me. Of course, being sick and discouraged may have kept +her from--and then again, on the other hand, she may have crochetted me +a dressing gown or a fancy waistcoat and prefers to give it to me when +I go out to see her to-morrow, not wanting to trust it to the Express +Company, don't you know. Well, Dick, how do you like our kitchen?" + +"Bully! Come along, Amy. We mustn't be late. See you soon, Mr. Bingle. +You must bring Mrs. Bingle up to see the piece as soon as she's able. +By George, we ARE doing business, though. Sixteen thousand dollars last +week. Turning 'em away every night. Seventeen hundred dollars last +night and--" + +"Hush, Dick! Mr. Bingle knows you are an author. You don't have to act +the part, you know." + +"Right you are. It's getting to be a habit. I can't help contrasting +this Christmas Eve with the one a year ago. I didn't have ten dollars +to my name when I went out to hear you read 'The Christmas Carol,' Mr. +Bingle." + +"And now I haven't ten dollars to my name," said Mr. Bingle cheerily. +"Luck is like the sun, Dick. It doesn't stay up all the time. Sometimes +I look back upon the past ten years and wonder if they don't belong to +the fellow who wrote the 'Arabian Nights' and not to me. They were not +real, not a bit of it. And yet I can't remember ever having found a +queer old jar at the seashore, nor having released a good geni from its +smoky insides. So I suppose I really must have lived them." + +"Don't let yourself get lonely, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders, gripping +the other's hand. "Don't allow yourself to mope over the loss of +these--ahem! They will all have nice, happy homes and grow up to be +splendid--" + +"Come on, Dick," called his wife from the little hall, where she was +surrounded by a suddenly repressed group of children. She had been +whispering something to them, and they were ashamed. + +The door-bell gave forth its stuttering tinkle once more, and again the +impassive Watson stalked to the entry. The next instant a white-furred +figure bounded through the door, rushed across the room and +precipitated itself forcibly into the arms of Mr. Bingle, who barely +had time to prepare himself for the onslaught. + +It was Kathleen. Behind her stalked the elegant Mr. and Mrs. Sydney +Force. + +There had been a time when Mrs. Force scarcely deigned to notice Miss +Amy Fairweather. But there is a great difference between a poor +governess and a popular goddess. The bright and shining star of +Broadway, with a suite of rooms at the Plaza, a fascinating and +much-courted husband, and a firm grasp on the shifting attention of the +idle rich, was a person to be recognised even by the charitably +inclined. And so Mrs. Force neglected to employ her lorgnon in +scrutinising Miss Colgate, and made the most of an opportunity to +release a long-suppressed effusiveness. + +Later on, in a moment of quiet obtained by a somewhat imperative +command to the noisy children, she announced to Mr. Bingle that she +must be running along to a dinner and the opera, and that she hoped he +would have everything ready when the agents for the Society called at +half-past eight, so that there would be no delay in getting the +youngsters off in a specially chartered Fifth Avenue stage. Then she +turned sweetly to Miss Amy Colgate and said: + +"May I take you up town in my car, Mrs. Flanders?" + +Mrs. Flanders replied just as sweetly. "No, thank you, Mrs. Force. Our +own limousine is waiting." + +"We've come to hear the 'Christmas Carol,' Bingle," said Mr. Force +after his wife and Mr. and Mrs. Flanders had gone. "Kathleen and I +expect to come to see you on every Christmas Eve, if you'll have us. +You've got us on your hands, old man, and you can't shake us off." + +"God bless my soul," said Mr. Bingle, visibly moved. "I remember that +you DID use it as an argument when you took Kathleen away from me. +Still, I bear it no grudge." + +"I love the 'Christmas Carol,' Daddy," cried Kathleen, snuggling close +to him. + +"Sh! You must not call me Daddy now, dear." + +"I shall! You'll always be my daddy." + +"And how about--" he pointed to Mr. Force. + +"Oh," she said easily, "I call him father." + +Then came the distribution of presents. A footman brought up numerous +gifts from the rich Kathleen to her one time foster brothers and +sisters. They had nothing to give to her in return, and Mr. Bingle +afterwards said that it was greatly to their credit that they were able +to look at him with an accusation in their eyes, for, said he, it went +to prove that they were mortified over not being in a position to +observe the old rule about giving and receiving. As a matter of fact, +several of them tried to transfer to Kathleen the simple, inexpensive +presents he had just given to them out of his own humble pile, all of +which, he argued, went far toward establishing his point, +notwithstanding the fact that they manifestly despised the very things +they were so ready to give away. He overheard Frederick whispering to +Kathleen that he hoped he was going to a place where he could have +enough money to buy her the right kind of a present for her next +Christmas, and that it was rotten luck to be as poor as all this. Mr. +Bingle strained his ears to catch Kathleen's reply, and it was such +that his face brightened; he afterwards sidled up to her and stroked +her hair with loving, gentle fingers. + +There was one rather large, cumbersome pasteboard box in the corner, +which Diggs passed up to him the last of all. + +"Don't open it till to-morrow, Mr. Bingle," said Melissa in a panic, +whereupon Diggs jerked it away from him with more haste than good +manners. It was marked quite plainly: "To Mr. Bingle from Melissa," and +bright and early the next morning it turned out to be a fur lined +overcoat. + +Once more Melissa was dragged into the kitchen, this time by the +furtive, uneasy Mr. Force. While they were out of the room a messenger +boy came to the front door with a small package for Mr. Bingle. + +"Ah, at last, something from Mary. I was sure she wouldn't forget me on +Christmas Eve. She never has and I'm sure--Hello! This isn't her +writing. 'Monsieur Thomas Singleton Bingle.' Now what can--" + +"Open it, Daddy," cried Kathleen. + +"Stand back! Maybe it's an infernal machine. These anarchists are +blowing up all the rich men in town nowadays. This may be the end of +me. Ah!" He had cut the string with a carving knife and now exposed to +view a box of cigars. There was a card attached. With some difficulty +he made out: "From your life-long friend, with best wishes for a Merry +Christmas and a Happy New Year." It was signed by "Napoleon." + +Mr. Force had closed the door behind him. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, +after a curt nod of the head to Mrs. Watson, who was vainly trying to +wash the dishes and at the same time see all that was going on in the +outer room. + +"See here, young woman, I want you to give these two envelopes to Mr. +Bingle when he comes in to breakfast in the morning." He produced two +long blue envelopes and thrust them into her hand. "Not a word to him +to-night, d'you hear? Put them under your pillow and sleep on 'em--with +one eye open if possible." + +"Good gracious," she said, with her broadest grin, "I shan't sleep for a +week. They look terribly important." + +"I'll tell you what they contain," said Mr. Force, after a moment. "You +ought to know what you are guarding, my girl. This one contains +Kathleen's present. Do you remember that pretty little cottage and farm +just above my place in the country? The cottage with the ivy and the +maples and the old stone wall? Well, this is a deed to that property. +It is my daughter's present to her 'daddy,' the gentleman who made her +the lady she is and who has just made a new man of Sydney Force. This--" + +"Gee!" exclaimed Melissa, pop-eyed and trembling with joy. "What next? +Now, I've got to sleep on a house and lot, besides--" She caught +herself up in time. + +"This envelope contains my present to him. It is an appointment as +manager and superintendent of my estates in Westchester County and in +Connecticut--for life, Melissa. You won't fail to give them to him for +breakfast, will you?" + +"God bless my soul!" gasped Melissa, unconsciously falling into a +life-long habit of the man who loved everybody. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +The agents came at eight o'clock, a gloomy man in uniform and two +kind-looking, sweet-faced women in brown. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +Mr. Bingle's voice broke occasionally as he read "The Christmas Carol" +to a silent, attentive audience made up of Kathleen and Sydney Force, +Melissa, Diggs and the two Watsons. Fortunately, he knew the story so +well that he was not called upon to perform the impossible. It was +seldom that he could see the print on account of the mist that lay in +his tired, forlorn grey eyes. + +Far below in the street outside, a half-frozen clarinetist was sending +up a mournful carol from the mouth of his reed. Somewhere in the +distance a high-voiced child was singing. And the wind played a dirge +as it marched past the windows of the candle-lighted flat. + +At last he came to the end. He laid the book upon the table, fumbled +for his spectacle case, and contrived to smile as he held out a hand to +Kathleen. + +"You will come every Christmas Eve, won't you, Deary?" he said. + +"Yes, Daddy," murmured Kathleen, between the sobs that Tiny Tim had +drawn from her soft little heart. "Every Christmas Eve, Daddy?" + +"Then it won't be so bad as it seems now," he said gently. Not a word +said he of the nine children who had gone away. + +Mr. Force had glanced surreptitiously at his watch at least a dozen +times during the reading of the story. An anxious frown settled on his +brow and an observer might have remarked the strange, listening +attitude that he affected at times, such as the alert cocking of his +head and an intense squinting of the eyes. + +"Now, if my dear Mary could only pop in on us and--" but Mr. Bingle +choked up suddenly and turned his attention to the stirring of the +coals in the stove. + +The door-bell pealed again, this time with surprising authority and +decision. Mr. Bingle started as if shot. As he faced the little hall, +his eyes were wide with an incredulous stare of wonder. + +"Good God in heaven," he murmured, "can it be possible that--but no! It +cannot be Mary. That would be too wonderful. Watson--Melissa, will you +please see who's--who's there?" + +As rigid as a post he stood over the stove, holding the poker in his +hand, his eyes fastened upon the door as Watson sprang to open it. The +cheerful voice of old Dr. Fiddler--the GREAT Dr. Fiddler--came roaring +into the room ahead of its owner. + +"By the Lord Harry, it's a cold night--Hello! What's this? Liveried +servants again? Well, upon my soul, I--Ah, there you are, Bingle! How +are you, Force?" + +The next instant he was wringing Mr. Bingle's hand and booming +Christmas greetings to every one in hearing--and out of it, for that +matter, such a voice he had! + +"Mary? What--how is she, Doctor?" cried Mr. Bingle, peering beyond the +bulky form of the doctor as if expecting to see his wife in the little +hallway. + +"Fine as a fiddle," said Dr. Fiddler, using a pet and somewhat personal +phrase. + +"No--no bad news?" stammered Mr. Bingle. "You're not trying to break +anything gently to me, are you?" + +"Gently?" roared the doctor. "Does a rhinoceros break things gently?" +He threw off his great ulster and began jerking at his gloves. "Just +thought I'd run down to see you, Bingle. Christmas Eve comes but once a +year. Hope I'm not too late for the Carol. I missed hearing it last +year, and--" + +"If you'll swear to me that Mary is all right, I'll--I'll read it over +again," cried Mr. Bingle. + +"I swear it on my word as a gentleman," said Fiddler, "but for heaven's +sake don't read it over again. I'll take it for granted. Besides I +always cry when we get to the Tiny Tim part, so--I say Force, don't you +cry?" + +"I did to-night," said Sydney Force, his face beaming. + +"And you, Diggs?" + +"Like a blooming baby, sir," said Diggs, and Watson blew his nose +violently. + +"Doctor, I thought for a moment that it was Mary at the door," said Mr. +Bingle slowly. He was still trembling. + +"Oh, she won't be here for a couple of weeks, Bingle--perhaps three. +But she's coming, old man--coming with banners flying and bells on her +toes. 'Gad, you won't know her when you see her to-morrow." He sent a +quick, frowning glance around the room. "They're gone, eh? All of 'em? +Good! I must tell you in advance, Bingle, that Mrs. Bingle will have to +bring a nurse with her--for a while, at least. So, you see, we'll need +all the room--" + +"A nurse? Oh, my Lord!" gasped Mr. Bingle, dropping into a chair as his +knees gave way beneath him. "Is--is it as bad as that?" + +"Cheer up!" cried the doctor, laying a hand upon his shoulder, and +suddenly giving him a violent shake. "Nothing to be alarmed over, I +give you my word. She's as fine as a fiddle, I tell you. And now, give +me a full glass of that amazing egg-nogg you make, Bingle. I'm frozen +to the bone." + +"Egg-nogg?" murmured Mr. Bingle, helplessly. "Why, God bless my soul, +I--I never thought of it. Melissa, have we any whiskey in the house? +No, of course not--and we have no cream, I fear, so--" + +"Beg pardon, sir," interrupted Diggs, "we 'ave all of the hingredients. +Watson 'appened to think of the cold trip 'ome, sir." + +"Sit down, then," cried Mr. Bingle. "I'll mix the grog for you, Doctor, +in two shakes of a lamb's tail." + +He flew into the kitchen. Instantly Mr. Force had Dr. Fiddler by the +arm. The others crowded close about the pair. + +"How is it, Doctor? All right?" + +"Wonderful!" whispered Dr. Fiddler. "She WOULD have her own way about +it, and, by gad, I think she was inspired, now that it's turned out so +beautifully. Half-past six this morning. She's a strong, perfect woman. +I've got my car waiting downstairs and as soon as I've broken the news +to him by degrees--don't want him to knock under completely, you +know--I'm going to take him up to the hospital." + +Melissa leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. + +"Boy or girl, Doctor?" she whispered. + +"A boy, God bless him," said Dr. Fiddler. + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Bingle, by George Barr McCutcheon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Mr. Bingle + +Author: George Barr McCutcheon + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5963] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 1, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MR. BINGLE *** + + + + +Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team. + + + +MR. BINGLE + +BY George Barr McCutcheon + +Author of "Graustark," "The Hollow of Her Hand," +"The Prince of Graustark," etc. + +With Illustrations by +JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG + + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES + II RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION + III THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE + IV FORTY MINUTES LATE + V THE STORY OF JOSEPH + VI THE HONORABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE + VII SEARCHERS REWARDED +VIII THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK + IX THE MAN CALLED HINMAN + X MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL + XI A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE + XII THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON +XIII TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! + XIV THE LAW'S LAST WORD + XV DECEMBER + XVI ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE +XVII THE LAST TO ARRIVE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES + + +A coal fire crackled cheerily in the little open grate that supplied +warmth to the steam-heated living-room in the modest apartment of Mr. +Thomas S. Bingle, lower New York, somewhere to the west of Fifth +Avenue and not far removed from Washington Square--in the wrong +direction, however, if one must be precise in the matter of +emphasizing the social independence of the Bingle family--and be it +here recorded that without the genial aid of that grate of coals the +living-room would have been a cheerless place indeed. Mr. Bingle had +spent most of the evening in trying to coax heat from the lower +regions into the pipes of the seventh heaven wherein he dwelt, and +without the slightest sign of success. The frigid coils in the corner +of the room remained obdurate. If they indicated the slightest symptom +of warmth during the evening, it was due entirely to the expansive +generosity of the humble grate and not because they were moved by +inward remorse. They were able, however, to supply the odour of far- +off steam, as of an abandoned laundry; and sometimes they chortled +meanly, revealing signs of an energy that in anything but a steam pipe +might have been mistaken for a promise to do better. + +Mr. Bingle poked the fire and looked at his watch. Then he crossed to +the window, drew the curtains and shade aside and tried to peer +through the frosty panes into the street, seven stories below. A holly +wreath hung suspended in the window, completely obscured from view on +one side by hoar frost, on the other by a lemon-coloured window shade +that had to be handled with patience out of respect for a lapsed +spring at the top. He scraped a peep-hole in the frosty surface, and, +after drying his fingers on his smoking jacket, looked downward with +eyes a-squint. + +"Do sit down, Tom," said his wife from her chair by the fireplace. "A +watched pot never boils. You can't see them from the window, in any +event." + +"I can see the car when it stops at the corner, my dear," said Mr. +Bingle, enlarging the peep-hole with a vigour that appeared to be +aggravated by advice. "Melissa said seven o'clock and it is four +minutes after now." + +"You forget that Melissa didn't start until after she had cleared away +the dinner things. She--" + +"I know, I know," he interrupted, still peering. "But that was an hour +ago, Mary. I think a car is stopping at the corner now. No! It didn't +stop, so there must have been some one waiting to get on instead of +off." + +"Do come and sit down. You are as fidgety as a child." + +"Dear me," said Mr. Bingle, turning away from the window with a +shiver, "how I pity the poor unfortunates who haven't a warm fire to +sit beside tonight. It is going to be the coldest night in twenty +years, according to the--there! Did you hear that?" He stepped to the +window once more. The double ring of a street-car bell had reached his +ears, and he knew that a car had stopped at the corner below. +"According to the weather report this afternoon," he concluded, re- +crossing the room to sit down beside the fire, very erect and +expectant, a smile on his pinched, eager face. He was watching the +hall door. + +It was Christmas Eve. There were signs of the season in every corner +of the plain but cosy little sitting-room. Mistletoe hung from the +chandelier; gay bunting and strands of gold and silver tinsel draped +the bookcase and the writing desk; holly and myrtle covered the wall +brackets, and red tissue paper shaded all of the electric light +globes; big candles and little candles flickered on the mantelpiece, +and some were red and some were white and yet others were green and +blue with the paint that Mr. Bingle had applied with earnest though +artless disregard for subsequent odours; packages done up in white and +tied with red ribbon, neatly double-bowed, formed a significant +centrepiece for the ornate mahogany library table--and one who did not +know the Bingles would have looked about in quest of small fry with +popping, covetous eyes and sleekly brushed hair. The alluring scent of +gaudily painted toys pervaded the Christmas atmosphere, quite +offsetting the hint of steam from more fortunate depths, and one could +sniff the odour of freshly buttered pop-corn. All these signs spoke of +children and the proximity of Kris Kringle, and yet there were no +little Bingles, nor had there ever been so much as one! + +Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were childless. The tragedy of life for them lay +not in the loss of a first-born, but in the fact that no babe had ever +come to fill their hungry hearts with the food they most desired and +craved. Nor was there any promise of subsequent concessions in their +behalf. For fifteen years they had longed for the boon that was denied +them, and to the end of their simple, kindly days they probably would +go on longing. Poor as they were, neither would have complained if +fate had given them half-a-dozen healthy mouths to feed, as many +wriggling bodies to clothe, and all the splendid worries that go with +colic, croup, measles, mumps, broken arms and all the other ailments, +peculiar, not so much to childhood as they are paramount to +parenthood. + +Lonely, incomplete lives they led, with no bitterness in their souls, +loving each other the more as they tried to fill the void with songs +of resignation. Away back in the early days Mr. Bingle had said that +Christmas was a bleak thing without children to lift the pall--or +something of the sort. + +Out of that well-worn conclusion--oft expressed by rich and poor +alike--grew the Bingle Foundation, so to speak. No Christmas Eve was +allowed to go by without the presence of alien offspring about their +fire-lit hearth, and no strange little kiddie ever left for his own +bed without treasuring in his soul the belief that he had seen Santa +Claus at last--had been kissed by him, too--albeit the plain-faced, +wistful little man with the funny bald-spot was in no sense up to the +preconceived opinions of what the roly--poly, white-whiskered, red- +cheeked annual visitor from Lapland ought to be in order to make +dreams come true. + +The Bingles were singularly nephewless, nieceless, cousinless. There +was no kindly-disposed relative to whom they could look for the loan +of a few children on Christmas Eve, nor would their own sensitiveness +permit them to approach neighbours or friends in the building with a +well-meant request that might have met with a chilly rebuff. One +really cannot go about borrowing children from people on the floor +below and the floor above, especially on Christmas Eve when children +are so much in demand, even in the most fortunate of families. It is +quite a different matter at any other time of the year. One can always +borrow a whole family of children when the mother happens to feel the +call of the matinee or the woman's club, and it is not an uncommon +thing to secure them for a whole day in mid-December. But on Christmas +Eve, never! And so Mr. and Mrs. Bingle, being without the natural +comforts of home, were obliged to go out into the world searching for +children who had an even greater grudge against circumstances. They +frequently found their guests of honour in places where dishonour had +left them, and they gave them a merry Christmas with no questions +asked. + +The past two Christmas Eves had found them rather providentially +supplied with children about whom no questions had ever been asked: +the progeny of a Mr. and Mrs. Sykes. Mr. Sykes being dead, the care +and support of five lusty youngsters fell upon the devoted but far +from rugged shoulders of a mother who worked as a saleswoman in one of +the big Sixth Avenue shops, and who toiled far into the night before +Christmas in order that forgetful people might be able to remember +without fail on the morning thereafter. She was only too glad to lend +her family to Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. More than that, she was ineffably +glad, on her own account, that it was Christmas Eve; it signified the +close of a diabolical season of torture at the hands of a public that +believes firmly in "peace on earth" but hasn't the faintest conception +of what "good will toward men" means when it comes to shopping at +Christmas-time. + +Mrs. Sykes' sister Melissa had been maid-of-all-work in the modest +establishment of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle for a matter of three years and a +half. It was she who suggested the Sykes family as a happy solution to +the annual problem, and Mr. Bingle almost hugged her for being so +thoroughly competent and considerate! + +It isn't every servant, said he, who thinks of the comfort of her +employers. Most of 'em, said he, insist on going to a chauffeurs' ball +or something of the sort on Christmas Eve, but here was a jewel-like +daughter of Martha who actually put the interests of her master and +mistress above her own, and complained not! And what made it all the +more incomprehensible to him was the fact that Melissa was quite a +pretty girl. There was no reason in the world why she shouldn't have +gone to the ball and had a good time instead of thinking of them in +their hours of trouble. But here she was, actually going out of her +way to be kind to her employers: supplying a complete family for +Christmas Eve purposes and never uttering a word of complaint! + +The more he thought of it, the prettier she became. He mentioned it to +his wife and she agreed with him. Melissa was much too pretty, said +Mrs. Bingle, entirely without animus. And she was really quite a +stylish sort of girl, too, when she dressed up to go out of a Sunday. +Much more so, indeed, than Mrs. Bingle herself, who had to scrimp and +pinch as all good housewives do if they want to succeed to a new dress +once a year. + +Melissa had something of an advantage over her mistress in that she +received wages and was entitled to an afternoon off every fortnight. +Mrs. Bingle did quite as much work about the house, ate practically +the same food, slept not half so soundly, had all the worry of making +both ends meet, practised a rigid and necessary economy, took no +afternoons off, and all without pecuniary compensation--wherein rests +support for the contention that Melissa had the better of her mistress +when all is said and done. Obviously, therefore, Mrs. Bingle was not +as well off as her servant. True, she sat in the parlour while Melissa +sat in the kitchen, but to offset this distinction, Melissa could sing +over her pans and dishes. + +Mr. Bingle, good soul, insisted on keeping a servant, despite the +strain on his purse, for no other reason than that he couldn't bear +the thought of leaving Mrs. Bingle alone all day while he was at the +bank. (Lest there should be some apprehension, it should be explained +that he was a bookkeeper at a salary of one hundred dollars a month, +arrived at after long and faithful service, and that Melissa had but +fifteen dollars a month, food and bed.) Melissa was company for Mrs. +Bingle, and her unfailing good humour extended to Mr. Bingle when he +came home to dinner, tired as a dog and in need of cheer. She joined +in the table-talk with unresented freedom and she never failed to +laugh heartily over Mr. Bingle's inspired jokes. Altogether, Melissa +was well worth her wage. She was sunshine and air to the stifled +bookkeeper and his wife. + +And now, for the third time, she was bringing the five rollicking +Sykeses to the little flat beyond Washington Square, and for the +thousandth time Mr. and Mrs. Bingle wondered how such a treasure as +Melissa had managed to keep out of heaven all these years. + +Mr. Bingle opened the front door with a great deal of ceremony the +instant the rickety elevator came to a stop at the seventh floor, and +gave greeting to the five Sykeses on the dark, narrow landing. He +mentioned each by name and very gravely shook their red-mittened paws +as they sidled past him with eager, bulging eyes that saw only the +Christmas trappings in the room beyond. + +"Merry Christmas," said the five, not quite in one voice but with +well-rehearsed vehemence, albeit two tiny ones, in rapt contemplation +of things beyond, quite neglected their duty until severely nudged by +Melissa, whereupon they said it in a shrill treble at least six times +without stopping. + +"I am very pleased to see you all," said Mr. Bingle, beaming. "Won't +you take off your things and stay awhile?" + +It was what he always said to them, and they always said, "Yes, thank +you," following out instructions received on the way down town, and +then, in some desperation, added, "Mr. Bingle," after a sententious +whisper from their aunt. + +They were a rosy, clean-scrubbed lot, these little Sykeses. Their +mother may not have fared overly well herself, but she had contrived +to put flesh and fat on the bones of her progeny, and you would go a +long way before you would find a plumper, merrier group of children +than those who came to the Bingle flat on Christmas Eve in their very +best garments and with their very best appetites. The eldest was ten, +the youngest four, and it so happened that the beginning and the end +of the string were boys, the three in between being Mary, Maud, and +Kate. + +Mrs. Bingle helped them off with their coats and caps and mufflers, +then hugged them and lugged them up to the fire, while Melissa removed +her skunk tippet, her poney coat and a hat that would have created +envy in the soul of a less charitable creature than the mistress of +the house. + +"And now," said Mr. Bingle, confronting the group, "who made you?" + +"God, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, very much after the habit of +a dog that is ordered to "speak." + +"And who was it that said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me?'" + +"Jesus, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, eyeing the pile on the +table. + +"And where do you expect to go when you die?" demanded Mr. Bingle, +with great severity. + +"Heaven!" shouted the perfectly healthy Sykeses. + +"How is your mother, Mary?" asked Mrs. Bingle, always a rational +woman. + +Mary bobbed. "She's working, ma'am," said she, and that was all she +knew about her mother's state of health. + +"Are you cold?" inquired Mr. Bingle, herding them a little closer to +the grate. + +"Yes," said two of the Sykeses. + +"Sir," admonished Melissa. + +"Sir!" said all of the Sykeses. + +"Now, draw up the chairs," said Mr. Bingle, clearing his throat. +"Mary, you'd better take Kate and Georgie on your lap, and suppose you +hold Maud, Melissa. It will be more cosy." This was his way of +overcoming the shortage in chairs. + +Now, it was Mr. Bingle's custom to read "The Christmas Carol" on +Christmas Eve. It was his creed, almost his religion, this heart- +breaking tale by Dickens. Not once, but a thousand times, he had +proclaimed that if all men lived up to the teachings of "The Christmas +Carol" the world would be sweeter, happier, nobler, and the churches +could be put to a better use than at present, considering (as he said) +that they now represent assembling places for people who read neither +Dickens nor the Scripture but sing with considerable intelligence. It +was his contention that "The Christmas Carol" teaches a good many +things that the Church overlooks in its study of Christ, and that the +surest way to make good men out of ALL boys is to get at their hearts +while their souls are fresh and simple. Put the New Testament and "The +Christmas Carol" in every boy's hand, said he, and they will create a +religion that has something besides faith for a foundation. One +sometimes forgets that Christ was crucified, but no one ever forgets +what happened to Old Scrooge, and as Mr. Bingle read his Bible quite +assiduously it is only fair to assume that he appreciated the +relativeness of "The Christmas Carol" to the greatest Book in all the +world. + +For twenty years or more, he had not once failed to read "The Carol" +on Christmas Eve. He knew the book by heart. Is it any wonder, then, +that he was a gentle, sweet-natured man in whom not the faintest +symptom of guile existed? And, on the other hand, is it any wonder +that he remained a bookkeeper in a bank while other men of his +acquaintance went into business and became rich and arrogant? Of +course, it is necessary to look at the question from both directions, +and for that reason I mention the fact that he remained a bookkeeper +while those who scorned "The Christmas Carol" became drivers of men. + +Experience--and some sage conclusions on the part of his wife--had +taught him, after years of unsatisfactory practice, that it was best +to read the story BEFORE giving out presents to the immature guests. +On a great many occasions, the youngsters--in those early days they +were waifs--either went sound asleep before he was half way through or +became so restless and voracious that he couldn't keep his place in +the book, what with watching to see that they didn't choke on the +candy, break the windows or mirrors with their footballs, or put some +one's eye out with a pop-gun. + +[Illustration with caption: The "kiddies" kept their eyes and ears +open and sat very still while he read to them of Tiny Tim and his +friends] + +Of late he had been reading the story first and distributing the +"goodies" and toys afterward. It was a splendid arrangement. The +"kiddies" kept their eyes and ears open and sat very still while he +read to them of Tiny Tim and his friends. And when Mr. Bingle himself +grinned shamefacedly through his tears and choked up so that the words +would not come without being resolutely forced through a tightened +throat, the sympathetic audience, including Mrs. Bingle and Melissa-- +and on one occasion an ancient maiden from the floor above--wept +copiously and with the most flattering clamour. + +A small reading-lamp stood on the broad arm of his chair, which faced +the expectant group. Mr. Bingle cleared his throat, wiped his +spectacles, and then peered over the rims to see that all were +attending. Five rosy faces glistened with the sheen of health and soap +lately applied with great force by the proud but relentless Melissa. + +"Take off your ear-muffs, James," said Mr. Bingle to the eldest Sykes, +who immediately turned a fiery red and shrank down in his chair +bitterly to hate his brothers and sisters for snickering at him. +"There! That's much better." + +"They're new, Mr. Bingle," explained Melissa. "He hasn't had 'em off +since yesterday, he likes 'em so much. Put 'em in your pocket, Jimmy. +And now listen to Mr. Bingle. Are you sure they ain't too heavy for +you, ma'am? Georgie's getting pretty big--oh, excuse me, sir." + +Mr. Bingle took up the well-worn, cherished book and turned to the +first page of the text. He cleared his throat again--and again. +Hesitation at a time like this was unusual; he was clearly, suddenly +irresolute. His gaze lingered for a moment on the white knob of a door +at the upper end of the room, and then shifted to his wife's face. + +"I wonder, my dear, if Uncle Joe couldn't be persuaded to come in and +listen to the reading," he ventured, a wistful gleam in his eyes. +"He's been feeling better the last few days. It might cheer him--" + +"Cheer your granny," said Mrs. Bingle scornfully. "It's no use. I +asked him just before dinner and he said he didn't believe in +happiness, or something to that effect." + +"He is the limit," said Melissa flatly. "The worst grouch I've ever +seen, Mr. Bingle, even if he is your own flesh and blood uncle. He's +almost as bad as Old Scrooge." + +"He is a sick man," explained Mr. Bingle, lowering his voice; "and he +hasn't known very much happiness in his lifetime, so I suppose we +ought to overlook--er, ahem! Let me see, where was I?" He favoured +young Mary Sykes with a genial grin. "Where was I, Mary?" + +Mary saw her chance. Without a trace of shame or compunction, she said +page seventy-eight, and then the three grown people coughed in great +embarrassment. + +"You sha'n't come next Christmas," whispered Melissa very fiercely +into Mary's ear, so ominously, in fact, that Mary's lip began to +tremble. + +"Page one," she amended, in a very small voice. James moved uneasily +in his chair, and Mary avoided his gaze. + +"I believe I'll step in and ask Uncle Joe if he won't change his +mind," said Mr. Bingle. "I--I don't believe he has ever read the +Christmas Carol. And he is so lonely, so--er--so at odds with the +world that--" + +"Don't bother him, Tom," said his wife. "Get on with the reading. The +children are impatient." She completed the sentence in a yawn. + +Mr. Bingle began. He read very slowly and very impressively at first, +but gradually warmed up to the two-hour task. In a very few minutes he +was going along rapidly, almost monotonously, with scant regard for +effect save at the end of sentences, the ultimate word being +pronounced with distinct emphasis. Page after page was turned; the +droning sound of his voice went on and on, with its clock-like +inflections at the end of sentences; the revived crackle of coals lent +spirit to an otherwise dreary solo, and always it was Melissa who +poked the grate and at the same time rubbed her leg to renew the +circulation that had been checked by the limp weight of Katie Sykes; +the deep sighs of Mrs. Bingle and the loud yawns of the older children +relieved the monotony of sound from time to time; and the cold wind +whistled shrilly round the corners of the building, causing the +youngsters to wonder how Santa was enduring the frost during his +tedious wait at the top of the chimney pot. Mrs. Bingle shifted the +occupants of her lap more and more often as the tale ran on, and with +little attempt to do so noiselessly; Mary's feet went to sleep, and +James fidgeted so violently that twice Mr. Bingle had to look at him. +But eventually he came to the acutely tearful place in the story, and +then he was at his best. Indeed, he quite thrilled his hearers, who +became all attention and blissfully lachrymose. Mrs. Bingle sobbed, +Melissa rubbed her eyes violently, Mr. Bingle choked up and could +scarcely read for the tightening in his throat, and the children +watched him through solemn, dripping eyes and hung on every word that +told of the regeneration of Scrooge and the sad happiness of Tiny Tim. +And finally Mr. Bingle, as hoarse as a crow and faint with emotion, +closed the book and lowered it gently to his knee. + +"There!" he said. "There's a lesson for you. Don't you feel better for +it, young ladies and gentlemen?" + +"I always cry," said Mary Sykes, with a glance of defiance at her +eldest brother, who made a fine show of glowering. + +"Everybody cries over Tiny Tim," said Melissa. "As frequent as I've +heard Mr. Bingle read that story I can't help crying, knowing all the +time it's only a novel. It seems to me I cry a little worse every time +it's read. Don't you think I do, ma'am? Didn't you notice that I cried +a little more this time than I did last year?" + +"It touches the heart-strings," said Mr. Bingle, blowing his nose so +fiercely that Georgie whimpered again, coming out of a doze. "I'll bet +my head, dear, that Uncle Joe would sniffle as much as any of us. I +wish--er--I do wish we'd asked him to come in. It would do him a world +of good to shed a few tears." + +"He hasn't a tear in the whole hulk of him," said Mrs. Bingle, +sorrowfully. + +"Poor old man," said Melissa, relenting a bit. + +"I bet I know what he's doing," said James brightly. + +"Doing? What is he doing, James?" demanded Mr. Bingle, surprised by +the youngster's declaration. + +"You can't fool me. I bet he's out there dressing up to play Santa +Claus." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, blinking. The thought of crabbed +Uncle Joe taking on the habiliments of the genial saint was too much +for his imagination. It left him without the power to set James +straight in the matter, and Uncle Joe was immediately accepted as +Santy by the expectant Sykeses, all of whom revealed a tremendous +interest in the avuncular absentee. They even appeared to be properly +apprehensive, and crowded a little closer to the knees of the grown- +ups, all the while eyeing the door at the upper end of the room. + +Melissa's involuntary snort was not enlightening to the children, but +it served as a spur to Mr. Bingle, who abruptly gave over being +sentimental and set about the pleasant task of distributing the +packages on the table. Hilarity took the place of a necessary reserve, +and before one could say Jack Robinson the little sitting-room was as +boisterous a place as you'd find in a month's journey and no one would +have suspected that Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were eating their hearts out +because the noisy crew belonged to the heaven-blest Mrs. Sykes and not +to them. + +Ten o'clock came. Mr. and Mrs. Bingle sat side by side in front of the +fireplace, her hand in his. The floor was littered with white tissue +paper, red ribbons, peanut hulls and other by-products of festivity; +the rugs were scuffled up and hopelessly awry; chairs were out of +their accustomed places--two or three of them no longer stood upon +their legs as upright chairs should do--and the hearth was strewn with +coals from an overturned scuttle. Candle grease solidified on the +mantelpiece and dripped unseen upon the mahogany bookcase--all +unnoticed by the dreamy, desolate Bingles. They were alone with the +annual wreck. Melissa and the five Sykeses were out in the bitter +night, on their frolicksome way to the distant home of the woman who +had so many children she didn't know what to do for them, not with +them. They had gone away with their hands and pockets full, and their +stomachs, too, and they had all been kissed and hugged and invited to +come again without fail a year from that very night. + +Mr. Bingle sighed. Neither had spoken for many minutes after the +elevator door slammed behind the excited, shrill-voiced children. Mr. +Bingle always sighed exactly at this moment in his reflections, and +Mrs. Bingle always squeezed his hand fiercely and turned a pair of +darkly regretful eyes upon him. + +"I am sorry, dear heart," she murmured, and then he kissed her hand +and said that it was God's will. + +"It doesn't seem right, when we want them, need them so much," she +said, huskily. + +And then he repeated the thing he always said on Christmas Eve: "One +of these days I am going to adopt a--er--a couple, Mary, sure as I'm +sitting here. We just can't grow old without having some of them about +us. Some day we'll find the right sort of--" + +The bedroom door opened with a squeak, slowly and with considerable +caution. The gaunt, bearded face of a tall, stooping old man appeared +in the aperture; sharp, piercing eyes under thick grey eyebrows +searched the room in a swift, almost unfriendly glance. + +"The infernal brats gone, Tom?" demanded Uncle Joe harshly. + +Mr. and Mrs. Bingle stiffened in their chairs. The tall old man came +down to the fireplace, disgustedly kicking a stray, crumpled sheet of +tissue paper out of his path. + +"Oh, they are perfect dears, Uncle Joe," protested Mrs. Bingle, trying +her best not to bristle. + +"I wish you had come in for a look at 'em--" began Mr. Bingle, but the +old man cut him off with a snort of anger. + +"Cussed little nuisances," he said, holding his thin hands to the +blaze. + +"I don't see how you can say such things about children you don't know +and can't--" began Mrs. Bingle. + +He glared at her. "You can't tell me anything about children, Mary. +I'm the father of three and I know what I'm talking about. Children +are the damnedest curse on earth. You ought to thank God you haven't +got any." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION + + +Now, Mr. Joseph Hooper had excellent cause for being a sour old man, +and in a measure was to be pitied because of his attitude toward the +young of his species. He had not been well-used by his own children, +although it is no more than right to explain that they were hardly +what any one save a parent would call children when they turned +against him. At that particular period in the history of the Hooper +family, the youngest of Joseph's three children was seventeen, the +oldest twenty-two--and it so happens that the crisis came just fifteen +years prior to the opening scene in this tale. It did not actually +come on Christmas Eve, but, as a matter of record, on the 2lst of +December at about half-past three in the afternoon. At that precise +instant a judge sitting on the bench in one of the courtrooms in New +York City signed the decree divorcing Mrs. Joseph Hooper from her +husband, and four minutes later the lady walked out of the building +with her son and two daughters, all of them having deliberately turned +their backs upon the miserable defendant in the case. As all of the +children were of an age to legally choose the parent with whom they +preferred to live, and as they elected to cast off the paternal for +the maternal, it readily may be seen that Mr. Hooper was not entirely +without proof that this is a cruel, heartless, ungrateful world and +filled with gall. + +As a matter of fact, he had not been wholly to blame for the family +crash, notwithstanding a rather loose respect on his part for the +sanctity of the home. (It was not to be denied that he had strayed +into crooked paths and devious ways--and, to do him justice, he did +not attempt to deny it: he ventured only to EXPLAIN it.) According to +his version of the affair, the trouble began long before he took to +wine and women. It began with his wife's propensity for nagging. Being +a high-spirited, intelligent person with a mind of his own, Mr. Hooper +didn't like being nagged, and as he rather harshly attempted to put a +stop to it just as soon as it dawned upon him that he was being hen- +pecked, his wife, not to be outdone, went at it harder than ever. And +that is how it all began, and that is why I say that he was not wholly +to blame. She was very pretty and very peevish, and they lived a cat +and dog life for ten years after the birth of the last child. + +Mr. Hooper took to drink and then took to staying away from home for +days at a time. It was at this stage of the affair that the children +began to see him through their mother's eyes. Certain disclosures were +inevitable. In a word, Mrs. Hooper hired detectives, and finding +herself in a splendid position to secure all she wanted in the way of +alimony, heralded Mr. Hooper's shortcomings to the world. The only +good that ever came out of the unfortunate transaction, so far as Mr. +Hooper was concerned, was to be found in the blessed realisation that +she had actually deprived herself of the right to nag him, and that +was something he knew would prove to be a constant source of +irritation to her. + +But when his children turned against him, he faltered. He had not +counted on that. They not only went off to live with their mother, but +they virtually wiped him out of their lives, quite as if he had passed +away and no longer existed in the flesh. The three of them stood by +the mother--as they should have done, we submit, considering Mr. +Hooper's habits--and shuddered quite as profoundly as she when the +name of the erring parent was mentioned in their presence. Mr. Hooper +couldn't for the life of him understand this treachery on the part of +his pampered offspring, on whom he had lavished everything and to whom +he had denied nothing in the way of luxury. It was hard for him to +realise that he was as much of a scamp and scapegrace in their young +eyes as he was in the eyes of his wife--and the whole of his wife's +family, even to the remotest of cousins. + +In the bright days of their early married life, before he knew the +difference between what he looked upon as affectionate teasing and +what he afterwards came to know as persistent nagging, he deeded over +to her the house and lot in Madison Avenue. He did that willingly, +cheerfully. Two days after the divorce was granted, he paid over to +her one hundred thousand dollars alimony. He did that unwillingly, +gloomily. And the very next week the stock market went the wrong way +for him, and he was cleaned out. He hadn't a dollar left of the +comfortable little fortune that had been his. He remained drunk for +nearly two months, and when he sobered up in a sanitarium--and took +the pledge for the first and last time--he came out of the haze and +found that he hadn't a friend left in New York. Every man's head was +turned away from him, every man's hand was against him. + +He sent for his son to come to the cheap hotel in which he was living. +The son sent back word that he never wanted to see his face again. +Whereupon Joseph Hooper for the first time declared that the sons and +daughters of men are curses, and slunk out of New York to say it aloud +in the broad, free stretches of the world across which he drifted +without aim or purpose for years and years and always farther away +from the home he had lost. + +He always said to himself--but never so much as a word of it to any +one else--that if his wife hadn't driven him to distraction with her +nagging he would have avoided the happy though disastrous pitfalls +into which he stumbled in his desperate efforts to find appreciation. +He would have remained an honourable, faithful spouse to her, and an +abstainer--as such things go. He would have shared with her the love +and respect of their three children, and he would have staved off +bankruptcy with the very hundred thousand dollars that she exacted as +spite money. But she was a nagger, and he was no Job. There was a +modicum of joy in the heart of him, however: having been cleaned out +to the last penny, he was in no position to come up monthly with the +thousand dollars charged against him by the court for the support and +maintenance of two of his children until they reached their majority. +He took a savage delight in contemplating the rage of his late wife +when she realised that the children would have to be provided for out +of the income from the one hundred thousand she had received in a lump +sum, and he even thanked God that she was without means beyond this +hateful amount. It tickled him to think of her anguish in not being +able to spend the income from her alimony on furs and feathers with +which to bedeck herself. Instead of spending the five thousand on +herself she would be obliged to put it on the backs and into the +stomachs of her three brats! He chuckled vastly over this bit of good +fortune! It was really a splendid joke on her, this smash of his. No +doubt the children also hated him the more because of his failure to +remain on his feet down in Wall Street, but he consoled himself with +the thought that they would sometimes long for the old days when +father did the providing, and wish that things hadn't turned out so +badly. + +In his hour of disgrace--and we may add degeneration--he possessed but +one blood relation who stood by him and pitied him in spite of his +faults. That was his nephew, Tom Bingle, the son of his only sister, +many years dead. But even so, he did not deceive himself in respect to +the young man's attitude toward him. He realised that Tom was kind to +him simply because it was his nature to be kind to every one, no +matter how unworthy. It wasn't in Tom Bingle to be mean, not even to +his worst enemy. Notwithstanding the fact that the young man had just +taken unto himself a wife, and was as poor as a church-mouse, the door +and the cupboard in his modest little flat were opened cheerfully to +the delinquent Uncle Joe, and be it said to the latter's discredit and +shame--he proceeded to impose upon the generosity of his nephew in a +manner that should have earned him a booting into the street. But +young Tom was patient, he was mild, he even seemed to enjoy being put +upon by the wretched bankrupt. The thing that touched his heart most +of all and caused him to overlook a great many shortcomings, was the +cruel, unfilial slap in the face that had been administered by the +three children of the man, and the crushing, bewildering effect it had +upon him. + +It was Tom who virtually picked the once fastidious Joseph Hooper out +of the gutter, weeks after the smash, and took him under his puny +wing, so to speak, during a somewhat protracted period of +regeneration. The broken, shattered man became, for the time being, +the Bingle burden, and he was not by any means a light or pleasant +one. For months old Joseph ate of his nephew's food, drained his +purse, abused his generosity, ignored his comforts and almost +succeeded in driving the young but devoted wife back to the home from +which Tom had married her. + +It was at this juncture that the mild-mannered bookkeeper arose to the +dignity of a fine rage, and co-incidentally Joseph Hooper for the +first time realised what an overbearing, disagreeable visitor he had +been and departed, but without the slightest ill-feeling toward his +benefactors. Indeed, he was deeply repentant, deeply apologetic. He +ruefully announced that it would never be in his power to repay them +for all they had done for him, but, resorting to a sudden whim, +declared that he would make them his heirs if they didn't mind being +used as a means to convey his final word of defiance to the children +who had cast him off. Not that he would ever have a dollar to leave to +them, but for the satisfaction it would give him to cut the traitors +off with the proverbial shilling. Beset with the notion that this was +an ideal way to show his contempt for his offspring, he went to the +safety deposit vault and took there from the worthless document known +as his last will and testament and in the presence of witnesses +destroyed the thing, thereby disinheriting the erstwhile wife and her +children as effectually as if he had really possessed the estate set +forth in the instrument. + +"I'll make a will in your favour, Tom," he said at the time, with a +mocking grin, "and in it I will include this miserable carcass of +mine, so that you may at least have something to sell to the doctors. +And who knows? I may scrape together a few hundred dollars before I +die, provided I don't die too soon." + +"We will give you a decent burial, Uncle Joe," said Thomas Bingle, +revolting against the specific. "Do you suppose I would sell my uncle +to a--" + +"Haven't you a ray of humour in that head of yours?" demanded his +uncle. "Can't you SEE a joke?" + +"Well, if you were joking," said Bingle, relieved, "all well and good, +but it didn't sound that way." + +"You are a simple soul," was all that Joseph said, and then borrowed +fifty dollars from his nephew for a fresh start in the world, as he +expressed it. With this slender fortune in his purse he set out into a +world that knew him not, nor was it known to him. + +He came back fifteen years afterward, poorer than when he went away, +broken in health, old to the point of decrepitude, bedraggled, unkempt +and prideless. And once more Thomas Bingle took him in and provided +the prospective death-bed for him. They made the old derelict as +comfortable as it was in their power to do, and sacrificed not a +little in order that he might have some of the comforts of life. + +He was a very humble, meek old man, and they pitied him. Screwing up +his courage, Mr. Bingle went one day to the home of the son of Joseph +Hooper and boldly suggested that, inasmuch as the mother was no longer +living, it would not be amiss for him and his sisters to take the +father who created them back into the family circle once more, and to +ease his declining years. Mr. Bingle was ordered out of the rich man's +office. Then he approached the two daughters, both of whom had married +well, and met with an even more painful reception. They not only +refused to recognise their father but declined to recognise their +father's nephew. + +A few days afterward, a lawyer came to the bank to see Mr. Bingle. He +informed the bookkeeper that the Hooper family had been thinking +matters over and were prepared to pay him the sum of seventy-five +dollars a month for the care of Joseph Hooper, or, in other words, +they would contribute twenty-five dollars apiece toward sustaining the +life of one who was already dead to them. Moreover, they stood ready +to pay the expenses of his funeral when actual dissolution occurred, +but farther than that they could not be expected to go. + +Mr. Bingle flared up--a most unusual thing for him to do. "You tell +them that I will take care of Uncle Joe as long as he lives without a +nickel from them and that I'll bury him when he dies." + +"Out of your own pocket?" exclaimed the lawyer, who knew something of +bookkeepers' salaries. + +"Most certainly not out of anybody else's," said Mr. Bingle, with +dignity. "And you can also tell them that they are a pack of blamed +good-for-nothings," he added, with absolutely no dignity. + +"My dear sir." + +"Be sure to tell 'em, will you? If I was a swearing man I'd do better +than that but I guess it will do for a starter." + +"My clients will insist upon re-imbursing you for--" began the lawyer +stiffly, but Mr. Bingle snapped his fingers disdainfully, much nearer +the gentleman's nose than he intended, no doubt, and with a perfectly +astonishing result. The legal representative's hat fell off backwards +and he actually trod upon it in his haste to give way before the irate +little bookkeeper. + +"You tell 'em just what I said, that's all you've got to do," said Mr. +Bingle, and then picked up his visitor's hat and pushed the crown into +shape with a vicious dig. "Here's your hat. Good day." + +He was so boiling mad all the rest of the afternoon that he could not +see the figures clearly, and made countless mistakes, necessitating an +extra two hours' work on the books before he could even think of going +home. + +Arriving at the apartment, he found his wife in a state of +perturbation, not over his tardiness, but over the extraordinary +behaviour of Uncle Joe. The old man had been out most of the day and +had come in at five, growling and cursing with more than ordinary +vehemence. + +"He is in his bedroom, Tom, and I don't know what to make of him. He +has had bad news, I think." + +"Bad news?" cried Mr. Single. "The very worst news on earth wouldn't +seem bad to Uncle Joe after all he has gone through. I'll go in and +see him." + +"Be careful, dear! I--I--he may be insane. You never can tell what--" + +It turned out that the old man had visited his three children during +the day, going to each of them as a suppliant and in deep humility. +After fifteen years, he broke his resolve and went to them with his +only appeal. He wanted to die with his children about him. That was +all. He did not ask them to love him, or forgive him. He only asked +them to call him father and to let him spend the last weeks of his +life within the sound of their voices. + +Sitting at the supper table, he grimly related his experiences to the +distressed Bingles. + +"I went first to Angela's, Tom," he said, scowling at the centre- +piece. "Angela married that Mortimer fellow in Sixty-first Street, you +know--Clarence Mortimer's son. Ever seen their home? Well, the butler +told me to go around to the rear entrance. I gave him my card and told +him to take it up to MY DAUGHTER. I had a fellow in a drug-store write +my name neatly on some blank cards, Mary. The butler threatened to +call the police. He thought I was crazy. But just then old Clarence +Mortimer came up the steps. It seems that he is living with his son, +having lost all of his money a few years ago. He recognised me at +once, and I knew by the way he shook hands with me that he has been +leading a dog's life ever since he went broke. He said he'd speak to +Angela--and he did. I waited in the hall downstairs. Old Clarence +didn't have the courage to come back himself. A footman brought down +word that Mrs. Mortimer could not see Mr. Hooper. She was not at home +to Mr. Hooper, and--never would be. That was what her servant was +obliged to tell me. So I went away. Then I tried Elizabeth. She lives +in one of those fifteen thousand dollar a year apartments on Park +Avenue. She has three lovely children. They are my grand-children, you +know, Tom. I saw them in the automobile as I came out of the building +and went my way after Elizabeth Bransone had told me to my face--I +managed to get in to see her--had told me that I was a sight, a +disgrace, that she couldn't bear to look at me, and that I had better +clear out before her husband came in. My own daughter, Tom, my own +flesh and blood. She informed me that provision would be made for me, +but she made it very plain--damnably plain--that I was never to bother +her again. So I went away from Elizabeth's. There was only one of 'em +left, and I hated to tackle him worse than either of the girls. But I +did. I went down to his office. He refused to see me at first, but +evidently thought it best to get the thing out of his system forever, +so he changed his mind and told the office boy to let me in. Well, my +son Geoffrey is a very important person now. He married a Maybrick, +you know, and he is a partner in old Maybrick's firm--steamship +agents. Geoffrey looked me over. He did it very thoroughly. I told him +I'd come to see if he couldn't do something toward helping me to die a +respectable, you might say comfortable death. He cut me off short. +Said he would give me a thousand dollars to leave New York and stay +away forever. I---" + +"I trust you did not accept the money," cried Mr. Bingle in a shocked +voice. + +"I'm pretty well down and out, Tom, but I'd sooner starve than to take +money from him in that way. So I told my son to go to the devil." + +"Good for you!" cried Mr. Bingle. "And then what?" + +"He is a humorous individual, that pompous son of mine," said old +Joseph, with a chuckle. "He said I ought to be ashamed of myself for +advising my own son to go to the devil in view of what a similar +excursion had done for me. I managed to subdue my temper--it's a bad +one, as you know--and put the matter up to him in plain terms. 'I am +your father, Geoffrey, when all is said and done. Are you going to +kick me out into the world when I've got no more than a month or two +to live? Are you going to allow my body to lie in the Potter's field? +Are you willing to allow this poor nephew of mine to take care of me, +to assume the responsibility of seeing that I get a decent burial in a +decent---'" + +"Oh, Uncle Joe, you oughtn't even to think of such things," broke in +his niece by marriage. "You MUST think of cheerful---" + +"You are good for years and years---" began Mr. Bingle. + +"Don't interrupt me," said Uncle Joe irascibly. "I guess I know what +I'm talking about. I'm good for a couple of months at the outside. I'm +seventy years old and I feel two hundred. Why, dammit, old Clarence +Mortimer said I LOOK a hundred. To make the story short, Geoffrey said +he had arranged to pay you for my keep, no matter how long I lasted, +but he thought I was foolish not to take the thousand and go to some +quiet little place in the country--and wait. If--if it should happen +that I lived longer than the thousand would carry me, he'd see to it +that I had more. Only he didn't want me hanging around New York. That +was the point, d'you see? He very frankly said that he had always +sided with his mother against me, and that was all there was to it, so +far as he was concerned. And, see here, Tom, he said you had been down +to see him about me. Is that true?" + +"Well, I--I thought perhaps--er--I might be able to bring about a +reconciliation," floundered Mr. Bingle. + +"And you found that in the upper circles it is not considered good +form to be reconciled unless it pays, eh? What would be the sense in +becoming reconciled to a wreck of a father, who hasn't a dollar in the +world, after getting along so nicely for fifteen years without him? +No, it isn't done, Tom--it's not the thing. Geoffrey made no bones +about admitting that as far as he is concerned, I have been dead for +fifteen years. He---" + +"Well then," said Mr. Bingle, slamming his fist upon the dining-table +so violently that the cutlery bounced, "why the dickens does he object +to burying you? If I discovered a relative that had been dead for +fifteen years, I'd see to it that he was buried, if only for the good +of the community." + +"He doesn't object to burying me," explained Uncle Joe. "He implies +that he'll do that much for me with pleasure. As a matter of fact, he +said that if I'd arrange to have some one notify him when I was +literally dead, he would see to it that I was buried. But I told him +he needn't bother his head about it, because I was quite sure you +would do it even more cheerfully than he and undoubtedly with less +secrecy." + +"Cheerfully?" gasped the Bingles. + +"Cheerfully," repeated Uncle Joe firmly. "And now, can't we talk about +something else? I've done my best to make peace with my son and +daughters, and now I wash my hands of 'em. I never intended to weaken +in my resolve, but I--I just couldn't help it, Tom. I swore I'd never +look into their faces again, but, after all, I AM their father, you +see, and I suppose I'm getting weak and childish in my old age. I gave +in, that's all. I thought they might have some little feeling for me, +and--" He did not finish the sentence, and as the Bingles took that +instant to blow their noses and to look so intently at the electric +chandelier that their eyes smarted, it was perhaps just as well that +he ended his ruminations when he did. + +All this happened six weeks prior to Christmas Eve, and they were six +long, trying weeks for the two Bingles. The old man was sick two- +thirds of the time and had to have a physician. He insisted on having +the now famous Dr. Fiddler, one of the most expensive practitioners in +New York, obstinately refusing to listen to reason. Fiddler had been +the Hooper family physician years ago and that was all there was to be +said. He WOULD have him. So poor Tom Bingle sent for the great man, +who came and prescribed for his old friend and client. After a week +the Bingles began to count the number of visits, and grew lean and +gaunt-faced over the prospect ahead of them. Fiddler's fee was ten +dollars a visit--to a friend, he explained, in accounting for the +ridiculously low figure--and he came twice a day for nearly two weeks. +The Bingles did not complain. As Mr. Bingle said, they took their +medicine, even as Uncle Joe took his--only he thrived on it and they +withered. Dr. Fiddler was very nice about it, however. He assured Mr. +Bingle that he was in no hurry for his money. Any time before the +first of February would be perfectly satisfactory. He was only too +glad to have been instrumental in dragging his old friend, Joseph +Hooper from the very edge of the grave. + +"And if he has a recurrence of the--" he began suavely. + +"There's no danger of THAT, is there, Doctor? cried Mr. Bingle, +gripping his fingers tightly in his coat pockets. + +"Don't hesitate a moment, Mr. Bingle. Send for me. You may depend upon +it, I will come on the instant. I think your poor uncle has been very +badly--er--treated, Mr. Bingle." + +"Do you attend the families of his son and daughters--I mean to say, +as their regular--" + +"No," said Dr. Fiddler shortly, "I have not that felicity, Mr. +Bingle." And Mr. Bingle thought he understood why Dr. Fiddler felt +that Uncle Joe had been badly treated. + +Later on, Uncle Joe blandly asseverated that it pays to have the best, +no matter what it costs. "Why, one of these cheap, rattle-brained +doctors would have let me die, sure as fate. Old Fiddler comes high, +but he cures. If I should happen to get sick again, Tom, send for him +without delay, will you?" + +Mr. Bingle said he would, and he meant it. He had jotted down in the +back of a little notebook each successive visit of Dr. Fiddler, and, +consulting it from time to time, had no difficulty in realising that +he came high. Twenty-one visits, at ten dollars a visit, that's what +it amounted to, say nothing of the drug bill, the extra-food bill, the +night-nurse's wages, and the wear and tear on the nerves of his wife, +himself--and Melissa. For, it would appear, Melissa had nerves as well +as the rest of them, and Uncle Joe was the very worst thing in the +world for Melissa's nerves. She very frequently said so, and sometimes +to his face, although she never neglected him for an instant. In +truth, she shared with Mrs. Bingle the day nursing, and seldom slept +well of nights, knowing that the night-nurse was upsetting everything +in the kitchen and pantry in her most professional way. + +Of course Uncle Joe did not actually get well. He merely recovered. In +other words, he survived the attack of influenza and heart trouble, +only to go on ailing as he had ailed before. He was quite cheerful +about it, too. They used to catch him chuckling to himself as he sat +shivering over the fireplace, and he seemed to take especial delight +in demanding three eggs for breakfast when every one knew that eggs +were seventy-two cents a dozen. The only compensation they had out of +the experience--aside from the realisation that they were living up to +a principle--was the untiring effort he made to entertain them with +stories of his adventures as a tramp! He gracelessly confessed that he +had travelled under many names, and that he was known by various +soubriquets that would not sound well on Fifth Avenue but still +possessed the splendid virtue of being decorative. There was not the +slightest doubt that he had roamed the land over, and there was not +even the faintest suspicion that he had profited by travel. + +And this brings us up to Christmas Eve. With February not far away, +and Uncle Joe lamentably liable to have another attack, the Bingles +curtailed quite considerably in their preparations for the festivities +in honour of the five little Sykeses. They spent but a third of the +customary amount in providing presents, and they were not quite sure +that they were wise in spending as much as that. Uncle Joe went to +considerable pains to convince them that they were making fools of +themselves in throwing away money that might be needed for his +funeral, and absolutely refused to become a party to the affair. He +moped in his bedroom, over an oil-stove, and made himself generally +unpleasant. As for "The Christmas Carol," he had but one opinion about +it, and this is no place to express it. + +When he came into the sitting-room after the departure of the Sykeses, +breaking in upon the tender reflections of Mr. and Mrs. Single, he +represented the ghost who might have been at the feast but was, for +some reason, obligingly late. + +As he stood over the blaze, rubbing his bony old knuckles, he was a +depressing figure indeed. His gloomy eyes had no reflected glow in +them; his long, stooped frame suggested nothing so much as a weather- +worn scare-crow about which a thousand storms had thrashed. There was +no joy in his soul. + +"Yes," he said, as if they had disputed him without reason, "you ought +to be thankful you have no children. What you can see in this +tomfoolery about Christmas Eve is beyond me. Better save your money +for something worth while, that's what I say. Something worth while." + +"Well, WHAT, for instance?" demanded Mr. Bingle, suddenly irritated +beyond control. + +"Confound you, Tom, do you forget that you owe Dr. Fiddler more than +two hundred dollars?" snapped Uncle Joe, turning on him. + +"Oh, I will pay him--I will pay him all right, never fear," replied +Mr. Bingle, shrinking. + +Old Joseph Hooper regarded him keenly for a long time before speaking +again. His voice softened and his manner underwent a swift change. + +"Tom Bingle, you are the best man living to-day," he said, a strange +huskiness in his voice. "If you were not as good as gold you would +kick me out and--and--" + +"Kick you out, Uncle Joe!" cried Mr. Bingle, coming to his feet and +laying his hand on the bent shoulder. "God bless you, sir, I--I--I +ought to kick you out for SAYING such a thing!" + +And old Joseph suddenly laid his arm on the mantelpiece and buried his +face upon it, his gaunt figure shaking with sobs. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE + + +When Thomas Bingle made his inspired visit to Geoffrey Hooper in the +interest of peace, he took it upon himself to advise his wealthy +cousin to read "The Christmas Carol" before it was too late, and +formed a permanent and irradicable opinion of the pauper's son when +that individual curtly informed him that he was not in the habit of +reading "trash." Mr. Bingle was patient enough to inquire if he knew +anything about "The Christmas Carol" and Geoffrey in turn asked "who +wrote the words for it," although it really didn't matter, he added by +way of cutting off the reply of his astonished visitor, who naturally +could not have expected to know that his cousin was a consistent +church-goer and knew a great deal about Christmas carols. If it had +been in his power to hate any one, Mr. Bingle would have hated his +solitary male cousin for that stupendous insult to literature. As it +was, he could only pity him for his ignorance, and at the same time +blame Uncle Joseph for bringing up his son in such a slip-shod manner. + +It all went to show the trend of the world, however, in this callous +age of ours; it went to show that the right sort of missionary work +was not being performed. Mr. Bingle never forgave Geoffrey for calling +"The Christmas Carol" trash. In the light of what took place +afterwards, he felt that he was completely justified in an opinion +formed almost on the instant the abominable word was uttered. + +Christmas fell on a Wednesday. Three days out of each year Mr. Bingle +slept late of a morning: Christmas, Easter Sunday and Labour Day. On +this particular Christmas morning he slept much later than usual; the +little clock in the parlour was striking eight when he awoke and +scrambled out of bed. + +Mrs. Bingle always had her coffee in bed. She adhered strictly to that +pleasant custom for the somewhat pathetic reason that it afforded a +distinct exemplification of the superiority of mistress over maid. By +no manner of means could Melissa have arrived at this expression of +luxury. + +"Merry Christmas," said Mr. Bingle, crimping his toes on the cold +carpet and bending over to kiss his companion's cheek. She responded +with unwonted vigour, proving that she had been wide awake for some +time. + +"I shall get up, Thomas," she declared, much to his surprise. + +"It's pretty cold," said he. "Better stay where you are." + +"I thought I heard Uncle Joe moving about in the sitting-room quite a +while ago," she said. "Do you suppose he needed a hot-water bottle?" + +Mr. Bingle sighed. "If he did, you may be quite sure he would have got +the whole house up with his roars, Mary." + +"You will take cold, Thomas, standing around without your--" + +"I'll just run in and see if Uncle Joe needs anything," he +interrupted, a note of anxiety in his voice. Pausing at the bedroom +door, with his hand on the knob, he turned toward her with a merry +grin on his deeply-seamed face. His sparse hair was as tousled and his +eyes as full of mischief as any child's. "Maybe it was old Santa you +heard out there, Mary--filling the stockings." + +She was too matter-of-fact for anything like that. "If you knew what +was good for you, Tom Bingle, you'd fill that pair of stockings lying +at the foot of the bed instead of running around in your bare feet," +she said, pulling the covers up about her chin. "I think I'll have my +breakfast in bed, after all." + +"That's right," said he, and hurried nimbly out of the room so that +she would not hear the chattering of his teeth. Mrs. Single was +enjoying the paroxysm of a luxurious, comfortable yawn when she heard +a shout of alarm from the sitting-room. She sat straight up in bed. + +"Mary! Oh, my goodness! I say, Melissa!" + +Then came the pattering of Mr. Bingle's feet across the floor, +followed by the intrusion of an excited face through the half-open +door. + +"Wha--what IS the matter?" she quavered. + +"He--he's gone!" + +"Dead?" she shrieked. + +"No! Gone, I said--left the house. Out in the cold. Freezing. +Wandering about in the streets--" + +"In--in his night clothes?" gasped his wife. "Don't tell me he has +gone into the street without--" + +"Get up!" cried Mr. Bingle, making a dash for his own garments. "We +must do something. Let me think--give me time. Now what is the first +thing to do? Notify the police or--" + +"IS HE DRESSED?" she demanded. + +"Of course," he replied. "At least he took his clothes with him. +They're not in his bedroom." + +"Well, ask the elevator boy. He'll know when he went out. Hurry up, +Thomas. Don't stop to put on a collar. Do hurry--" + +"I'm not putting on a collar," came in smothered tones. "I'm putting +on a shirt." + +He didn't quite have it on when Melissa appeared in the doorway, wide- +eyed and excited. + +"Uncle Joe has disappeared, ma'am," she chattered. "I can't find hide +or hair of him. Did you call, Mr. Bingle, or was it--" + +"I called," said Mr. Bingle, getting behind the foot-board of the bed. +"Where is he? Did you--" + +"I heard him moving about the kitchen about six or half-past. I peeked +out of my door, and there he was, all dressed, putting the coffee pot +on the stove. I says to him: 'What are you doing there?' and he says: +'I'm getting breakfast, you lazy lummix,' and I says: 'Well, get it, +you old bear, 'cause I won't, you can bet on that,'--and went back to +bed. Oh, goodness--goodness! I wouldn't ha' said that to him if I'd +knowed he--" + +"Don't blubber, Melissa," cried Mrs. Bingle. "Ask the elevator boy +what time it was when--" + +"Hand me my trousers, Mary," shivered Mr. Bingle, "or send Melissa out +of the room. I can't--" + +"He made himself some coffee and--" + +"Call the elevator boy, as I tell you--No, wait! Dress yourself first, +you silly thing," commanded Mrs. Bingle, and Melissa fled. + +The old man was gone, there could be no doubt about that. +Investigations proved that he had left the building at precisely +sixteen minutes of seven, the janitor declaring that he had looked at +his watch the instant the old man appeared on the sidewalk where he +was shovelling away the snow. He admitted that nothing short of a +miracle could have caused him to go to the trouble of getting out his +watch on a morning as cold as this one happened to be, and so he +regarded old Mr. Hooper's exit as a most astonishing occurrence. +Further investigation showed that he had walked down the six tortuous +flights of stairs instead of ringing for the elevator, and that he was +clad in Mr. Bingle's best overcoat, an ulster of five winters, to say +nothing of his arctics, gloves and muffler. + +No one, not even Mr. Bingle, could deny that it was a very shabby +thing to do on a Christmas morning, and for once the gentle bookkeeper +lost faith in his fellow-man. In all probability he would have excused +Uncle Joe's early morning stroll in garments that did not belong to +him had it not been for the fact that the old gentleman also took away +with him all of his own scanty belongings neatly wrapped in the +morning newspaper, an almost priceless breakfast possession from Mr. +Bingle's way of looking at it. + +At first Mrs. Bingle insisted on having the police notified. It was so +evident that Uncle Joe had departed without even contemplating an +early return that she couldn't see why her husband shouldn't at least +recover what belonged to him before the old ingrate could get to a +pawn-shop, notwithstanding the family shame that would attend an +actual arrest. + +"He is an old scamp, Tom, and I don't see why you should put up with +the scurvy trick he has played on you," she protested, almost in +tears. "After all we've done for him, it really seems--" + +"I swear to goodness, Mary, I believe I'd do it if--if it wasn't +Christmas," groaned Mr. Bingle, who sat dejectedly over the fire, his +hands jammed deep into his pockets, his chin on his breast. "But +really, my dear, I--I can't--I just can't set the police after him on +Christmas Day. Besides, he may come back of his own accord." + +"He can't go very far on what he will get for your overcoat," she said +ironically. "He'll be back, never fear, when he gets good and hungry, +and he'll not bring your overcoat with him, either." + +"My dear, whatever else Uncle Joe may have been, he is not a thief," +said Mr. Bingle stiffly. + +"How do you know?" she demanded. "He may have been in the +penitentiary, for all we know about him. At any rate, he HAS stolen +your overcoat, and your rubbers, and--and--" + +"My ear-muffs," supplied Mr. Bingle, seeing that she was taxing her +memory. + +"I suppose you regard all that as the act of an honest man," she said +irritably. "I DO wish, Tom Bingle, that you had a little more backbone +when it comes to--" + +"Tut, tut!" interposed Mr. Bingle, uncomfortably. He resented her +occasional references to his backbone, or rather to the lack of it. + +"--being put upon," she concluded. "Oh, just to think of the old scamp +doing this to you on Christmas Day!" she wailed. "No wonder his +children despise him." + +"Well, we'll see what--" he began and then cleared his throat in some +confusion. His wife's appraising eye was upon him. + +"What are we going to see?" she inquired, after a moment. + +"We'll see what turns up," said he, somewhat defiantly, "I don't +believe in condemning a man unheard. I have a feeling that he--" + +"What do you expect to wear when you go down to the bank in the +morning?" she demanded, still eyeing him severely. "Your spring +overcoat? People will think you're crazy. It's below zero." + +"Oh, I'll get along all right," said he stoutly. "Don't you worry +about me, Mary. By hokey, I wish he'd come back this afternoon, just +to prove to you that it isn't safe to form an opinion without--" + +"There you go, Tom Bingle, wishing as you always do that somebody +would do something good just to show me that no one ever does anything +bad. You dear old goose! Only the meanest man in the world could have +the heart to rob you. That's what Uncle Joe is, my dear--the meanest +man in the world." + +Mr. Bingle sighed. He was in no position to argue the point. Uncle Joe +had not left him very much to stand upon in the shape of a theory. +There was nothing to do but to concede her the sigh of admission. + +"It's possible," he said hopefully, "that the poor old man is--is out +of his head. Let us hope so, at any rate." And with this somewhat +doubtful sop to the family honour, he lapsed into the silence of one +who realizes that he has uttered a foolish remark and shrinks from the +consequences. + +Mrs. Bingle said "Humph," and no more, but there is no word in any +vocabulary that represents as much in the way of sustained argument as +that homely, unspellable ejaculation. + +Mr. Hooper DID return, but not until the Saturday following Christmas +Day. He justified Mr. Bingle's faith in mankind to some extent by +restoring the overcoat and the arctics, but failed to bring back the +ear-muffs and the newspaper. He also failed to account for his own +scanty belongings which he had taken away from the flat wrapped up in +the newspaper. As a matter of fact, he did not feel called upon to +account for anything that had transpired since a quarter before seven +on Christmas morning. He merely walked in upon Mrs. Bingle at noon and +told her to send for Dr. Fiddler at once. Then he got into bed and +shivered so violently that the poor lady quite forgot her intention to +berate him for all the worry and trouble he had caused. She proceeded +at once to dose him with quinine, hot whisky and other notable +remedies while Melissa telephoned for the doctor and Mr. Bingle. + +"Don't you think I'd better send for Dr. Smith, on the first floor, +Uncle Joe?" said Mrs. Bingle nervously. + +"I want Dr. Fiddler," growled the old man. "I won't have anybody else, +Mary. He's the only doctor in New York. Well, why are you standing +there like a fence-post? Can't you see I'm sick? Can't you see I need +a doctor? Can't--" + +"I only thought that perhaps Dr. Smith could do something to relieve +you before Dr. Fiddler arrives. You should not forget that Dr. Fiddler +is a great man and a--a busy one. He may not be able to come at once, +and in that case--" + +"He'll come the minute you send for him," argued the sick man. "Didn't +he say he would? Do you want me to die like a dog? Where's Tom?" + +"He is at the bank, Uncle Joe," said Mrs. Bingle patiently. "Now, try +to be quiet, we'll have the doctor here as quickly as possible." + +"I don't want any of your half-grown doctors, Mary, understand that. I +want a real one. I'm a mighty sick man, and--" + +"You'll be all right in a day or two, Uncle Joe," said she soothingly. +"Don't worry, you poor old dear. Drink this." + +"What is it?" + +"Never mind. It's good for you. Take it right down." + +Uncle Joe surprised himself by swallowing the hot drink without +further remonstrance. His own docility convinced him beyond all doubt +that he was a very sick man. + +"Send for Tom," he sputtered. "Send for him at once. He ought to be +here. I am his uncle--his only uncle, and he--" + +"Now, do be quiet, Uncle Joe. Tom will be here before long. It's +Saturday, you know--a half holiday at the bank." + +She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his hot +forehead. For a short time he growled about the delay in getting the +doctor to the apartment; then he became quietly watchful. His gaze +settled upon the comely, troubled face of Tom Bingle's wife and, as he +looked, his fierce old eyes softened. + +"Mary," he said at last, and his voice was gentle, almost plaintive; +"you are a real angel. I just want you to know that I love you and +Tom, and I want you to tell me now that you forgive me for--for--" + +"Sh! See if you can't go to sleep, Uncle Joe." + +"I'd just like to hear you say that you don't hate me, Mary." + +"Of course, I don't hate you. How can you ask such a question?" + +"I've been a dreadful--" + +"Hush, now. Here's Melissa. Did you get Dr. Fiddler, Melissa?" + +"Yes, ma'am," said the little maid-of-all-work, appearing in the +doorway with a couple of blankets that she had been warming behind the +kitchen range. "He's coming at once, ma'am, and--" her eyes were +expressive of an immense pity for her mistress--"he says he's prepared +to stay all night if necessary, and he's sent for TWO nurses, night +and day. Besides all that, his assistant is coming with him." + +"That's the kind of a doctor to have," said Uncle Joe, with a vast +satisfaction. "None of your cheap, dollar-a-visit incompetents for me, +Mary. If a man's life is worth anything at all, it's worth more than a +couple of one dollar visits from these--What's the matter with you, +Melissa? Don't glare at me like that. Haven't I the right to live? +Can't I ask for a doctor--a mere doctor--without being--" + +"Oh, I ain't begrudgin' you a doctor, Uncle Joe," said Melissa +shortly. "It's none of my business. You can have all the doctors in +New York if you want 'em." + +"I don't want 'em, confound you," exclaimed Uncle Joe. "I only want a +fighting chance, that's all. I--" + +"Nobody's fighting you, is they?" demanded Melissa, whipping a blanket +across the bed with more energy than seemed necessary. She began +tucking in the edges. "I guess we've always been pretty nice to you, +Uncle Joe--every one of us--and I guess we'll keep on being nice to +you, so don't growl." + +"That's right, Melissa," said the sick man humbly. "You've been a +jewel, my girl. I--I shall never forget you." + +"I'm a soft-hearted fool or I'd ha'--" began Melissa, somewhat +ominously, but checked herself after a quick glance at her mistress's +face. "Try to go to sleep, Uncle Joe," she substituted. "I'll have +some toast and tea for you when you wake up. You--you look as if you +hadn't eat anything since you left, you poor old thing." + +"I hope Tom didn't need his overcoat while I was away, Mary," said +Uncle Joe, abruptly changing the topic of conversation. + +[Illustration with caption: That's the kind of a doctor to have," said +Uncle Joe] + +"He has another coat," said Mrs. Bingle, evasively. "When you feel +better you must tell us what you have been doing for the past--" + +"I'm not going to feel any better," said Uncle Joe, quite cheerfully. +"I may hang on for a long time but I'm not going to be any better. +This is the finish for me, Mary. And I'd like you to know that I +didn't come back here to die on your hands without first giving my +children a chance to take me in. I--I tried them once more." + +"You--you went to them again?" she cried. Melissa laid the second +blanket across the bed more gently than the first. + +"Yes," said Mr. Hooper, his thick eyebrows meeting in a scowl of +anger. "Yes, I talked with all three of them this morning before I +came here. I told them that I was sick and--and--" He choked up +suddenly as Mrs. Bingle began to pat his lean old knuckles with her +soft, warm hand. + +"I wouldn't talk about it if I were you, Uncle Joe." + +"But I--I want to talk about it," he said, with an effort. "First I +wrote a nice, kind letter to each one of them. Then I called them up +on the telephone and told them all how sick I was, that I couldn't +last much longer, that I didn't want to die in the street, or a +charity hospital, or--the police station. That confounded Christmas +Carol of yours made me relent. I read the thing the other night after +you went to bed. They all asked me where I was and said they would +send an ambulance to take me to Bellevue, and that was the best they +could do for me. After the holidays, when they had a little more time, +they might possibly send me to a sanitarium if I--if I showed any +signs of improvement. That was all there was to it, Mary. I told them-- +each one of 'em--that I washed my hands of them, and they could all +go to the devil. They won't do it, of course. People like that never +go to the devil for the simple reason that the devil hasn't anything +to offer them that they don't already possess. And so, Mary, I came +back here to see if you'd take me in. You and Tom have been my best, +my only real friends, and I--I thought you'd give me another chance. +If you feel even now that I am going to be too much bother and +expense, I'll get out. I'll go to a hospital and--" + +"Not another word, Uncle Joe," said Mary Bingle, and she kissed his +grim old cheek. "Not another word." + +"Thank you, Mary, thank you for that. I--I was just wondering whether +you could stand all of the expense and--" + +Melissa broke in sharply: "Of course, we can. My wages can go over +till--" + +"And you will not turn me out?" whispered Uncle Joe, his eyes shining. + +"Never!" said Mrs. Bingle. + +"Never!" said the maid-of-all-work. + +Mr. Hooper turned over on his side and was strangely quiet after that. +His nephew came home at three and found himself confronted by two +nurses, two doctors and a cabman who was waiting in the hallway for +his fare. It seemed that Uncle Joe had driven home in a cab, and being +somewhat uncertain as to the duration of his stay in the apartment of +his nephew, instructed the fellow to wait, which the fellow did for a +matter of more than three hours and was prepared to wait a good while +longer unless he got his pay. Uncle Joe's forgetfulness cost Mr. +Bingle six dollars and fifty cents, and he entered the sitting-room +with a heart doubly sore. Of one thing he was uncomfortably certain: +the nurses would cost fifty dollars a week and they would have to be +paid on the dot. They were not like doctors, who could afford to wait. +They were working for a living. + +Mr. Bingle's salary at the bank was one hundred dollars a month. He +was an expert accountant, but it did not require the intelligence of +an expert to do the "sum" that presented itself for his hasty +consideration. His small, jealously guarded account in the savings +bank would be wiped out like a flash. And yet he entered the sick-room +with a cheerful countenance and an unfaltering faith in the fitness of +all things. He greeted his repentant Sindbad with such profound +gladness and relief that one might well have believed him to be happy +in having the burden restored to his frail shoulders. + +"Well, well, here you are!" he cried, rubbing his cold hands +vigorously before offering to grasp the bony old fingers that were +extended to him. "Glad to see you back, Uncle Joe. Comfortable? Well, +well, how are you?" He shook his uncle's hand warmly. "Sorry to see +you laid up again, sir, but we'll have you as good as new in no time. +Eh, doctor? As good as new, eh?" + +Uncle Joe had nothing to say. He clung to his nephew's hand and smiled +faintly. + +Mr. Bingle looked puzzled. This was not like the Uncle Joe he had +known. He sent a questioning glance toward the sober-faced doctor, and +then sat down beside the bed, very much shaken by the news that came +to him in the significant shake of Dr. Fiddler's head. + +After many minutes had passed, Uncle Joe began to speak to his nephew. +His voice was weak and the words came haltingly. + +"Tom, you are a good boy--as good as gold. No, that isn't fair to you. +You're better than gold. I honestly believe you like me, wretched and +troublesome as I am. Your mother loved me, Tom. No one ever had a +sister who loved a brother more than she loved me. Thank God, she died +long before I came to this dreadful pass. She was spared seeing me as +I am now. Well, I want to ask a last favour of you, nephew. I want you +to see that I am buried beside your mother up at Syracuse. Just have a +simple funeral, my boy. No fuss, no flowers, no singing. Then take me +up to the old burying ground and--and I won't bother any one after +that. I suppose it will cost you something to do it, but--but if you +knew how much it will mean to me now if I have your promise to--" + +"Sh!" whispered Mr. Bingle. "Don't talk of dying, Uncle Joe. Don't +speak of graveyards while--" + +"Will you promise? That's the question," said Uncle Joe stubbornly. + +"Yes," said Mr. Bingle painfully; "when the time comes I'll lay you +beside my mother. Don't worry about it, Uncle Joe." + +"I hate to put you to the expense of--" + +"Pooh!" said Mr. Bingle, as if the cost of the thing was the merest +trifle to him. + +"If I were to live for a thousand years, Tom, I could never find the +means to adequately compensate you and Mary for the joy and comfort +you have given me at so great a cost to yourselves. By dying, I may be +able to make your load lighter, so I am going to die as quickly as the +doctor will allow me to do so." + +He died at nine o'clock that night. The next day Mr. Bingle notified +his three children that he was taking their father to Syracuse for +burial, and that if they chose to do so they could come to the +apartment late that afternoon for the brief funeral service. Geoffrey, +speaking for his sisters as well as for himself, expressed regret that +poor Tom had been saddled with certain annoyances and inconvenience in +connection with the late Joseph Hooper, and that they, as a family, +would be pleased to assume the cost of his funeral, provided Tom would +present an itemized statement on his return from Syracuse, covering +all legitimate expenses not only in connection with the funeral but +also anything that may have arisen during his most recent illness. + +And Mr. Bingle, without consulting his wife, informed Geoffrey that he +was quite able to meet all of the expenses without aid from "the +family" and that he preferred to have nothing more said about the +matter. Whereupon Geoffrey told him to go ahead and do as he pleased +about it, and hung up the telephone receiver. + +Greatly to the amazement and relief of the Bingles, Dr. Fiddler +insisted on paying all of the funeral expenses, including the railroad +fare of the two mourners to and from Syracuse. Moreover, he calmly +announced that he would not accept a penny from Mr. Bingle for +services rendered the sick man. + +"Mary," said Mr. Bingle, on the way back to New York after the +interment in Syracuse, "if everybody in this world was as good as Dr. +Fiddler, what a happy place it would be. Just think of it! He gave all +of his time, all of his experience--everything--and now refuses to +take a cent from me. It isn't everybody who is as easy on the poor as +that man is, my dear. He is a--a real nobleman." + +Mrs. Bingle had been thinking too. "Well, I dare say he makes up for +it by being a little harder on the rich every time he finds it +necessary to be easy on the poor," she said cryptically. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing," she said, ashamed of her estimate of the good doctor. "I +shouldn't have said that." + +"I insist on an explanation." + +"Well, if you must have it, I'll bet he gets even somehow. I'd hate to +be his next patient if I was rich enough to call him in to attend me." + +"I am surprised at you, Mary," said Mr. Bingle, and his expression +convinced her that he really was. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FORTY MINUTES LATE + + +Mr. Bingle was late at the bank the morning after their return from +the North. Not in all the years of his connection with the institution +had such a thing happened to him--or to the bank, for that matter. He +made it a point to be punctual. In his opinion, a man was taking +something that did not belong to him when he failed his employer in +the matter of promptness. Working AFTER hours to make up the lost time +was, in his estimation, a rather cowardly form of penance; it was +simply a confession that the delinquent had robbed his master of a +certain number of fresh minutes earlier in the day, and was trying to +restore them at the end of the day, when he was in no condition to +give as good as he had taken. + +One could set his watch by Thomas Bingle. All of the clocks, and all +of the watches, and all of the clerks in the bank might be late, but +NEVER Thomas Bingle. He kept absolutely perfect time, year in and year +out. And so, when he came dashing into the bank on this particular +morning nearly forty minutes late, every man in the long counting-room +jerked out his watch and glanced at its face with an expression of +alarm in his eyes, absolutely convinced that he had made the heart- +breaking mistake of getting down to work forty minutes too soon. Such +a thing as Mr. Bingle getting down forty minutes too late was +infinitely more improbable than that all the rest of them should have +reported that much too early. + +The tardy one was conscious of the concentrated stare of sixty eyes as +he slid onto the stool in front of his desk and began to fumble with +the pens and blotters. The man at his left elbow said "well, well!" +and the man at his right elbow said "st! st! st!" with his tongue in a +most reproachful manner. They could understand Mr. Bingle's absence +for three whole days, having got wind of a death in the family, but, +for the life of them, they couldn't see what he meant by spoiling a +perfectly clean record for punctuality when he might have remained +away for the entire day, just as well as not, instead of upsetting a +hallowed tradition in the bank by coming in forty minutes late. + +Moreover, Mr. Bingle was confident that all of the high officials in +the bank, from the president down to the seventh assistant cashier, +had noticed his tremendous shortcoming, and that they were even now +whispering among themselves that he ought to be discharged forthwith. +He could feel people glaring at him from behind; he could feel the +president's eyes, and the four vice-presidents' eyes, and the chairman +of the board's eyes and all of the directors' eyes boring holes +through the partitions to fix their accusing gaze upon him as he bent +nervously over the huge ledger and tried to shrink into invisibility. +He had committed a heinous, inexcusable, unpardonable offence. He +would have to pay the penalty. After all these years of faithful +service, he would be kicked out in disgrace; some one else would be +sitting in his place after luncheon and some one else would be hanging +his coat and hat in the locker he had used for fifteen years without-- +His eyes grew misty as he bent a little closer to the page and tried +to focus his thoughts on what was actually before him. + +What difference would it make to these heartless plutocrats and +overlords when he told them that his wife was ill and that he could +not leave his home until the doctor had come to reassure him? What did +they know about connubial happiness and connubial obligations? They +would stare at him coldly--or perhaps laugh in his face--and say that +the fate of a great banking institution could not be put in jeopardy +just because Mrs. Bingle happened to be critically ill. Mr. Bingle, +for the first time in his life, began to appreciate his own +importance. He began to realise that in all likelihood the bank would +go to pieces as the result of his failure to appear at his desk at the +appointed minute. He recalled having seen the first vice-president and +the cashier in close conversation as he slunk through the little +passage behind the latter's office, and he remembered also with +sickening clearness that they stopped talking and stared at him as he +hurried by. And, now that he thought of it, the first vice-president +had smiled pleasantly and had said something that sounded like "good +morning, Mr. Bingle," although it certainly couldn't have been that. +It was regarded as especially ominous when an official of the bank +said good-morning to a clerk or a bookkeeper. It meant, according to +tradition, that his days were numbered. It was a sort of preliminary +sentence. Later on, there would come a summons to appear at the +"office." + +Mr. Bingle sat on his stool, his feet hooked rigidly in the stretchers +as if prepared to resist any effort to yank him out of the place he +had held for fifteen years, and all the while he was listening for the +voice of the messenger at his shoulder, ordering him to step into Mr. +Force's room. + +The trip to Syracuse had been too much for Mrs. Bingle. The railway +coaches were cold; she shivered nearly all the way up and all the way +back, notwithstanding Melissa's furs and the extra suit of flannels +she had donned at Mr. Bingle's suggestion. She came home with a +frightful cold and a temperature that frightened her husband almost +out of his boots. + +She was not in the habit of taking long journeys by train. As a matter +of fact, she had never been farther away from Manhattan Island than +Hartford, Connecticut, and that experience befell her in the middle of +an extremely torrid June. Perhaps a half-dozen times in the fifteen +years of her married life she had gone to Peekskill to visit her +mother and a married sister, but always in warm weather. Not that she +was too poor to make the trip to Peekskill as often as she liked, but +her mother and sister made it unnecessary by coming to New York for +frequent and sometimes protracted visits at the Bingle apartment, and +usually without first inquiring whether it would be convenient or +otherwise. She very sensibly realised that Mr. Bingle saw quite enough +of his wife's relatives in this way, and refused to drag him into the +country to see more of them. He had better use for his Sundays, and as +for his vacations, they were always spent at home in the laudable +effort to save a little money against the rainy day that people are +always talking about. So Mrs. Bingle stayed at home, and contrived to +love her good little husband more and more as each narrow day went by, +winter and summer, year in and year out, and not once did the iron of +discontent enter her soul. Some day, when they could really afford it, +they were going away for a month's fishing-trip in the wilds of Maine, +but all that could wait. It was something to look forward to, and +there is a lot in that. + +Neither of them had ever dreamed that Syracuse was so near to the +North Pole, nor had they the remotest idea that the weather could be +so cold anywhere on earth as it was in the upper part of New York +State. The coldest days they had ever known in New York City--and they +had always believed that nothing could be colder--were balmy when +compared with that awful day on the outskirts of Syracuse--that bleak, +blighting day in the wind-swept graveyard where the mother of Thomas +Bingle slept. + +They fairly shrivelled in their skins as they stood beside the open +grave and saw, through blurred eyes, the last of Uncle Joe. Both of +Mr. Bingle's ears were frozen quite stiff. A much be-furred +undertaker's assistant rubbed snow on them with what seemed to be +unnecessary vigour and told him to have 'em looked after when he got +back to New York. They were ugly things, those ears of his, and Mr. +Bingle was acutely conscious of their size and colour as he sat at his +desk and waited for word to come to "the office." A sudden and almost +insupportable itching of his heels filled him with fresh alarm, and +for one ghastly moment he forgot his ears and his crime. Were his +heels frost-bitten? If so--then, what was to become of him? + +"Get your uncle buried all right?" inquired his left-hand neighbour, +suddenly speaking out of the void. Mr. Bingle's reply was a guilty, +bewildered start. The man went on: "What did he die of?" + +"Oh," said Mr. Bingle hazily, "most assuredly." + +"I said, what ailed him?" + +"Why, he was dead," said Mr. Bingle, vaguely surprised by the other's +obtuseness. "That's why we buried him." + +"I see," said the questioner, after staring hard for a moment. He +edged a little farther away from Mr. Bingle and shot a swift glance of +apprehension in the direction of the door. + +"I couldn't help being late," ventured Mr. Bingle, his first apology +in fifteen years. "My wife is sick, Jenkins--mighty sick. The doctor +couldn't come at once, so I had to wait. She--" + +"Say," said Jenkins nervously, "the old man didn't die of anything +catching, did he?" + +"Catching?" + +"I mean contagious. Your wife hasn't caught anything from him, has +she? If she has, you oughtn't to come around here carrying--" + +"He died of old age," said Mr. Single stiffly. + +"Sure?" + +"Of course." + +"Well, we all catch that if we live long enough," said Jenkins, +considerably relieved. "How old was he?" + +"Seventy-three." + +"Leave anything?" + +Mr. Bingle was suddenly bereft of all power of speech. Three men were +standing just outside the long bronze caging that enclosed the +bookkeeping-department, and they were looking at him with a directness +that was even more pronounced than the stare of utter dismay with +which he favoured them. There could be no mistake: they were +discussing him--Thomas Bingle! And they were discussing him with +unquestionable seriousness. His heart flopped down to his heels and +his poor ears burned with a fierceness that caused him to fear that +they were on the point of bursting into flames. The first vice- +president was pointing him out to the president, there could be no +doubt about that; and the pompous president was bobbing his head in a +most extraordinary manner, there could be no doubt about that either. +The third man of the trio was the chief watchman, and he was looking +at Mr. Bingle as a cat looks at a captured mouse. It was all over! +They were about to arrest him for embezzlement or murder or something +equally as heinous. Mr. Bingle turned colder than he had been at any +time during his stay in the ice-bound city of Syracuse. + +Then the trio abruptly turned away and left him sitting there, frozen +to the marrow. He tried to swallow, but his throat was paralysed. + +"Gee, that looks bad, Bingle," whispered Jenkins, pityingly. "That was +the old man. What--what the dickens have you been up to?" + +Mr. Bingle's stiff lips moved but no sound came forth. He was to be +discharged! In fifteen years he had been late at his desk but once, +and he was to be discharged! What would Mary say? What would become of +Mary? What would become of Melissa, now that they couldn't afford to +keep a servant? + +"You been here longer than any one, too," went on Jenkins. "How long +has it been, Bingle?" + +"Fifteen years," gulped Mr. Bingle, in a strange, unnatural voice. + +"That's longer than the old man himself," said Jenkins. "He's been +president less'n twelve years. Say, Bingle, I'm all broke up over it. +I--I hope it ain't as bad as we think. Maybe--oh, I say, it's your +EARS! That's what it is. Mr. Force was showing him your ears. And say, +take it from me, Bingle, they're worth going a long way to see, too. +Good Lord, what a relief!" Mr. Bingle actually took hope. Could it be +possible? Were frozen ears so rare a sight that the president of a +great bank--But even as he grasped at the straw he became convinced +that it was very likely to prove his salvation, for, to his amazement +and confusion, the cashier and the fourth vice-president strolled up +to the caging and regarded him with the gravest interest. He bent his +head to the task before him, hoping against hope that it WAS his ears +and not his tardiness. And, when he looked up again many minutes +afterward, other officials of the bank were looking at him from +various points of vantage, and all of them were staring with the most +amazing intentness, quite as if they had never seen anything so +strange as the man who had sat unnoticed in this very spot for fifteen +years and more. Messengers took a peep at him as they circled from +window to window; patrons of the bank sauntered past and squinted +vaguely in his direction. + +Vice-president Force came back a second time and actually pointed him +out to an utter stranger, at the same time waving his hand at Mr. +Bingle in a most friendly and engaging manner! + +The poor bookkeeper reeled on his stool. He laid his pen down, removed +the green shade from over his eyes, placed his blotters neatly in the +rack, and turning to Jenkins, said: + +"I can't stand it, Jenkins. I've--I've just got to know the worst. I'm +going to the office." + +"With--without being sent for?" gasped Jenkins. + +"There's no use putting it off. I--" + +A dapper little page appeared at Mr. Bingle's elbow, interrupting him +with the curt remark that Mr. Force wanted to see him when it was +convenient. + +"Convenient?" murmured Mr. Bingle, his eyes bulging. + +"Well, great--" began Jenkins. + +"That's what he said: convenient," said the page loftily. "Gee, where +did you get them ears?" + +Mr. Bingle got down from his stool slowly, painfully. + +"I guess I'll go now," he said. "It's just as convenient for me to get +out now as--" + +"I can't understand that 'convenient' business," broke in Jenkins, +wrinkling his brow. "Well, good luck, Bingle. I'm sorry." + +Sixty wistful, sympathetic eyes followed Mr. Bingle as he made his way +out to the passage. The word had gone 'round that "old Bingy" was to +get the sack, and every one was saying to himself that if they +discharged a man like Bingle for being late it wouldn't be safe for +any one to transgress for even the tiniest fraction of an instant. + +Half-way down the narrow aisle leading to the offices, Mr. Bingle +stopped to wipe his brow and to pull himself together for the coming +ordeal. A high-and-mighty young man who had been elevated from a +clerkship to the post of third assistant foreign teller, and who no +longer deemed it proper to associate with his erstwhile companions in +the "galleys," emerged from his cage and, coming abruptly upon the +shivering bookkeeper, blinked uncertainly for a moment and then said +in what was unmistakably a polite and even respectful tone: + +"Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Pleasant day, sir, isn't it?" + +If Mr. Bingle had been in a condition to notice such things as +miracles, he might have been struck by this one, but he merely said it +WAS a pleasant day and resumed his way, utterly oblivious to the fact +that a human being had been completely transformed before his very +eyes. A few steps farther on he encountered an even mightier force +than the third assistant foreign teller: the bank detective. + +"Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Nice day, sir," said the bank detective, +somewhat eagerly, and stood aside to let the lowly bookkeeper pass +without being jostled--as was the custom. + +"Morning," said Mr. Bingle, still unimpressed. It seemed to him that +every one was evincing a singular interest in the fact that he was +about to be discharged on a pleasant day. + +Mr. Force was seated at his desk when Bingle entered the room and +found himself in the presence of the man who was certain to become +president when "the old man" died--an event that would have to occur +if the first vice-president's dream of elevation ever came true, for +there wasn't the remotest likelihood that he would have the sense of +decency to resign, no matter how old or how senile he became in the +course of time. + +Now, Mr. Force took himself very seriously. Having married an +exceedingly wealthy woman after a career in which liveliness had meant +more to him than livelihood, he assumed that if he treated the world +at large with extreme aloofness it would soon forget--and overlook-- +the fact that he had never amounted to a row of pins in the estimation +of those who knew him as a harvester in Broadway. Shortly before his +marriage--at forty-three--he abandoned an extensive crop of wild oats +in the very heart of New York City--announcing that he intended to +retire from active business and go to work. + +Going to work meant stepping into a bank as its third vice-president +the week after his return from a honeymoon spent with a bride who +held, in her own right, something over one-half of the entire capital +stock of the institution. Her wedding present to him was the third +vice-presidency and the everlasting enmity of every director and +official in the bank. He accepted both in the spirit in which they +were given. To the surprise of his enemies and the scorn of his +friends, he promptly settled down and made himself so valuable to the +bank that even his wife was vindicated. He managed in one way or +another to increase her holdings and soon was in a position to dictate +to those officially above him. He dictated so effectually in the case +of the first and second vice-president that they preferred to resign +rather than to continue the struggle to keep him in his place. Before +he had been in the bank a year, he was its first vice-president. + +It was generally conceded that the president himself would have been +in jeopardy but for the fact that he was the father of Mrs. Force and +therefore exempt. In order to clarify the situation, it is necessary +to state that the bride inherited her extensive holdings from a former +husband, who, it appears, died of old age when she was but twenty-six. +It would also appear that her father owed his position as president to +the influence of Mr. Force's predecessor, or rather to the influence +that his daughter exercised over an old gentleman in his dotage. Be +that as it may, the present chief executive of the bank was immune for +life. To quote the directorate, he couldn't be FORCED out of office. +His son-in-law would be obliged to wait. He could afford to wait. He +was forty-four. + +It has been said that Mr. Sydney Force was seated at his desk when +Thomas Bingle sidled into the luxurious office. It must now be added +that he did not retain his seat for more than a second after Mr. +Bingle's entrance. In fact, he fairly leaped to his feet, frightening +his visitor into a sudden, spasmodic movement of the hand in search of +the door-knob and a backward shuffle of both feet at once. The little +bookkeeper's alarm was groundless. Mr. Force came forward, beaming, +his hand extended. + +"How are you, Mr. Bingle? Come right in. Well, well, this is splendid. +Too good to be true, 'pon my word it is." He was wringing the little +man's hand violently. "I confess that I am surprised that you +considered it worth while to come down to the bank at all, sir." + +Mr. Bingle was batting his eyes furiously. He was also having a great +deal of difficulty with his knees. + +"I--I couldn't help it, Mr. Force," he stammered. "I really couldn't. +It is the first time in all the years of my connection with--" + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bingle," interrupted Mr. Force, with a +somewhat sweeping wave of the hand that took in practically all of the +office and yet no spot in particular; "this is Mr. Sigsbee." He then +stood aside and permitted Mr. Bingle to discover Mr. Sigsbee, who came +hastily out of the whirling background. + +"Glad to meet you, sir," said Mr. Sigsbee, giving Mr. Bingle's hand a +tremendous squeeze. "I should have known you, Mr. Bingle, anywhere on +earth from the description given to me." + +Description! Poor Bingle's blood congealed. Description? That dreadful +word could have but one application. It was never used except in +connection with people who were wanted for crime. The man was a +detective! + +"Sit down, Mr. Bingle," said Force, with shocking amiability. "Will +you smoke?" + +"No, thank you," said Mr. Bingle, doing his best to pull himself +together and failing completely. "As I was saying, Mr. Force, my wife--" + +At this juncture, the door to an adjoining room was thrown open and +the bank's president stood revealed. At his back was the chairman of +the board and also the cashier, while somewhat indistinctly associated +with the sombre elegance of the room beyond were the figures of a +peeping stenographer and an open-mouthed secretary whose neck was +gallantly stretched almost to the point of dislocation because he was +too much of a gentleman to push the little stenographer out of his +line of vision. + +"Well, well, Bingle!" exclaimed the president, somewhat gustily as he +hastened forward. "How are you? That this should happen to you! It is +unbelievable!" He was pumping Mr. Bingle's arm. "I don't see how in +the world we are to get along without you. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself. Why don't you--" + +"Wha--what in the name of heaven am I accused of doing?" blurted out +Mr. Bingle abjectly. "This is some awful mistake. I--" + +"Accused of doing?" exclaimed Mr. Force, frowning perplexedly. + +"What say, Bingle?" inquired the president, who wasn't quite certain +that his hearing was what it used to be. "What say?" + +Mr. Sigsbee interposed, staring hard at the little man. "Haven't you +been notified of--Oh, I say, you have at least seen the morning +papers?" + +"Have they printed anything about me?" gasped Mr. Bingle, sitting down +very suddenly. "It's a lie, gentlemen--a lie, I tell you! I haven't +done a thing--" + +"Do you mean to say--" began Mr. Force, glaring at the shivering +little man. + +"I'll bring an action against 'em," shouted Mr. Bingle from the depths +of the huge chair. "I'll sue 'em for all they're worth if they've--" + +"Haven't you seen the newspapers?" demanded Mr. Sigsbee, bending over +the occupant of the chair in what that individual mistook for a +menacing attitude. + +"I--I didn't have time to look at the paper," mumbled Mr. Bingle. "My +wife was so miserable that--" + +"Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Force, and then, to Bingle's +astonishment, the five other occupants of the room were overtaken by a +simultaneous impulse to shout at the top of their voices, all of them +crowding close about him and barking unintelligible exclamations into +his very teeth, so to speak. + +The strangest part of it all was that they were in high good humour +and laughed like maniacs. He hadn't the faintest notion what it was +all about, but he began to laugh shrilly. He couldn't help it. He +certainly didn't feel like laughing. The president was slapping Mr. +Force on the back and shouting things that fell upon deaf ears, for +Mr. Force was shouting manfully on his own account. The cashier +stumbled over a chair in trying to get at Mr. Bingle to grasp his +hand, and the chairman of the board began pounding the helpless +bookkeeper on the shoulder with a hand that had all of the weight and +some of the resilience of a sledge hammer. + +It was Mr. Sigsbee who finally settled down to a succinct, intelligent +question, and at once had Mr. Bingle's attention. + +"Didn't you receive my letter in the morning post?" he demanded. + +Mr. Bingle no doubt intended to repeat the word "letter," being +vaguely impressed by its significance, but what he uttered was a +mystified, syllable-less "le'r?" + +"I wrote to say that if it suited your convenience to come to our +offices this afternoon at three, I would see to it that the other +heirs were present, Mr. Bingle." + +"My wife's illness--" began Mr. Bingle hazily, and then brought +himself up with a jerk. Heirs? What in the world was the man talking +about? "I--I beg pardon, sir. I didn't quite catch that. What--" + +Mr. Sigsbee held up his hand, silencing him. Then he turned to the +other gentlemen and said in a strained, excited voice: + +"I suspect, gentlemen, that it would be better if I were to have a few +minutes alone with Mr. Bingle." + +"Right!" exclaimed Mr. Force, regarding the bookkeeper with what +seemed to be infinite compassion in his eyes. "Stay right where you +are, Sigsbee. We'll get out," and he literally shoved the others out +of the office, closing the president's door behind him. + +"Now, Mr. Bingle," said Sigsbee, drawing a chair up close to the +little man's knee, "I want the truth. Have you no--" + +"Before heaven, Mr. Sigsbee, I--I swear I am innocent of--" + +"Have you no inkling of what has befallen you?" concluded the other. + +"No, sir, I haven't," declared Mr. Bingle with conviction. + +"Well, my dear sir," said Sigsbee, laying his hand upon Bingle's knee +and speaking with grave impressiveness, "your late and lamented uncle, +Joseph Hooper, in his will, devises that you are his principal--I +might almost say, his sole heir. He has left practically everything to +you, sir. I--I pray you, be calm. Do not allow this astonishing, this +prodigious--" + +"Oh," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, with a huge sigh of relief and a sudden +relaxing of all his taut nerves, "I know all about THAT, Mr. Sigsbee. +Is that all?" + +"All?" with a stare of amazement. + +"We often joked about it, poor old Uncle Joe and I. He seemed to enjoy +a chuckle once in awhile, in spite of the way the world had used him." + +"I now realise that you are quite ignorant about the whole matter, Mr. +Bingle. My letter would have enlightened you, of course, but as you +did not receive it, I fear that--" + +"I didn't open my letters this morning. Quite forgot 'em, sir. You +see, Mrs. Bingle came down with a fearful--" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Sigsbee. "Perhaps it would be well for me +to describe myself a little more clearly to you, Mr. Bingle. I am of +the firm of Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim, lawyers. We have been acting +for Mr. Hooper for the past six months, or, in other words, since his +return to New York City. Our relations were or a--er--a somewhat +Secret nature, I may say. He made the somewhat Extraordinary demand +upon us, at the time we were Retained, that we should conduct his +affairs with the Utmost secrecy. Especially, ser, were we required to +Keep you in the dark as to the real--" + +"Just a moment, sir," interrupted Mr. Bingle, sitting up very +straight, and staring. "May I ask one questions? Are you sure you +haven't got my Uncle Joe confused with another Joseph Hooper? To my +certain knowledge, he had no transactions with lawyers while staying +at my house. You've got the wrong man, sir, I--" "I've got the right +man, Mr. Bingle," said the lawyer, with a smile. "Your uncle was a +strange man. Have you never heard of Joseph H. Grimwell?" + +"Certainly. Every one has heard of him." + +"Well, your uncle was Joseph H. Grimwell, the millionaire mine-owner +and lumber king. For fifteen years the name of Joseph Grimwell took +the place of--I beg your pardon! I did not mean to put it so abruptly, +sir. Calm yourself! I--" + +"All right," said Mr. Bingle, suddenly collapsing into the chair after +struggling to his feet, his eyes bulging. "All right. I'm--I'm calm. +Go on with the story. You can't expect me to believe it, however. How +on earth could poor old Uncle Joe Hooper, who was actually starving +when he came to me last--" + +"That is the best part of the story, Mr. Bingle," said Sigsbee, +settling back in his chair and linking his plump hands benevolently +across his expansive and somewhat overhanging waistcoat. "That is the +best part of the story, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STORY OF JOSEPH + + +Mr. Bingle went home in a taxi-cab, completely done up. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +Back in 1885, Joseph Hooper, disgraced, disowned by his family and as +poor Job's turkey, made a brief but sufficiently explicit will in +which he named his beloved nephew Thomas Singleton Bingle as his sole +heir. He drew it up on the surface of a fresh, unused postal card, and +had it properly witnessed by the bailiff who came to Bingle's +apartment to demand his appearance before a court to show cause why he +should not consider himself in contempt for having disregarded the +order to pay monthly sums in the shape of alimony to his late but +unlamented wife. + +In looking about for the second witness, he observed a levying deputy +sheriff in the act of carrying off his last and only possession of +value, to wit: a gold-headed cane that had been left to him by his +father. With a fine sense of irony, he persuaded the aforesaid deputy +sheriff to affix his signature to the will, and then remarked with +deep sarcasm that he had "put his house in order" so far as it was in +his power to do so. Inasmuch as the deputy sheriff was making way with +what looked to be his entire estate, saving the clothes upon his back +and the post-card (which he had taken the precaution to address to his +lawyers, thereby securing its protection by the United States +Government), Mr. Hooper's last will and testament as uttered on the +16th day of October, 1885, was necessarily brief and succinct. It +merely said: + +"I hereby revoke any former will I may have made prior to this date, +and now bequeath to my beloved nephew, Thomas Singleton Bingle, my +entire fortune, which at this time appears to be not my face but my +figure. I therefore bequeath to him my physical person, and vest in +him the right to chuck it into the river, or to dispose of it for +medical purposes, as he may see fit, provided however that I shall +first have been declared sufficiently dead by competent judges. I also +bequeath to him any property, great or small, that may be in my +possession at the time of my demise, even though it be no more than +the collar-button with which he so kindly supplied me this morning, +and which I shall always retain as a mark of his devotion, knowing +well what it means for a man to deprive himself of a cherished +belonging." + +This was written in a very fine, cramped hand, and there was ample +room at the bottom for his own signature and those of the witnesses, +although it must be said that the elegant symmetry of the document was +destroyed by the bulging scrawl of the bailiff, whose name was Abraham +Kosziemanowski and who had to turn the final two syllables down at a +sharp angle in order to get the whole of his signature on the card. + +Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim, on the receipt of this jocose +instrument, immediately communicated with their once magnificent +client, who laconically instructed them to put it away in a very safe +place as it might come in handy some time. To their own and to his +subsequent surprise, they DID put it away in a safe place, but forgot +all about it until he walked in upon them fifteen years afterwards and +revealed himself as the great and only Joseph H. Grimwell. + +Having once disinherited his children, he was then in the mood to +reconsider his act, being alive to the fact that his days were +numbered. But he went about the business with the sagacity of an old +dog who has been kicked hard by some one who was not his master. +Instead of proclaiming himself to be the Midas-like Joseph Grimwell, +he appeared before his son and daughters, as poor old Joseph Hooper, +their long lost father, as poor--nay, even poorer than when he went +away, for he had lost the rugged health that was his only possession +at the beginning of his vicissitudes. + +Assuming a condition of abject, though genteel poverty, he went to +each of them in turn. He wanted to give them a chance to reconsider, +as he had done. But they would have none of him! Vastly dismayed by +the failure of his nice little scheme to trick them into filial +responsibility, he was on the point of shouting his denunciations from +the house-tops when he suddenly remembered Tom Bingle: he wondered if +Tom would receive him--an old derelict--with open arms. + +He presented himself, with his battered valise, at the door of Thomas +Bingle's apartment--and was given a warm, even hearty reception! + +And it was on that day--at that very hour, so to speak--that Thomas +Bingle became a fabulously rich man without the slightest effort or +intention on his part. + +Mr. Hooper one day recalled to mind the postal-card will. If his +memory served him right there was something jocose and undignified +about it--something that would not look well in the public prints. He +visited the offices of his lawyers, recovered the amazing instrument, +and forthwith set about to make a new will, bereft of certain grewsome +stipulations but quite as sweeping in purpose as the other had been. +In fact, he left his fortune--as he had done before--to his beloved +nephew, Thomas Singleton Bingle, with three precautionary bequests to +his son and daughters, providing against the contests that were sure +to follow. He bequeathed the sum of one thousand dollars to each of +his children, and he signed his name once more as Joseph H. Hooper-- +for the first time in fourteen years. + +His wanderings as a tramp--in his own account of himself he used the +word "tramp" with a shocking lack of pride--led him inevitably into +the far Northwest. Men were doing things up there. The country fairly +seethed with the activity of live, virile men who were taking the +first staunch grip upon the tricky wheel of fortune and were turning +it to their own account. Every man was building; no man complained of +conditions, for conditions were so new and so ready to hand that he +who found fault was merely lessening his own chance to secure his +share of the vast resources that spread before him, welcoming the +greedy fingers of him who courted the future and shunned the past. All +men lived in the present out there in the great stretches, and all men +were strong and eager. + +Joseph Hooper caught the fever that infected the West. He shook off +the fetters that bound him to a far from enchanted East, and began to +squirm with the first tickling sensations of an ambition that had +never really made itself felt, even in the old days of successful +achievement among men who were content to tread the beaten and +commonplace highway toward riches. The spirit of the West gripped him +in its great, enveloping hands, picked him out of the slough and set +him down again, plump upon his two feet, high and dry, prodding him +violently all the while with a spur that would not permit him to stop +or to take a step backward, with the natural result that he moved +forward--slowly, dazedly at first, and then with a mighty rush. + +He had one advantage over most of the men who were being driven +helter-skelter by the grateful lash of the West: he was a trained +money-getter. Back of him were generations of shrewd business men, +while dormant in his own being was the half-stunned thing called +natural ability. The simple shrewdness of Joseph Hooper, combined with +a certain hitherto unconfessed lack of respect for the Golden Rule, to +say nothing of a vain-glorious desire to kick the world that had +kicked him, soon produced opportunities that paved the way for his +rehabilitation. + +Without a dollar to his name, with nothing in the shape of resources +save a self-sufficient nerve and an infinite eastern contempt for +these struggling westerners, he began to promote things! + +The field was fresh and fertile. Inside of two years he reaped a half- +dozen harvests--and replanted as he went along! First, he promoted a +street railway in a place called Mockawock; then it became necessary +for some one to establish reasons for the existence of such a thing as +a car-line in a town that could be traversed on foot, from one end to +the other, in less than eight minutes; so he began to promote the +organisation of a wagon factory at one extreme and a pickle works at +the other, possessing the far-sightedness to put them so far away from +each other that if one wanted to go to the pickle works from the wagon +factory, or vice versa, he would have to go by trolley unless he +possessed the hardiness of an ox and was not dismayed by the vastness +of the city limits. For like all towns in the great Northwest, +Mockawock had its limits and they were wide enough to make New York or +Chicago appear cramped by comparison. One could walk for hours in a +straight line south from the public square in Mockawock and still not +be "out in the country," figuratively speaking, although he might not +see a house or a human being--unless he turned his head--after the +first ten minutes. He could also walk west or north in the same futile +effort to get out of the "city" into the "country," but he could not +walk east for more than two city blocks. Mockawock happened to be +situated on the shores of Lake Superior and not even the most boastful +citizen would have contended that the city limits reached far in that +direction. + +And, having successfully promoted such enterprises in Mockawock as +would tend to convince the citizens that some day the city limits +would have to be extended, he very wisely took the gains acquired in +the sale of options, the disposal of franchises, the surrender of +equities, and all such, and slipped away to the vast forests in the +north, where he bought timber-land by the section. + +Another town required stirring up by this time, so he descended upon +it, backed by the reputation gained at Mockawock and, before the +citizens could say Jack Robinson, he had skilfully promoted a number +of enterprises, including a belt railroad, an electric lighting plant, +and a new evening newspaper, all of which fairly set the town by the +ears and made him one of the most important figures in the upper Lake +region. + +Once more he slipped off into the forests and took unto himself +additional sections of virgin timber at inconceivably low prices. +Other men made much of the wheat-field and the town-lot, but Joseph +Hooper saw fortune in the forests. Again and again he increased his +timber land holdings. People thought he was buying up town-sites and +smiled smugly among themselves as they discussed the dreadful shock he +was to have when the time came for him to begin clearing away the +timber! + +All this time he was known as Joseph H. Grimwell. There was no such +person as Joseph Hooper. That discredited individual had died, so to +speak, by the wayside, a vagabond. New York had lost track of him; his +family believed him to be dead--or in prison! It is barely possible +that he ought to have been incarcerated for some of his skilfully +manipulated enterprises, but that has nothing to do with this +narrative. It is relevant to dwell only upon the contention that +riches come swiftly to him who makes use of both hands without caring +whether the left knows what the right is doing or the other way about. +At any rate, Joseph Grimwell was a better man than Joseph Hooper ever +had been, and he was a wiser man in many respects than Solomon the +historic. + +In brief, there came a day when his timber turned to gold. The name of +Grimwell became a household word. It even penetrated to the secret +crannies of Wall Street. Men who did not know oak from soft pine began +to plead with him to be "let in on the ground floor." Gentlemen who +sat in mahogany offices and worshipped at unseen shrines, took notice +of this man of the West who was getting more than his share of the +pillage. Promoters sought him out and haggled with him--haggled with +the prince of promoters! They tried to let him into the secret of +making money! + +Fortune may not always favour the brave, but it continues to do a +little something every now and then for the bold. In Joseph Grimwell's +case, it overlooked the fact that he was neither brave nor bold but +rewarded him for being interestingly tricky. Out of sheer respect for +his cleverness in acquiring all of the timber land available, Fortune +set about to outdo him in productiveness. It suddenly remembered that +it had placed three rich copper deposits in separate and distinct +parts of his land and kindly directed him to the spots. + +Now, copper can be turned into gold quite as readily as ice, or beef, +or hops, or any of the products of man's experimentation, just as one +can make hay while the sun shines, even though his field of activity +lies at the bottom of an oil-well. Mr. Grimwell made gold out of his +copper, just as he made it out of oak and pine and ash, and when he +came to be three score years and ten he had so many dollars that, like +Old Mother Hubbard, he didn't know what to do with them. + +It suddenly dawned upon him that there was no one to whom he could +leave this vast accumulation unless he made peace with his past. + +He sold out all of his holdings, reducing everything to coin of the +realm, and once more became a wanderer in search of a place to lay his +head. With fourteen or fifteen millions of dollars in his purse, so to +speak, he slunk into New York, a beggar still and hungrier than he had +ever been in his life. + +Then he tried out the plan that failed. His lawyer and his doctor +alone knew that Joseph Grimwell and Joseph Hooper were one and the +same person, and they were pledged to secrecy. One of them drew up his +will and the other made death as easy as possible for him. His nephew, +poor wretch, buried him in a grave alongside a devoted sister, froze +his ears while doing so--and lost his job in the bank besides! + +The new will was read in the offices of Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim +on the day following Mr. Bingle's first ride in a taxi-cab. The heir +was too bewildered to attend the meeting arranged for the same +afternoon, and it had to be postponed. As a matter of fact, he sent +word to the lawyers that his wife was too ill to come down that +afternoon but would doubtless be better on the following day. When +informed that his wife's presence was unnecessary and that his cousins +were even then on their way down town and that there was no way to +head them off, he blandly inquired if it wouldn't be possible to +postpone the whole matter for a week or two, assuring the gentlemen +that he wouldn't, for all the world, disturb Mrs. Bingle, who appeared +to be sleeping comfortably for the first time in twenty-four hours. In +fact, he informed them that he thought it would be a mistake to break +the news to her while her cold was so bad; as for himself, he didn't +mind waiting a week or two--not in the least--if it was all the same +to Mr. Sigsbee. + +It was Melissa who broke the news to Mrs. Bingle, and it was at once +apparent that it was not a mistake to do so. The good lady improved so +rapidly that she sent for the expensive Dr. Fiddler, dismissing the +cheap Dr. Smith, and by seven o'clock that evening declared that she +had never felt better in all of her life. + +"I suppose you'll fire me now, Mr. Bingle," Melissa had said +dejectedly. "With all that money, you'll be wanting high-priced +servants." + +"Quite so," said Mr. Bingle magnificently. "Much higher-priced, +Melissa." + +"You'll never find any one that loves you more than I do," began +Melissa, on the verge of tears. + +"Allow me," interrupted Mr. Bingle, with a sweep of the hand. "The +highest priced servant in our employ is to be Melissa Taylor, which is +you, my girl. We shall probably keep two or three servants--if we can +find anything for them to do--but none of 'em shall receive as much as +you, Melissa. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." + +"I--I wasn't asking for a raise, sir," murmured Melissa, in +considerable distress. + +"You get it without asking," said Mr. Bingle. It should be remembered +that he was still very much dazed and bewildered. + +"Maybe you'll be having a butler and a regular chef. They come pretty +high, sir," advised Melissa, spilling a little of Mrs. Bingle's tea on +the counterpane. "Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Bingle." + +"Never mind, Melissa," said Mr. Bingle. "I guess we can afford to +spill a little tea if we like. I've no doubt that a butler would spill +a great deal. It doesn't matter what we have to pay him--if we have +him--you shall have five dollars a month more than he gets. That's +settled." + +The least important person at the "reading of the will" was the little +man who sat hunched up in a chair and gazed about him with perplexed +eyes, occasionally touching his sore ears with tender fingers, and +always regretting the act for the reason that it called the attention +of his cousins to something that appeared to gratify them a great deal +more than the actual business at hand. In fact, he never quite got +over that miserable hour of inspection on their part. He never ceased +to regret the condition of his ears on that stupendous occasion. What +might have been a really impressive hour in his life was spoiled by +the certainty that every one was paying more attention to his +misfortune than to his fortune. + +Of course, the conditions of the will were pretty well known to the +three children of Joseph Hooper, hours before they were read to them. +They knew that their detestable father had practically disinherited +them, but they were not prepared for the staggering baseness employed +by the old man in giving his reasons for cutting them off. To their +chagrin, mortification, even shame, they were compelled to listen to +at least a dozen letters that they had written to their father during +the period covered by his supposed degeneracy. The originals of these +letters, stained, dirty, frazzled but incontrovertibly genuine, were +attached to the instrument, and were referred to in certain specific +recommendations incorporated in the body of the will itself. + +Old Joseph had preserved the letters of his children. They were +emphatic evidences of their attitude toward him from first to last. +There was no such thing as going behind them. It might be possible to +produce proof that the testator was unsound of mind, but it would +never be possible to wipe out the written declarations of his mentally +perfect son and daughters. In these delectable missives they +completely disowned him as a father; they raked him fore and aft; they +riddled him with a hundred shafts of scorn; they repeatedly said that +they never wanted to see his face again; they put him out of their +lives and urgently requested him to put them out of his; they expected +nothing of him and they certainly did not want him to expect anything +of them; and so on and so forth. And in spite of all these bitter +rebukings, old Joseph had come back to New York ready and willing to +let bygones be bygones if they would only meet him half way. + +Geoffrey declared in so many words that his father had played a scurvy +trick on all of them. He managed to give utterance to this violent +opinion before his attorney could check his unnecessary eloquence. +After that, Geoffrey, subdued and desolate, kept extremely quiet and +suffered considerably under the convicting gaze of his sisters and +their husbands, all of whom were inclined to disown him there and then +as a brother for his reckless implication that their father was as +sane as any of them. + +Thomas Singleton Bingle was to receive, in round figures, fifteen +million dollars under the will of his uncle, after the funeral +expenses and all just debts had been paid. It was really quite +staggering. If Thomas Singleton Bingle had not been so completely +wrapped up in his ears, it is certain that he would have acted as any +other intelligent human being would have acted at a time like this. He +would have gone stark, staring mad. + +But wait! After all, he DID become a bit daffy. Observing the +desolated, crushed attitude of his three cousins, his honest heart +smote him sorely. He piped up from the depths of his chair and +announced that all he wanted out of the estate was the amount that he +had actually expended in caring for Uncle Joe during the past few +months. He would be satisfied with that and--But he got no farther. +Mr. Sigsbee hastened to remind him that he hadn't anything to say +about it. He didn't have a voice in the matter. And then Angela and +Elizabeth scornfully observed that it was a pretty time to talk about +that sort of thing, after he had so skilfully succeeded in influencing +their poor, mentally unbalanced father to make a will like this one. + +Right heroically, Mr. Bingle declared that he was willing to give all +of his inheritance to any deserving charity, or charities, reserving, +if no one objected, a sufficient amount to enable him to purchase a +little farm on which he could spend the rest of his days and not have +to go on forever as a bookkeeper in a bank. + +"Bosh!" said Geoffrey Hooper, glaring at his rich cousin. + +"Ridiculous!" cried Angela and Elizabeth, transfixing Mr. Bingle with +glittering eyes. + +"Very well," said Mr. Bingle, arising hastily. "Let it be bosh and +ridiculous, just as you like. I would have been willing to take this +small amount, just as I have said, and, what's more, I might have been +willing to divide the estate into four equal parts--if Mr. Sigsbee +would let me do it--but now I'll be damned if I'll do anything for +either of you. You don't deserve a nickel, not one of you. You had +your chance and you didn't take it. I fed and clothed and housed your +father and I stood ready to spend my last dollar to make his last few +days on earth comfortable and easy. I buried him. I went to his +funeral. I took the chance of losing my job by doing so. I froze my +ears--oh, look at 'em! I don't care. And now you--you three! You can +go to the devil, with my compliments as well as Uncle Joe's. Come +along, Mary! Let's get out of this. We've got fifteen million dollars +coming to us, and we don't have to sit here and be insulted by people +to whom we have offered charity. Good day, Mr. Sigsbee. If you want me +for anything, you'll find me at the bank. Now, be sure you wrap your +throat up carefully, Mary. Don't take any chances. You look as though +you were overheated." + +Mr. Sigsbee followed them into the corridor, where he shook hands with +the indignant heir. + +"Your troubles have just begun, Mr. Bingle," he said, with a genial +smile. + +"How's that?" + +"We'll have a long, bitter fight on our hands, but--we'll win. There +will be a contest, you see." + +"All right," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes snapping. "I'm ready. I stood +by Uncle Joe when he was alive, you can bet your last dollar I'm not +going back on him now that he's dead." + +That evening, sitting over the crackling grate fire, Mr. Bingle broke +a long period of silence by remarking to his wife: + +"I dare say we can afford to adopt one or two, Mary, with all this +money we're going to have." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE HONOURABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE + + +Time flies. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +It is another Christmas Eve, ten years later than the one described in +the opening chapter of this narrative. The Honourable Thomas Singleton +Bingle is preparing for his annual reading of "The Christmas Carol." +The sentiment which influences him on this occasion is the same that +inspired the habit in his days of long ago, but the surroundings have +changed. Now the vast drawing-room in the home of Mr. Bingle provides +the setting for an elaborate observance of a custom that has become +almost historic to those who have studied the life and habits of Mr. +Bingle. An imposing English butler, assisted by two able footmen and +the head gardener of the estate, are employed in the final decoration +of the huge room. For seven or eight years they have performed these +Christmas Eve duties in the mansion on the Sound. Melissa, a trifle +more buxom than in the days of the lower West Side apartment but quite +as capable despite her secret knowledge that she receives a greater +salary than the mighty Diggs, is superintending the hanging of a row +of stockings along the mantel-ledge, stockings of variegated hues and +distinguishing sizes. + +There are eleven children in the family now. They range from one year +up to twelve. Kathleen and Frederick divide the distinction of +seniority, both being twelve. There is some doubt as to the actual age +of Henrietta and Guinevere, but for the sake of policy, Henrietta, who +came first, is down in the family records as six, Guinevere as five, +although Mrs. Bingle herself confesses that they came but six weeks +apart, and at a time when a few weeks, either way, make little or no +difference in the computation. This was the nearest that Mr. and Mrs. +Bingle ever came to being blessed with twins. For awhile they hoped +that they could make twins out of these infants, but, as the children +grew older, the impracticability of such a thought--or ambition-- +became clear to them, and they reluctantly abandoned the project. +Henrietta revealed all the characteristics of being of Italian +extraction, while Guinevere was unmistakably Irish. + +If you were to take a motor-ride along the North Shore of Long Island +Sound and feel your way back into private lanes that appear to lead +nowhere in particular, they are so deviously circuitous, you would +pass by the lodge gates of two magnificent estates. One of them +belonged to Mr. Bingle, the other to Sydney Force--or, more strictly +speaking, to Mrs. Sydney Force. It is worthy of mention that Mr. Force +lived up to his theory of regeneration by selling to Mr. Bingle, at a +tremendous profit, one hundred acres off of the least desirable end of +his late father-in-law's estate, thereby proving to himself that the +early bird is a much smarter creation than the one which is satisfied +to possess a mere nest-egg. Of course, the selling of that "parcel" of +land was provocative of most acrimonious disputes between Mr. and Mrs. +Force. Mrs. Force, while not averse to the sale of the land, was +frightfully cut up by the fact that she was to have the impossible +Bingles as neighbours, and Mr. Force, who was the prince of snobs, +berated her soundly for petty snobbishness. + +"Bingle is such a hopelessly common name," she said. + +"It happens to be a proper name," remarked Mr. Force, resorting to a +rather lame sort of wit. + +"If it only had been Mrs. Bransone or Mrs. Mortimer," she sighed. +"They are awfully smart, don't you know. One meets them everywhere." + +"We couldn't have sold that piece of land to either one of 'em," said +he. "They are much too smart for that." + +Mr. Bingle erected a very costly and magnificent house, much against +his will, and spent a great deal of time thereafter in wishing that he +was back in the five-room apartment where he could put his hand on +anything he wanted without having to call for a servant to tell him +where to find it. He was so stupendously rich and so completely awed +by the importance of being acquainted with Mrs. Force that he became a +most desirable neighbour, from that lady's point of view. She +experienced a great deal of pleasure in association with a man who +could be made to feel as small as he gave every sign of being when in +her august presence. It was really a joy to her. With all his money, +he could not induce his wife's gowns to hang as Mrs. Force's hung; he +could not make her boots fit as neatly, nor her hats sit as naturally; +he could not buy style or majesty for Mrs. Bingle. So he was the kind +of neighbour to have. Any woman will tell you that. + +Diggs was telling Watson, the footman, just where to put the +mistletoe. Watson's position was precarious. He was at the top of a +step-ladder, struggling to reach the lowest crystal pendant on the +enormous chandelier, and the ladder was wobbling. + +"It's all tommy-rot," muttered Watson, apropos of nothing that had +gone before. + +"Wot's all tommy-rot?" demanded Mr. Diggs severely. + +"Christmas Eve," said Watson. "I have no objection to Christmas +morning, but 'ang me if I can see any sense in Christmas Eve. What's +it good for, anyway?" + +"You'd better get a taller ladder," said Mr. Diggs. "It's getting on +towards 'alf-past eight. We can't be all night 'anging that bunch of +mistletoe, you know." + +Melissa paused in her work long enough to devote an appraising look +upon Watson. + +"You look very handsome up there, Watson. It gives you a very good +height. Straighten your legs out a bit. If you stand up as straight as +you can you'll be as tall as Mr. Diggs THINKS he is." + +"See here, my fine lady," began Diggs, annoyed. + +"Oh, I beg pardon, Mr. Diggs," cried Melissa. "I didn't see you." + +"You'll get your walking papers if you don't keep your place," said +Diggs ominously. + +"And I'll keep my place if I don't get my walking papers," retorted +Melissa, airily. + +"And what's more," went on the butler, "you'll get the sack anyway if +you don't stop filling the kids up with them yarns of yours. The +nurses were telling Mrs. Bingle that the children didn't go to sleep +for hours last night, they were that scared." + +"Seeing ghosts, dragons and goblins all night long," said Hughes, the +second footman, shoving a big chair into position. Chairs from all +parts of the house had been brought to the drawing-room and arranged +in a semi-circle in front of the huge fireplace, at one corner of +which stood Mr. Bingle's reading lamp, accurately placed at the edge +of a costly little Italian table. There were big chairs and little +chairs, soft chairs and hard ones, chairs of velvet and chairs of +silk, chairs of ancient needle-point and chairs that could not be sat +upon. + +"I didn't tell any ghost stories yesterday," said Melissa. "I told 'em +about robbers and kidnappers." + +"Get the ladder, Watson," said Diggs. "What are you standing there +for? Do you think it's a pedestal you're on?" + +"I just wanted to say that three of the kids saw sea-serpents and +crocodiles in their dreams--" + +"Don't lay it to me, Watson," broke in Melissa. "I'm not to blame if +they had delirium tremens. I didn't give them anything to drink." + +"I--I shall have to speak to Mrs. Bingle about you, Melissa," +exclaimed Diggs severely. + +"Do! She is always complimented when you condescend to speak to her, +Mr. Diggs." + +"Don't scrap," put in the gardener mildly. "Remember it's Christmas +Eve." + +"Oy-yoy!" groaned Watson. "We've all got to listen to Mr. Bingle read +Dickens again. It will be the sixth time I've 'eard The Christmas +Carol in this 'ere room." He departed in quest of the tall step- +ladder, banging Hughes on the shins with the small one as he swung +past. + +Hughes said something under his breath and then, with a quick glance +at Melissa, went on: "I will say this for the old boy, he makes +Christmas a merry one for all of us." + +"Must I remind you again, Hughes, not to speak of the master as 'the +old boy'? Please remember that you were engaged as a TRAINED servant." + +"Well, I'd have you to know, Mr. Diggs, that I'm not one of your bally +English servants. I'm as good an American as any one, and I say what I +please." + +"You were engaged as an English footman. I distinctly told you that at +the intelligence office when I engaged you. You may be as American as +you please on your days out, but while you are on duty in this 'ouse, +you've got to be as English as I am, or--" + +"Oh, I can drop 'em as well as any one, Mr. Diggs," said Hughes +scornfully. "'Ulloa! 'Ere comes the lidy governess!" He was peering +into the hall, the corners of his mouth drawn down in the most +approved English fashion. + +Whatever may have been Mr. Bingle's taste in the selection of rugs and +furniture, he could be charged with no lack of it in his choice of a +governess for the young Bingles. Miss Fairweather was as pretty as a +picture. In fact, you would go a long way before you found a picture +as pretty as Miss Fairweather. Her serene beauty was disturbed, +however, by a perplexed frown, as she hurriedly entered the room and +paused just inside the door for a furtive, agitated glance down the +hall. + +"Diggs, who is in the library with Mr. Bingle?" she inquired, +unconsciously lowering her voice as if fearing the sharpness of +distant ears. It was a very pleasing, musical voice, a fact which no +one appreciated more than Diggs, who boasted of his ability to know a +lady when he heard one. + +"A newspaper chap, Miss Fairweather. To interview Mr. Bingle about +the--"(here he sighed faintly)--"about the Christmas jollities." + +Miss Fairweather sent another futile look in the direction of the +library. She was plainly distressed by her failure to see through the +walls that intervened. + +"What--what name did he give?" + +"I can't say, Miss. I didn't quite catch it myself." + +"But you must have announced him. He gave you his card or--something, +didn't he?" + +"No, Miss. He announced 'imself over the telephone this afternoon. It +sounded like Blinkers, or, even more nearly, on his repeating it, like +Rasmussen. At any rate, Mr. Bingle was expecting 'im, and came out +into the 'all before I had the chance to learn his name proper, so to +speak, Miss." + +She bit her lip, annoyed. "Was it Flanders, Diggs?" + +Mr. Diggs reflected. "It was," said he. "Now that you mention it, it +was. Richard, I think." + +Miss Fairweather lowered her eyes suddenly and grasped the back of a +chair as if to steady herself. The next instant, she had recovered, +except that a queer, hunted look had settled in her eyes. + +"Thank you, Diggs. Please say to Mrs. Bingle that I shall not be down +again this evening. I have a splitting headache." She moved rapidly +toward the door. + +"Won't you be here for the reading, Miss?" + +"No. I always cry when I hear about Tiny Tim." "Beg pardon, Miss, but +as this is your first Christmas Eve 'ere, you'll excuse me for saying +that the entire 'ousehold is expected to be present for the reading. +It is a rule, Miss. Even the cook comes up." + +"Thank you, Diggs. Please give my message to Mrs. Bingle." + +"Very good, Miss." + +"By the way, is this Mr. Flanders tall and fair, with dark grey eyes, +a rather broad mouth and just the tiniest sort of a wave in his hair-- +especially above the ears? And a small white scar on his left thumb?" + +Diggs arose to the demands of the occasion, as he always did. "Yes, +Miss. Quite accurate, I'm sure. And a very pleasant voice, I may add +if you don't mind." + +"Thank you, Diggs," said Miss Fairweather for the third time, and then +scurried across the hall and up the broad staircase, accelerating her +speed materially as the library door was thrown open and lively +masculine voices came booming up from behind her. + +"Sounds like a scene from a novel," said Melissa to Diggs, "A +mysterious stranger appears to disturb the peace and quiet of our +heroine. She runs off and hides in her room, shivering with dread lest +this spectre out of her dark past---" + +"Rubbish!" said Mr. Diggs. + +"Sure," said Melissa. "That's what most novels are. It's my opinion +that that young lady's been on the stage, Mr. Diggs. She acts just +like an actress. I've noticed that in her from the beginning. And the +other day she had a letter from a theatrical manager. I saw the name +on the envelope." + +"I dare say," observed Diggs, inattentively. Watson appeared with the +tall step-ladder. "Be a bit lively, Watson. I 'ear Mr. Bingle in the +'all. Go and open the door for Mr. Flanders, Hughes." + +Melissa happened to be standing directly beneath the mistletoe. Hughes +took advantage of an opportunity that has become historic. Then he +passed swiftly out of the room, followed by Melissa's astonished: "Oh, +you!" Watson came nimbly down the ladder and emulated the example of +the astonishing Hughes quite before Melissa could recover herself. He +received a resounding smack in return, but from the young woman's open +hand. + +"Don't stand under it," he grumbled ruefully, "unless you want to play +the game." + +"I'll stand under it as long as I please," said Melissa defiantly, +planting herself firmly on the spot from which Watson had hastily +removed the ladder. She faced Mr. Diggs. + +Mr. Diggs coloured. He cleared his throat and then glared at Watson, +who went grinning from the room. Melissa was a very pretty, rosy young +woman, and her eyes flashed dangerously. + +"It's a fine old custom," said Mr. Diggs persuasively. "In merry +England we hobserve it--er--you might say religiously, and without +fear of future complications. It can be done in a dignified fashion +if--" + +"I don't want to have it done in a dignified fashion," protested +Melissa, lifting her round little chin and pursing her lips +invitingly. "Do it as if you liked it, not as if you wanted to be +religious." + +Mr. Diggs became human at once. He laid aside his austerity, and was +no longer a butler but a good-looking chap of thirty-five who had the +"very Old Nick" in him. It was the sort of kiss that has nothing in +common with mistletoe--the sort that DOES lead to future +complications. It proved something to Melissa, and she uttered a +little sigh of happiness. Mr. Diggs kissed her because he was in love +with her. + +Unfortunately, Mr. Bingle entered the room at the very instant of +least resistance, and coughed. + +"Oh, I--I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, genuinely +distressed. It is worthy of note that it was the good little man who +apologised, not Diggs. + +As the master was accompanied by the tall young newspaper chap, who +grinned abominably, both Diggs and Melissa forgot their moment of +bliss and fell from a great height. Needless to say, they were +speechless. + +"It's quite all right, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle, affecting a vast +geniality. "What's a mistletoe for if not to--yes, yes, Melissa, it's +quite all right. Ahem! Don't you agree with me, Mr. Flanders?" + +"Thoroughly," said Mr. Flanders with conviction. "And what's more, Mr. +Bingle, I agree with Diggs." + +Melissa, crimson to her throat, fled. Mr. Diggs passed his hand over +his brow, as if to clear his brain, and then stammered in a voice that +strove hard to regain its former impressiveness: + +"Yes, sir, it--it is all right, sir. Quite all right, sir. As right as +can be, sir." + +"Right as rain," proclaimed Mr. Bingle, resorting to a habit of +imitation that had marked his progress during the past few years of +observation. He had heard the imposing Diggs say it, many times over. +It was quite the proper thing to say, of course--apparently on any and +all occasions--but, for the life of him, Mr. Bingle couldn't grasp the +significance of the simile. "And now, Diggs, THAT being settled, is +everything else all right?" He surveyed the great, gaily bedecked room +with an eye that took in the smallest detail. + +"I think so, sir," said Diggs, slowly recovering. "You will hobserve, +sir, that I have added the necessary new chair--the 'igh-chair over +here, sir, for little Miss Him--Imogene." + +"I see. We make it a point, Mr. Flanders, to get a new baby at least +once a year. The first year, as I explained, we had three. Two or +three years ago, one came in May and another in September." + +"Mental arithmetic gives you twelve in all," said young Mr. Flanders. + +"Eleven. We lost one in 1906. Little Harriet." + +"Eleanor, sir, begging your pardon," corrected Diggs. + +"Right. Thank you, Diggs. Malnutrition. We never should have had her. +There goes the door-bell, Tell Mrs. Bingle that Mr. and Mrs. Force +have arrived, and give Mr. Force a drink before she comes down." + +"Very good, sir." Diggs retired with gravity. + +"President of our bank, you know. Mr. Sydney Force," explained Mr. +Bingle. + +"I know. The husband of Mrs. Sydney Force," said Flanders, a twinkle +in his grey eyes. + +"Sit down, Mr. Flanders. I'd ask you to have a cigar, but the nurses +say that smoke isn't good for the children. Force always smokes here. +I can't tell him not to, you see. He wouldn't come again." In that bit +of ingenuousness, Mr. Bingle exposed the family state of mind in +respect to their aristocratic neighbours. "Now, this is where we have +the reading. Permit me to call your attention to the way we arrange +the--er--the auditorium, you might say. That's where I sit--over +there. I'm glad you've decided to stay and hear The Christmas Carol. +It will do you good, Mr. Flanders. You'll be a better man for it. +There is a train in at nine-fifty-five. We'll not be interrupted here, +so fire away. I'm ready to be interviewed." + +They seated themselves on the broad, luxurious couch that marked the +precise centre of the semi-circle and was evidently intended to be the +section of honour. Mr. Bingle leaned back, stretched out his slender +legs, crossed his feet, and looked over his tortoise-shell glasses +with a fine assumption of tolerance. He was still trying, after many +years, to enjoy his own importance. Sad to relate, he still expected +to wake up and find that he had but half an hour in which to eat his +breakfast and get across town to the bookkeeper's stool he had +occupied the day before. He sometimes felt of his ears reminiscently, +for they seemed in some way to clearly connect him with his last +waking hours. He never quite got over listening for the alarm clock. + +At fifty-three, he was no older in appearance than when he was forty- +three. If anything, he seemed younger, for the harassed, care-worn +expression had disappeared, leaving him bland, benign of countenance, +although the same imperishable wrinkles lined his pinched cheeks. He +was just as careless about his sparse hair as in the days of old. It +was never by any chance sleek and orderly. The habit of running his +fingers through his thatch still clung to him, significant reminder of +the perplexities that filled his daily life over the ledgers and day- +books. In all other respects, however, he was a re-made man. + +His trim little frame was clothed in expensive garments; his patent +leather pumps were the handiwork of the most fashionable of +bootmakers, and quite uncomfortable; his hosiery was of the finest +silk and his watch-chain was of platinum; there were pearl studs in +his unpolished shirt front and four shining black buttons on his neat +white waistcoat; his clawhammer coat had a velvet collar and fitted +him about the shoulders as if it had been constructed for a man who +possessed much more of a figure than he; and his trousers were primly +pressed. Not the same old Bingle outwardly, you will say, but you are +wrong. He was, and always will be, like the leopard. + +A certain briskness of manner, inspired by necessity, had come to him +in these days of opulence. His position in life made its demands, and +one of the most exacting of these denied him the privileges of +familiarity. He would have liked nothing better than an hour or two a +day of general conversation with Mrs. Bingle and Melissa--say while +the latter was tidying up the library--but that was utterly out of the +question under the new order of things. He was compelled, by virtue of +exaltation, to be very crisp, succinct, positive in his treatment of +the most trivial matters; as for conversing amiably with a single +servant in his establishment, something told him more plainly than +words that it would not be tolerated--not for an instant. He would +have given a great deal to be able to just once shout a glad, +cheerful, heart-felt "good morning" to Diggs--or to any one of the +servants, for that matter--but custom and the surprising dignity of +his employees compelled him to utter the greeting in a casual, bored +manner, quite as if he did it automatically and always as if he was on +the point of clearing his throat. He sorely missed Melissa's +spontaneous, even vulgar "Morning, Mist' Bingle," and the rattle of +cutlery and chinaware. Melissa had acquired a fine but watchful +dignity. She now said "good morning, sir" in the hushed, impersonal +voice of the trained servant. She never "joked" with him, as of yore, +although he was by way of knowing that she bubbled over with fun in +the regions "below stairs." + +"I haven't heard The Christmas Carol since I was twelve years old," +said Richard Flanders. He had his note paper on his knee. "What I +want, Mr. Bingle, is a good Christmas story from you. We shall play it +up, of course, and--well, it ought to be good reading. Your own story, +sir, from the beginning. All about the Hooper millions and the +children that just grew." + +"Something stranger than fiction, eh?" mused Mr. Bingle. "But, my dear +sir, it's such an old story, this yarn about me. The newspapers have +worn it to shreds. Suppose we leave out all reference to the Hooper +millions. If the public is as tired of those millions as I am at +times, Mr. Flanders, we'll be doing an act of charity if we leave 'em +out. You will get your best story, as you call it, by observing what +happens here to-night. No one else has ever done it for a newspaper. +You are the first, my dear sir. I am a simple man. I don't like to be +in the newspapers. The long and tiresome litigation over my poor +uncle's estate has kept me more or less in the limelight, as you +fellows would say, and there have been times when I willingly would +have given up the fight if my lawyers had allowed me to do so. But a +lawyer is something you can't get rid of, once you've got him--or he's +got you, strictly speaking. My lawyers won't allow ME to quit, and I +have every reason to suspect that they won't allow the other side to +quit. However, I believe the matter is nearing an end. The United +States Supreme Court will pass on the issue just as soon as the +lawyers on both sides reach a verdict--that is to say, a verdict +acknowledging that it won't pay them to delay the business any longer. +The case of Hooper et al vs. Bingle has been going on like the +Jarndyce matter for nearly nine years. We've licked them in every +court and in three separate hearings, and my lawyers are confident the +Supreme Court will sustain the findings of the lower courts. I am a +tender-hearted lunatic, Mr. Flanders. I have made an arrangement +whereby the son and two daughters of Joseph Hooper are to be paid one +million dollars each out of the estate, just as soon as I know +definitely that I have beaten them in the court of last resort. I +guess that will surprise 'em, eh?" + +Flanders' eyes glittered. "Don't forget, Mr. Bingle, that you are +speaking to a newspaper man. That last statement of yours would make a +sensation, sir." + +Mr. Bingle sighed. "I am sure you will not take advantage of me, Mr. +Flanders. I have made a similar statement to every newspaper man who +has interviewed me, and every one of them has promised not to use it +in his paper. So far not one of them has violated his promise. I am +sure, sir, that you are no less honourable than the rest of the boys." + +"I have given no promise, sir." + +"Nevertheless I shall trust you not to use the statement, Mr. +Flanders. And now, let us get back to the important part of the +interview." + +Flanders stared hard for a few seconds, unable to comprehend the +serene faith that this little but exceedingly important man reposed in +his fellow-man. He appeared to take it for granted that this startling +piece of confidence would not be betrayed, no matter to whom it was +extended. There was something actually pathetic in his guilelessness. +Mr. Richard Flanders admittedly was staggered, and yet somewhere down +in his soul he knew there was a spark of fairness that would become a +stupendous obstacle in the path of his news-getting avarice. Of +course, he was no less honourable than the rest of the boys! + +"You would be more generous toward your cousins, I fear, than they +could be toward you," said the reporter, twisting his pencil +nervously. After all, it WOULD create a sensation, this remarkable +statement of Mr. Bingle. + +"Oh, they would cheerfully see me rot in the poorhouse," assented Mr. +Bingle composedly. "I am not deceiving myself in regard to Geoffrey +and Angela and Lizzie--I mean Elizabeth. You won't mention what I have +just confided to you, will you, Mr. Flanders?" + +Flanders sighed. He had hoped that the petition would not be put into +definite form. + +"Certainly not, sir--if you--er--if you'd rather I wouldn't," he +managed to say with a fair show of alacrity. "But, gee!" The half- +muttered ejaculation spoke volumes of regret. + +His host smiled complacently. It was settled, so far as he was +concerned. Mr. Flanders was to be depended upon. + +"Still snowing when you came in?" he asked, quite irrelevantly but +with interest. + +"Yes, sir--hard." + +"Good! We'll have bob-sledding on the terrace for the kiddies to- +morrow. I suppose you'd like to know how we happen to have such a +large and growing family. Well, it's all very simple. It is our +practice to acquire a new baby at least once a year. On occasions we +have felt called upon to make it two, and even three, but of late it +seems the more sensible plan to limit ourselves to one. It is our idea +to keep up the practice until I am seventy-five, if God permits me to +live to that age. So, you see, we will have reared a family of thirty- +three children by that time, and we will never be without little +toddlers and prattlers. I am fifty-three now, Mr. Flanders. We are +reasonably sure to have twenty-two additions to the family. The +pitiful part of getting old and decrepit lies in the fact that one's +children grow up, get married, leave home--or die--and that is just +what we are trying to guard against. On my seventy-fifth birthday, +there will be a fine, healthy two-year-old babe crying and goo-gooing +for my especial benefit, and by working backwards in your figuring you +can also credit us with a three-year-old, a four-year-old, and so on +up the line. Naturally we will have lost a goodly number of the first- +comers, but we provide against a deficit, so to speak, by this little +plan of ours. Some of the girls may not turn out as well as we expect, +however, so there is the possibility that they may remain with us to +the end, enjoying single-blessedness. The boys, of course, will +marry." + +"It is splendid, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders enthusiastically. "You are +a wonder." + +"Not at all, not at all," protested Mr. Bingle, with a deprecatory +gesture. "I'm a selfish, conniving old rascal, that's what I am. We've +always wanted children, Mrs. Bingle and I, and we never--er--never +seemed to have 'em as other people do, so we began to look for +children that needed parents as much as we needed children. That's the +whole thing in a nut-shell. We are a bit high-handed about it, too. We +never have a child until it is past the teething age and can walk a +little bit and talk a little bit. So, you see, we manage to have 'em +without the drawbacks. That's where we are selfish and--" + +"I think you're quite sensible about it, Mr. Bingle," interrupted +Flanders politely." They say teething is awful." + +"That's what they say," said Mr. Bingle, a slight frown of regret on +his brow. "Still, I should have preferred--ahem! Yes, yes! Most +annoying, I'm told. The nurses seem to know. We began adopting our +children as soon as we came into possession of my Uncle Joseph's +money. Up to that time, we had hesitated about having other people's +children on our hands and minds. Of course you'll understand that +poverty could never have stood in the way of our having children of +our own. God simply did not choose to give them to us. The old saying, +'a poor man for children,' did not work very well in my case. Mrs. +Bingle is ten years younger than I. She is a strong, normal woman. I +never could understand why--er--and neither could she, for that +matter. As soon as we came into this fortune, or, more accurately +speaking, after we had returned from our first trip to California and +a short visit to Chicago, we adopted Kathleen. She was the daughter of +a young woman who--but, never mind. We sha'n't go into that. She was +about two years old. At once it occurred to both of us that it would +be a fine idea to have a boy to grow up with her. So we called in the +stork. He happened to have a splendid, left-over, unclaimed two-year- +old boy in stock, so we took him. That was Frederick. Then, a friend +of mine--a widower who worked as a bookkeeper alongside of me, chap +named Jenkins--died very suddenly, leaving a little girl just under +eighteen months of age. That's how we got Marie Louise. And so it +goes, Mr. Flanders, right up to date. Henrietta and Guinevere are +almost twins. Six weeks between 'em. They--" + +"You mean in respect to age or--" + +"In respect to their arrival. Guinevere came much sooner than was +anticipated, you might say. Little Imogene came the twenty-sixth of +last September. She cries a good deal. I am inclined to think she's +getting her wisdom teeth." + +"Naturally, Mrs. Bingle is keen about the idea. Saves a lot of +bother." + +"It's got to be such a joy having children in this way, when we +please, as often as we like, and being able to determine sex to our +own satisfaction, that we really look forward to the arrival of a new +one. There's always the pleasure of picking out blondes or brunettes. +We try to equalize as much as possible. I am--or was--a blonde, Mr. +Flanders--quite a decided blonde. Mrs. Bingle is still a brunette." + +"And now, may I inquire, do they all regard you as their real father?" + +"In a measure. There are times when they look upon me as a sort of +truck-horse. But real fathers have told me that that is customary. +They call me daddy, if that's what you mean. Once in a while they seem +to recollect that there was another man and woman in their lives, but +not often. Generally people who used to beat them, I gather. I will +say this for our children: they were all thoroughly spanked before +they came to us. It takes 'em a long time to get used to not being +spanked." + +"Do you never punish them?" + +"Frequently. If they're bad I have them locked in a closet. We've got +a very large closet with windows and other comforts. Usually there are +three or four of 'em in at the same time, so they don't mind." + +"God will surely reward you, sir, for being kind to all these poor +little kiddies. May I--ahem!--May I express the hope, sir, that some +day you may me blessed with--er--" + +"No use, sir. Thank you, just the same. It will never happen." + +"How many nurses have you in your employ?" + +"Four at present. We also have a school-teacher--I mean, a governess. +Excellent young woman. Teaches 'em French and German. Curiously enough +some of the children take to foreign languages quicker than the +others. Force says that Reginald is a Hebrew. He was supposed to be +Irish." + +"Very interesting. All of them strong and healthy?" + +"Absolutely. You'd think so if you could see 'em fight occasionally. +They've had the whooping cough and chicken-pox. My doctor is the +renowned Dr. Fiddler. You know of him?" + +Mr. Bingle proceeded to dilate upon the activities and achievements of +Dr. Fiddler. There had been broken arms and prodigious bruises, cuts +and gashes of every conceivable character, and in every instance Dr. +Fiddler had performed with heroic fidelity. In the middle of a +particularly enthusiastic tribute to the doctor's skill as a fish-bone +extractor, Diggs appeared in the doorway, coughed indulgently, and +then advanced. + +"Beg pardon, sir. Mrs. Bingle says the children are getting nervous. +They happear to be--" + +A series of shrill screeches descended the stairway, followed by the +sudden slamming of a distant doorway and the instantaneous suppression +of bedlam. + +"Quite so, quite so," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, springing to his feet. +"Dear me, it is past the hour. Forgive me, Mr. Flanders, but--but I +really can't delay the--er--Yes, yes, Diggs, tell Mrs. Bingle that we +are all ready. Keep your seat, Mr. Flanders. Don't mind me. I must run +upstairs and see if--Quite so, Diggs. They MUST be nervous. Where is +Miss Fairweather?" + +"She has a 'eadache, sir, and says she can't come down--" + +"Stuff and nonsense! It will cure her headache. Send for her, Diggs. +She's our new governess, Mr. Flan--" + +"What was the name?" demanded the reporter, pricking up his ears. He +leaned forward with a new interest in his lively grey eyes. But Mr. +Bingle was gone, his coat-tails fairly whisking around the heavy +portieres. + +"Fairweather, sir," supplied Diggs. "Miss Hamy--I mean to say, Amy-- +Fairweather." + +"Good Lord!" fell from the lips of Richard Flanders. Then he proceeded +to behave in the most astonishing manner. He sprang to his feet and +grasped the retreating Diggs by the arm, literally jerking that +dignified individual back upon his heels. His eyes were gleaming. +"Dark brown hair and soft grey eyes? Fairly tall and slend--" The sly +grin on the butler's face served to check the outburst. He abruptly +subdued his emotions. "Excuse me for grabbing you like that. I--I was +just wondering if--" + +Diggs had recovered his urbanity. "She is the same Miss Fairweather, +sir. I recognise her from your description. It may interest you to +hear, sir, that she acted just as queerly as you when I told her that +you--" + +"What did you tell her?" demanded Flanders, seeing that Diggs +hesitated. + +"That you had a scar on your thumb, sir. By the way, HAVE you?" + +"I have!" exclaimed the young man. "Well, by George! Will wonders +never cease? Where is she? You say she isn't coming down--but, of +course, not! She couldn't think of it, knowing that I am here. I say, +will you--will you see that she gets a message from me? Wait a second. +I'll write it now. Just slip a note to her--Great Scott! What's that?" + +The house seemed to be clattering down about his head. + +"That, sir," responded Diggs, drawing a deep breath, "is the charge of +the light brigade. Hinfants in arms, you might say. There's no +stopping them now. 'Ere they come." + +And down the wide stairway streamed the shrieking vanguard of the +Christmas revellers--seven or eight unrestrained youngsters who had +snatched liberty from the nurses the instant Mr. Bingle opened the +play-room door at the top of the house. Down the steps they came, +regardless of stumbles and tumbles--an avalanche of joy. + +Diggs, from the doorway, raked the stairway and its squirming horde +with an exploring eye. + +"She is coming, sir. Fairly tall and slender, sir, and--" + +"Good Lord!" gasped Flanders, helplessly. "This is more than I can +stand. Diggs, do--do men ever faint?" + +There was no reply. Three sturdy youngsters collided with Diggs. There +was nothing he could say--with lucidity. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SEARCHERS REWARDED + + +Miss Fairweather bowed gravely to Flanders as she passed. Diggs +observed her closely. He was conscious of a sensation of +disappointment. He had counted on a scene--an interesting scene. +Circumstances justified something more thrilling than a mere nod of +the head, his intelligence argued, and it was really too bad to have +it turn out so tamely. + +Mr. Flanders, looking a trifle dazed and bewildered, contrived to hide +his emotions in a most commendable manner. A keener observer than +Diggs, however, would have detected a strange pallor in the young +woman's smooth cheek and an ominous shadow between her finely +pencilled brows. Even Diggs might have observed these symptoms but for +the fact that she kept her face rigidly averted. Mr. Flanders, from +his position near the door--he seemed to have taken root there--was +favoured with no more than a glimpse of the tip of a small ear and the +faintest suggestion of a cheek's outline. His own face, entirely +visible to Diggs, was scarlet--quite frankly so. + +Four nurses appeared, carrying infants. Miss Fairweather assisted in +the task of placing the sleepy-heads in their high-chairs and in the +subsequent occupation of entertaining them by means of sundry grimaces +and motions, keeping them awake--and quiet--against the arrival of Mr. +Bingle, who, it appears, had gone to his room to substitute a pair of +far from fashionable carpet slippers for the smart pumps he had been +wearing. There was a great deal of excitement attending the placing of +the children, but it passed unnoticed by Mr. Flanders. He was staring +hungrily, pleadingly at the unfriendly back of the new governess. + +Once she gave him a swift, perhaps unintentional look. It was too +brief to be described as significant, but it served to revive his +interest in the proceedings. He sprang forward and offered his aid to +the nurses. If he was clumsy in his attempt to jiggle a chair into +position, an explanation may be instantly provided. Miss Fairweather, +after a brief stare of indecision, favoured him with an almost +imperceptible smile. He happened to be in the act of pushing a high- +chair under the wriggling person of Imogene. That smile caused the +momentary paralysis of his whole being, with the result that the nurse +came near to depositing Imogene on the floor. Every one--except +Imogene--squealed. Mr. Flanders was reminded of his own existence. The +arrested chair shot into position and Imogene came down rather soundly +on the seat of it, and then every one giggled--except Imogene. + +"Amy!" he whispered, as she turned away from the little group. He was +at her side in an instant. She faced him, and there was no trace of +the departed smile in her eyes. + +"How dare you speak to me?" she said in low, intense tones. Her eyes +were cold, unfriendly. + +"I've been searching for you--" he began, eagerly, but her disdainful +laugh cut him short. + +"Go away, please. I don't want to see you. There is nothing more to be +said between us. It's all over, Dick. Don't speak to me again. I--I +don't want the Bingles to know that I--" + +"I must see you, Amy," he persisted. "It isn't all over. Now that I've +found you, I'll see that I don't lose track of you again. We can't +talk here. Where can I see you alone--" + +"Sh!" she cautioned, and he respected the appeal in her dark, +distressed eyes. Mr. Bingle had entered the room, and was greeted by a +shout of delight from the children. The governess moved swiftly away +from the young man's side, mingling with the nurses by the fireplace. + +Mr. Bingle, hurrying toward the semi-circle of youngsters was +surprised by a genial slap on the back from the visibly excited +Flanders. + +"Wonderful!" exclaimed the young man, his face radiant. "Wonderful!" + +"Aren't they?" cried Mr. Bingle, pleased. + +"I don't mean the--Ahem! They certainly are, Mr. Bingle. I expect this +to be the most beautiful Christmas Eve in all my life, sir. I shall +never be able to thank you for--" + +"Tush, tush! Now come along. I want to introduce you to the young +ladies and gentlemen. Imogene, my dear, this is Mr. Flanders. +Kathleen, shake hands with--oh, I beg pardon, I ought to have +presented you to the Fairy Princess. Miss Fairweather, just a moment, +please. I want you to meet my friend, Mr. Flanders, of the Banner. +Well, well, are we all here? Let me see: one, two, three--no, hold up +your hands as I call the roll. Strict attention, Mr. Flanders, and +you'll know which is which--I say, Flanders, would you mind looking +this way, please? Children first, on an occasion like this, sir. +Grown-ups don't count. How is your headache, Miss Fairweather? Now, +speak up, children. Answer to your names--and how to Mr. Flanders, +while you're about it." + +Planting himself in front of the row of eager children, grasping +Flanders's arm with one hand, and employing the other in a sort of +counting-off process, he called the roll. + +Kathleen, exquisitely dressed and radiant with joy, a dainty miss who +looked to be fourteen but was said to be twelve, curtsied to Flanders, +who bowed low, his roving eye unwilling to relax its interest in the +flushed face of the governess. Then came Frederick, a sturdy +youngster; Marie Louise, a solemn-eyed ten-year-old; Wilberforce, +Reginald, Henrietta, Guinevere, Harold, Rosemary, Rutherford, and last +of all Imogene, who whimpered. + +"There!" said Mr. Bingle proudly. "They did it very nicely, didn't +they, nurse?" He addressed the four nurses, who beamed as one. "Diggs, +you may summon the servants. I hear Mrs. Bingle and our guests in the +hall--or is it the--er--ahem!" + +"The servants 'ave congregated in the 'all, sir. It is them that is +whispering," said Diggs, who had been scowling in the direction of the +door. "I shall speak to them, sir. They should be made to understand-- +" + +"Don't lecture them to-night, Diggs," broke in Mr. Bingle hastily. +"Not on Christmas Eve. Let 'em whisper. Tell 'em to come right in. You +see, Mr. Flanders, we have the servants in to hear the Christmas +Carol. It's my rule. They enjoy it. They--Ah, my dear! Here we are! +This is Mr. Flanders, Mary--my wife, sir. Come right in, Mrs. Forced. +Permit me to introduce my old friend Flanders of the Banner. Mr. +Force, shake hands with Mr. Flanders. Now--er--ahem! All right, Diggs-- +call 'em in." + +The servants--a horde of them--stalked into the room, each one being +formally, but perfunctorily announced by the butler, and each one +flushing painfully in return for the attention. There was Delia, the +cook, and Christine, her assistant; Swanson, the furnace man; +Lockhart, the chauffeur, and Boyles, the washer; Cora, the laundress; +Georgia, the scullery-maid; Edgecomb, the gardener, and his four +helpers; Beulah and Emma, the upstairs-maids; Bliss, the lodge-keeper, +and Jane, his daughter; Frank, the pony-cart driver, and Joe, the +coachman; Matson, the stable-boy; Fannie, the seamstress; Rudolph, the +carpenter; Miss McLeish, the stenographer and telephone operator; +Throckinorton, the dairy-man; Scott, the stockman; John Butts, the +handy-man; Melissa, Watson and Hughes. The four nurses escaped +official announcement because they had been clever enough to +anticipate the formality. + +Awkward, ill-at-ease in Sunday garments, and almost sullen in their +efforts to appear impressed, they formed an amazing group as they +clumsily ranged themselves in a compact fringe outside the more +favoured guests of the evening, who occupied what may be described as +the "orchestra." They remained standing. + +"Ever see the play called 'The Admirable Crichton'?" whispered Mr. +Bingle to Flanders while the servants were crowding into their places. + +"Yes," said Flanders. "I recognise the setting, but I miss the grown- +up daughters. Diggs is shorn of his opportunities, sir." + +"That play gave me an idea. It was written by a fellow named Barrie. +He also wrote 'Peter Pan.' That is the greatest play ever written." + +"If one believes in fairies, Mr. Bingle." + +"Well, I do," said Mr. Bingle. + +"So do I," said Flanders, his gaze wandering. Miss Fairweather was +caught in the act of staring at him. She lowered her eyes. + +Mr. Force arbitrarily had settled into the chair next to little +Kathleen. His hard, impassive face wore a softer expression than was +usually to be observed there, and his voice, ordinarily brusque and +domineering, became ludicrously soft and wheedling. + +"Come here, Kathleen. Sit on my knee. I've--I've got something pretty +for you." + +Kathleen instantly lost her joyous, happy expression. Her eyes fell +and her manner betrayed unmistakable aversion to the august +petitioner. + +"Thank you, Mr. Force," she muttered, and was guiltily conscious of +impoliteness. Frederick snickered. "I--I don't want to," she went on, +spurred to defiance by her brother's action. + +"Why not?" demanded Mr. Force coaxingly. + +"Oh--because," said Kathleen, almost surlily. + +"Don't you like me, Kathleen?" + +"Yes, sir," said she, but without enthusiasm. + +"Would you like to see what I've got for you? All for yourself alone, +you know." + +Kathleen couldn't resist. She betrayed the greediness that overcomes +all feminine antipathy. "What is it?" she asked guardedly. + +"Sit on my knee and I'll put it around your neck," said he, fumbling +in his waistcoat pocket. + +The child flushed painfully and her eyes fell again. "I don't want +to," she repeated. + +Force got up from his chair, muttered something under his breath, and +moved away. He almost collided with Bingle. + +"What's the matter with these kids of yours, Bingle?" he began +irascibly. "Why don't you bring them up properly? Teach 'em +politeness. Teach them how to behave toward--" + +"My dear Force, has--has Kathleen been rude?" said Mr. Bingle in +distress. + +"You are not to reprimand her," said Force hastily. "I wouldn't have +you do that for the world. She'd always have it in for me if she knew +that I--but, what nonsense I'm talking. They are little ingrates +anyhow--all of them. Good Lord, Bingle, I can't understand what you +see in the brats." + +"I know you can't," said Mr. Bingle mildly. "That's just the +difference between us." + +"There's only one in the whole lot that I'd have as a gift," said +Force, with a sidelong glance at Kathleen, who was joyous once more. +"That girl has got some class to her. Why is it, Bingle, that she +dislikes me? All the rest of 'em are friendly enough--too friendly, if +anything--but she won't even look at me." + +"That's the woman of it," said Mr. Bingle. + +"What's the woman of it?" demanded Force gruffly. "What do you mean by +'woman of it'? Don't be silly, Bingle. She's a mere child." + +"She'll come around all right," said Mr. Bingle gaily. "Give her time, +old fellow, give her time." + +"Good heavens, what a racket they're making," growled Force. "Have you +no control over them, Bingle? I'd send the whole lot of them to bed, +hang me if I wouldn't." + +"On Christmas Eve? Oh, no, you wouldn't, old--Where are you going?" + +"I'm going into the library to smoke," said Force. "I can't stand the +row." + +"Now, don't do that," pleaded Mr. Bingle, grasping his arm. "Wait a +minute. I'll speak to Kathie. She--" + +"Do nothing of the sort," snapped Force. "She doesn't like me, and +that's all there is to it. I've taken a fancy to the child, Bingle--I +never liked a kid before in all my life. I've got a little present for +her, but--oh, well, never mind. I'll put it in her stocking, if you'll +tell me which is hers. But I say, why doesn't she like me, Bingle?" He +was staring at the back of Kathleen's brown, curly head, and his eyes +were filled with perplexity. + +"Bashful--just bashful," explained Mr. Bingle. + +"Do you really think so?" demanded the other eagerly. + +"Sure," said Mr. Bingle, delighted. "All girls go through that stage +of development. I don't mind saying to you, Force, she's my favourite. +It's a dreadful thing to say, but I'd rather lose any one of them--or +all of them--than to lose Kathie. I love her with all my heart." + +Flanders was shaking hands with the small boys, Mrs. Bingle looking on +with placid approval. + +"What's your name, my little man?" + +"Abraham." + +"Ahem!" coughed Mrs. Bingle, with a violent start. + +"Reginald, sir," gasped he whose memory was still faithful when under +the pressure of excitement. + +"I see," said Flanders, smiling down into Mrs. Bingle's embarrassed +eyes. "Lapsus linguae, Mrs. Bingle." + +"My French is very--" began Mrs. Bingle plaintively. + +"Do you like Santa Claus, Reginald?" interrupted Flanders. + +"I like him better'n I do Dickens," confessed Reginald with +considerable positiveness. "Say, what's your name?" + +"My name is Dick." + +"Gee! Deadwood Dick, the road-agent? The feller Melissa is always +telling us about? Hey, kids, here's--" + +"Sh!" hissed Flanders, clapping his hand over Master Reginald's mouth. +"Never mind that!" + +"Did I understand Mr. Bingle to say, Mr. Flinders, that you report for +the Banner?" It was Mrs. Force who spoke. She was inspecting the young +man through a bejewelled lorgnette, held at an angle which was meant +to establish beyond dispute the fact that she was looking down upon +him from a superior height. She was a tall woman and she had been +married to Mr. Force for twelve long years. Looking down on him had +become such a habit that it was quite impossible for her to look up to +any one of his sex. + +"Yes, Mrs. Force, the Banner." + +"Can you tell me who put that disgusting item in the paper about my +little gathering last week?" She regarded him with severity. + +"Gathering? Oh, I daresay it was one of the hospital reporters, Mrs. +Force," said Flanders suavely. She spent the rest of the evening in +cogitation. + +Three words describe Mrs. Force. She detested children. + +Joe, the coachman, and Watson were waiting for an opportunity to speak +to Mr. Bingle. They appeared to be crowding each other. + +"I beg pardon, Mr. Bingle," began Joe, hurriedly, as the master turned +in response to Watson's cough. + +"What is it, Joseph?" + +Watson succeeded in speaking first. "If you please, sir, my +grandmother is dying in the city. I've just been sent for, sir. I +think it is possible for me to catch the eight-forty--" + +"I beg pardon, sir," broke in Joe. "I've just heard that my sister is +expecting a baby to-night, and I thought I'd speak to you about +getting off--" + +"Just a moment," said Mr. Bingle, blinking rapidly. "Wasn't your +grandmother dying last Christmas Eve, Watson?" + +"No, sir. It was Hughes's grandmother." + +"Did she die?" + +"She did, sir," said Watson, with a pleased smile. "Hughes can attend +to my--" + +"And your sister, Joe: didn't you get off last month for three days to +attend her wedding? Your only sister, I think you said." + +"Yes, sir. Poor girl," said the coachman, without shame or conscience. + +Mr. Bingle looked hard at the two men. They coloured. "Very well. You +may go, both of you, but don't let it happen again. I am sorry that +you will not be here to receive your Christmas presents. I shall +distribute the envelopes to-night. By the way, the grandmother season +ends about the middle of October, Watson. Good night, and--a Merry +Christmas to both of you." + +"Beg pardon, sir," stammered Watson, sheepishly. "I'm ashamed of +myself, sir. It shan't 'appen again, not so long as I'm in your +service." The coachman shuffled his left foot uneasily and appeared to +find something of great interest in the rug on which he was standing. +At any rate, he scrutinised it very intently. Mr. Bingle smiled as he +turned away. + +Miss Fairweather suddenly leaned over and whispered into the ear of +young Wilberforce. He paid no attention to her, so she shook him +gently by the arm. A moment later, obeying an unspoken command, he +sheepishly removed two large wads of cotton from his ears. + +"Don't you want to hear about Old Scrooge and Tiny Tim?" she +whispered. + +"I wish I'd thought of doing that," lamented Mr. Force audibly. He had +witnessed the little incident. + +"I'd sooner hear about Melissa's pirates and sea-cooks," whispered +Wilberforce shrilly. + +"Order, please!" commanded Mr. Bingle, taking his place at the +reading-table. "Please be seated, Mr. Force. Hi! Look out! Not on top +of Rosemary." + +"Good heavens! I might have squashed her--or him. What are you? A boy +or a girl?" + +"I'm a woming," piped up Rosemary from the depths of the biggest chair +in the room. + +Mr. Bingle cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. Then he +benignly surveyed the audience. The row of servants bobbed their heads +and shifted from one foot to the other. + +"Friends all," began the master, "I give you greeting. On this glad +evening no line is drawn between master and man, no--What is it, +Delia?" + +The cook had stepped forward. "Excuse me for interruptin', sor, but +for sivin years I've stud through the Christmas Carol, from ind to +ind, and I'm sivin years older than whin I began. I'm no longer young +and hearty. I'm--" + +"Well, why do you hesitate? Go on. Do you mean to say you don't want +to hear it again?" + +"God knows, sor, I'm willing to give up wan evenin' to society. We all +are, for that matter. But it takes an hour an' a half to read the +blissed story. If we could only sit down during the recital, sor, it-- +it wouldn't be so bad. But as it is, sor, we have to stand and only +our legs and feet can go to sleep. If--" + +"I see!" cried Mr. Bingle. "You put me to shame, Delia. I never +thought of it in that light. You must have chairs. We will delay the +reading while you go to the dining-room and--" + +"It's all right, sor. We've got the dining-room chairs in the hall. It +was me as thought of thim, sor. Go wan wid yez now, lads, and rush +thim in." + +Mrs. Bingle took advantage of this unusual delay--or respite--and +explained to Mrs. Force that she would never go back to Madame Marie +for another gown. All one had to do was to look at the dress she was +wearing to-night for the first time. "It has just come and it cost-- +well, you know what a gown like that would cost at Marie's! And just +look at it!" Mrs. Force did look at it--commiseratingly--and said she +would be pleased to take Mrs. Bingle in to see her dressmaker, and so +on and so forth. Mrs. Bingle expressed some doubt as to any modiste's +ability to make her look like Mrs. Force and Mrs. Force pooh-poohed +graciously. + +Mr. Force bit off the end of a cigar and glumly watched the revivified +servants arranging the chairs. Occasionally he sent a puzzled glance +at little Kathleen. + +Mr. Bingle rubbed his spectacles, while Mr. Flanders confined his +attention solely to the slim, graceful head and neck of the new +governess. He wore the look of one who has much to do to contain +himself in patience. As for Miss Fairweather, a warm glow had settled +upon her fair cheek and her eyes were bright. + +"I always cry when any one reads aloud about Tiny Tim," she said to +Mr. Force, who, for obvious reasons, failed to hear her above the +chattering of the children. But Flanders heard. + +"Tiny Tim always makes me cry too," he said, very distinctly. He was +rewarded by a slightly increased colour in the young lady's cheek. + +"I cry my eyes out over Tiny Tim," Miss Quinlan was saying to Miss +Stokes, and at the same instant Miss Brown was telling Miss Wright +that Tiny Tim was always good for a bucketful, so far as she was +concerned. + +Imogene was sound asleep, and there were faint sobs in her breathing. + +"Before we begin, Swanson," said Mr. Bingle, addressing the furnace- +man, "you might put a couple of fresh Yule logs on the fire. Pick out +good, big ones while you're about it." + +"Will dose har fance-post do, Mast' Bingle?" whispered Swanson +hoarsely, as he held up a chunk of firewood for approval. + +The fire was crackling merrily by the time the servants were seated +and Diggs had turned out the ceiling and wall lights from the switch, +leaving the big room in semi-darkness. The blazing logs sent a bright, +nickering glow into the faces of Mr. Bingle's auditors. He bowed +gravely and took up the cherished well-worn book. + +"My dear friends, we have once more reached a milestone in the march +of Christendom. As you know, children, it comes but once a year, like +New Year's and Fourth of July." + +"Hear! Hear!" volunteered three or four of the men-servants +diffidently. + +"We are all servants of the Lord whose anniversary we celebrate. We +gather here about a warm fireside, with the historic yule log blazing-- +er--figuratively speaking, of course. These logs, naturally, are not +historic. They--er--ahem! Ahem!" He floundered. "Still, we gather +about them, just the same, warm and snug and full of good cheer. +Outside, the night is cold and blustery. The wind howls around the--" + +The door-bell jangled in the distance. Mr. Bingle hesitated for an +instant and then went on: + +"Howls around the corners with the fury of the wintry--ahem!--blast. +And it snows. 'It snows, cries the schoolboy!' You remember the +verses, children. You--See who's there, Diggs. Perhaps it is some +neighbour come to wish us--and, Diggs, no matter who it is, ask him-- +or them--to come right in here. I'll--I'll wait a few minutes. Hurry +along, please." Resuming his address he beamed upon the row of +wriggling children. "We have before us eleven little ladies and +gentlemen, all eager for the Christmas dawn. See the stockings? To- +morrow morning you will find that Santy has filled them to the top. +Next year Santy will come provided with gifts for twelve, an even +dozen. How many are eleven and one, Reginald? Speak up. Eleven and +one. Good! That's right, my lad. The year after he will bring gifts +for fourteen. We shall avoid the unlucky number thirteen. Remember, +children, that next Christmas you are to have a little brother. You--" + +"I want a sister," shouted Wilberforce. + +"Sh!" said four nurses at once. + +"As for you, my faithful servitors, it will not be necessary for you +to hang up your little stockings. Santy will find a way to--What is +it, Diggs?" + +"If you please, sir, may I speak with you for a moment?" said Diggs +mysteriously, from the doorway. He appeared to be under the strain of +a not inconsiderable excitement. + +Mr. Bingle hesitated. "If it's your grandmother who is ill, Diggs, I'm +afraid--" + +"It's a man, sir, who says he must see you at once," said Diggs, +lowering his voice and sending a cautious glance over his shoulder. + +"If he is seeking food or shelter, do not turn him away. Give freely +from my purse and larder. It is Christmas Eve. We--" + +"I'll step out and see him, Bingle," volunteered Mr. Force, with some +alacrity. "Go ahead with the reading." + +"He says he must see you, Mr. Bingle," said Diggs. "He isn't after +halms, sir." + +"Ask him to come in and hear the story. I've no doubt he would be +benefitted--" + +"Go and see what he wants, Thomas," said Mrs. Bingle. "It may be +important. I am sure Mr. and Mrs. Force will not mind the delay. Will +you?" + +"Not at all," said Mrs. Force resignedly. + +"I shan't mind, if the rest don't," added Mr. Force, turning an ironic +eye upon the row of servants. + +"Well, I'll just step out and see what it's all about," said Mr. +Bingle reluctantly. + +"Better see that the chap isn't a bomb-thrower, come to demand money +of you, Bingle," said Force. Mr. Bingle waved his hand airily as he +threaded his way among the chairs. "Does he look like a black-hander, +Diggs?" + +"No, sir," replied Diggs. Then he let the truth slip out. "He says he +is from a detective agency, but I couldn't catch the name of it." + +Mr. Bingle halted. "Detective agency, Diggs?" + +"So he said, sir." + +Flanders arose. "Perhaps you'd like to have me go with you, Mr. +Bingle. I know most of these fellows. If I can be of any assistance--" + +"Thank you, no," said Mr. Bingle nervously. I--I think I'd better see +him alone. Now, Mary, don't look frightened. I haven't the remotest +idea what he wants, but as I haven't been up to anything--ahem! Keep +your seat, Frederick!" + +"I want to see a detective," pleaded Frederick. "Is he disguised, +Diggs? Has he got on false whiskers? Please, daddy--" + +"Maybe it's old Santy," cried Wilberforce in a voice that thrilled. + +Mr. Bingle left a pleasant atmosphere of excitement behind him when he +disappeared between the portieres. At once the company broke into +eager, speculative whispers that soon grew to a perfect storm of +shrill inquiry. Every one was guessing, and every one was guessing as +loudly as possible in order to be heard above the clamour. It might +have been observed that at least three or four of the servants shot +furtive glances in the direction of the hall, and appeared to be +anxious and uncomfortable. + +While the excitement was at its height, Flanders deliberately planted +himself at Miss Fairweather's elbow. She looked up into his face. +Every vestige of colour had left her own. Her eyes were wide with +alarm. + +"Come with me, Amy," he said in a low tone. "I must have a word with +you. Make believe that you are showing me the--the pictures. We can +talk safely in that corner over there." + +She arose without a word and followed him to a far corner of the room, +where they would be quite free from interruption. + +"Oh, Dick!" she murmured, in great distress. + +"Do you know anything? Who is this detective? Has he come to--" + +"Sh! Why, you're actually shivering! Here, sit down in the window +seat--behind the curtain, dearest. What have you to be afraid of? +You've done no wrong." + +She sank down on the window seat. The thick lace curtain shielded her +agitated face from the view of all inquiring eyes save those of the +tall, eager young man who sat down beside her. + +"They don't know that I was on the stage, Dick. They wouldn't have me +here if they knew that I've been an actress. I--Oh, I hope--" + +"Brace up, darling! This detective isn't interested in you. What +motive could he have in looking you up? Bingle is in the dark, so it's +evident he hasn't hired any one to investigate your past. Forget it! +That isn't what I want to talk to you about. I've been half-crazy, +dear, for the past eight months. Why did you run away without giving +me a chance to square myself after that miserable night? Don't get up! +I've found you and I'm determined to have it out with you, Amy. You've +just got to hear what I have to say." His hand was upon her arm, a +firm restraining grasp that checked her attempt to escape. Undismayed +by the look of scorn that leaped into her eyes, he leaned closer and +spoke in quick agitated whispers. + +Fully half an hour elapsed before Mr. Bingle returned to the room. His +face was noticeably grey and pinched, and all of the ebullience of +spirit had disappeared. His wife eyed him anxiously, apprehensively. +Slowly, almost with an effort, he made his way to the reading-table, +purposely avoiding the gaze of the inquiring assemblage. His hand +shook perceptibly as he took up the book and cleared his throat--this +time feebly and without the usual authority, it might have been +observed. + +"Anything wrong, Bingle?" inquired Force, regarding him curiously. + +"Nothing, nothing at all," said Mr. Bingle, vainly affecting a smile +that was meant to put every one at ease. "No crime has been committed, +so don't be nervous, any of you. Just a little private matter of--of" +--His gaze went swiftly to the eager, uplifted face of little Kathleen, +and he never completed the sentence. As he turned his face away, +ostensibly to find his place in the book, his lower lip trembled, and +a mist came over his eyes. + +The dramatic enthusiasm with which he was wont to read the Dickens +story was sadly lacking. He read lifelessly, uncertainly, and at times +almost inaudibly. There was a queer huskiness in his voice that made +it necessary for him to clear his throat frequently. + +[Illustration with caption: Amy Fairweather and Flanders] + +Under ordinary conditions, he would have observed the singular +aloofness of Miss Fairweather and the reporter who was there by virtue +of an assignment. They retained their somewhat sequestered position in +the window seat, effectually screened by the curtains, and whispered +softly to each other, utterly oblivious to the monotonous drone of the +reader, quite in a little world of their own. + +Flanders was pleading earnestly with the rigid-faced girl. Her +cautious, infrequent responses were not of an encouraging nature, that +was plain to be seen, but he too was obdurate. He held one of her slim +hands in a grip that could not be broken, as she had discovered to her +dismay. Mr. Bingle read on, ignorant of the little drama that went on +under his very nose, so to speak, and those of his auditors who were +not nodding their heads in frank drowsiness, were so completely +wrapped up in extraneous thoughts concerning the visit of the +detective that they had eyes for no one except the person who could +explain the mystery. + +Mr. Bingle's voice began to quaver much earlier in the story than +usual. He was always moved to tears, but as a rule he was able to +suppress them until along toward the end of the story. But now he was +in distress from the beginning. He choked up completely, in a most +uncalled-for manner and at singularly unexpected places. He managed to +struggle through the first twenty or thirty pages, and then, seeing +for himself that he was nearing the first of the weepy places and +realising that he was sure to burst into tears if he continued, he +deliberately closed the book, keeping his forefinger between the +leaves, and announced in a strained voice that he would skip over to +the final chapter if the audience did not object. He gave no excuse. +It is doubtful, however, if he was gratified by the profound sigh of +relief that went up from the group of listeners. + +At last, he came to the end of the story. He had no voice at all for +the concluding paragraphs: a hoarse, grotesque whisper, that was all. +When the servants had departed and the children were scampering off to +bed, thrilled by promises of the morrow, Mr. Single's arm stole about +his wife's shoulders and she was drawn suddenly, even violently close +to his side. He avoided her puzzled, worried gaze and resolutely +addressed himself to Mr. and Mrs. Force and Mr. Flanders. Miss +Fairweather had disappeared. + +"That man was a detective," said he, without preamble. "His agency was +employed nearly a year ago to discover the whereabouts of a certain +child, whose father, repenting a wrong perpetrated years ago, desires +to do the right thing by his luckless offspring. After all these +months, this detective has located the little girl. She is in this +house. She is my favourite--and yours, Mary, God help us." + +"Kathleen?" whispered Mrs. Bingle dully. + +"Kathleen?" repeated Sydney Force, staring blankly at the little man. + +"Yes," said Mr. Bingle, and sat down suddenly in a big arm chair, +burying his face in his hands. + +No one spoke for many minutes. Flanders had the grace to turn away +from the group. He was an unusual type of newspaper reporter. Here was +something that would make a splendid "story," and yet he was fine +enough to turn his back upon the opportunity that lay open to him. + +Mr. Force's hands were gripping the back of a chair so rigidly that +the knuckles were white and gleaming. + +"For a year, did you say, Bingle?" he questioned, steadying his voice +with an effort. + +"Almost a year," gulped the little man, looking up through streaming +eyes. "Her mother died when Kathie was about a year old. The father +never saw his child. He had deceived the woman. He cast her off and-- +married another, I take it, although I am a bit hazy. I was so upset +that I--I scarcely remember what the man said. Now the--the father +wants to find his child. He--he wants to give her a home--Oh, Lordy, +Lordy! I can't bear the thought of it. Sh! Don't cry, Mary. Maybe +he'll let us keep her. He is married. Perhaps he can't afford to +acknowledge her as his child under the circumstances. I--I put it up +to the detective. He actually grinned in my face and said he was quite +positive his client would be as sensible as most men have to be in +similar straits." + +"Are you sure that Kathleen is the one he is looking for, Mr. Bingle?" +inquired Mrs. Force. "They sometimes follow false clues, or something +of the sort. I once heard of a detective who--" + +"No such luck," groaned Mr. Bingle. "He has Kathie's history from the +day she was born. There--there isn't any chance for a mistake. She is +the one. Our eldest, our loveliest--Oh, Mary!" + +Force shot an unmistakable look of alarm at the newspaper man who +stood in the doorway, staring out into the hall. + +"Do you know the mother's name, Bingle?" he inquired. His voice +sounded so strange and unnatural that his wife glanced at him sharply. + +"Yes. I know her real name. On the records at the hospital she was +known as Mrs. Hinman. But, you see, she wasn't married. Her name was +Glenn." + +Sydney Force's face was bloodless. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK + + +The affairs of Amy Fairweather and Richard Flanders require +explanation. When two good-looking young people meet as these two met, +and betray such surprising emotion, it goes without saying that at +least one episode in their joint history deserves the undivided +attention of the onlooker, who, in this case, happens to be you, kind +reader. It must be perfectly clear to you that Miss Fairweather and +Mr. Flanders were, at one time in their lives, more than moderately +interested in each other. That part of their story does not require +elucidation. Indeed, only an intelligence of the most extraordinary +denseness would demand the bald, matter-of-fact declaration that they +had been in love with each other. What we are concerned about, +therefore, is an episode of the early spring in the present year of +our story. + +It is quite simple, after all. We have only to go back a year to get +to the bottom of the matter. Miss Fairweather and Mr. Flanders were +fellow lodgers in a boarding-house not far removed from Times Square. +She was playing a small part in one of the Broadway theatres and was +known on the programme as Amy Colgate, the customary sop to "family +feelings" causing her to abandon her own name during the neophytic +period of her career. This was a temporary concession, however; she +intended to make the family name famous as soon as she got a "part" +that would give her a real chance. Flanders was on the newspaper, but +his aspirations were quite as lofty as any one's: he was writing a +play. He had already written two novels, both of which remained +unpublished. + +At the outset, his play was intended for Miss Barrymore, but after the +second week of his acquaintance with the attractive Miss Colgate his +ambitions proved fickle: he discarded Miss Barrymore and substituted +Miss Colgate for the star part in the piece. Fortunately he had +written but six or eight pages of the first act, so the transfer was +not a deleterious undertaking. He could see no one else in the part; +he could think of no one else as he dreamed of the play's success. +Moreover, Miss Colgate was as pleased as Punch over this flattering +tribute to her magnetism--for the part, as described, was one that +would not "get over" unless created by an actress of pronounced +magnetic appeal--and lost no time in falling deeply in love with the +manly playwright. They were serious-minded, ambitious young people. It +is of small consequence that he was an untried, unskilled dramatist, +and of equally small moment that she was little more than an amateur. +They saw a bright light ahead and trudged steadily toward it, prodding +themselves--and each other--with all the vain-glorious artifices known +to and employed by the young and undefeated. The young man's dramatic +aspirations were somewhat retarded, however, by the fact that he was +so desperately enamoured that he couldn't confine his thoughts to the +play; so the growth of the first act was slow and tortuous. Under +other conditions he would have despaired of ever completing the thing. +As it was, his despair was of an entirely different character and had +to do with the belief that Miss Colgate loved some one else instead of +him. + +But even doubt and uncertainty possess virtue in that they often lead +to rashness, sometimes folly. In this case, Mr. Flanders proposed +marriage, albeit he couldn't, for the life of him, see how he was +going to manage on a salary of twenty-five dollars a week. That was +the rashness of it. Miss Colgate attended to the folly. She said she +would marry him if it meant starvation. So there you are. + +After that, ambition revived and worked smoothly, rapidly. In the +middle of the second act, however, the play failed--that is to say, +the play in which Miss Colgate was appearing on Broadway. (It failed +in the middle of Mr. Flanders' second act, lest I appear ambiguous.) +The young actress found herself out of employment and without much +prospect of getting an engagement at that season of the year--a bad +year it was, too, if you will remember what theatrical people had to +say about it. Now, she was not obliged to work for a living. She could +have gone back to her family in Connecticut. But she was not made of +that sort of stuff. She could have gone back home and married the most +desirable young or old man in the town. She could have given up the +stage and devoted herself to the teaching of music, French or wood- +carving, in which pursuits she was far less of an amateur than at +play-acting. But she was a valiant, undaunted little warrior. She +announced that she was ready to do anything that offered, even chorus- +work. + +And one evening she told him that she had found a place in the chorus +of a "road show." She tried to hide her mortification under a somewhat +quivering jauntiness, but Mr. Flanders went rudely to the bottom of +the matter. She argued that she could change her name and no one would +be the wiser. She would positively refuse to appear in tights. Then +came the episode. Mr. Flanders flew into a scornful rage. He said a +great many things that he was afterwards ashamed to recall. Among +other things, he said he'd be hanged if he'd marry a chorus-girl; as +for tights, she wouldn't have any choice in the matter, once the +manager set his mind to it. She had not been in love with him long +enough to submit to bullying, so she sent him about his business. +Moreover, she coldly informed him that their engagement was over and +that she never wanted to see his face again. + +Inasmuch as it would be quite impossible to remain in the same +boarding-house without seeing his face once in a while, she moved out +the very next day. + +The "road" was not what she had expected, nor was the life of a +chorus-girl as simple as it had seemed from her virtuous point of +view. Before the first two weeks were over, she deserted the company, +disillusioned, mortified. It HAD come to a matter of tights. + +She returned to New York and bravely resumed her visits to managerial +offices and to the lairs of agents, in quest of an engagement not +quite so incompatible with her sense of delicacy and refinement as the +one she had just abandoned. But there was nothing to be had. More than +once she was tempted to write to Flanders, begging him to forgive her +and to forget, if he could, the silly mistake she had made. But love +and loneliness were no match for the pride that was a part of her +nature. She resolutely put away the temptation to do the perfectly +sensible thing, and, woman-like, fortified herself against surrender +by running away from danger. + +She had heard of the Bingles through a woman playwright who wanted to +dramatize the Bingle enterprise. Nothing, said this enthusiastic +person, could be more adorable than a play based on the Bingle methods +of acquiring a family. + +One day, in Central Park, she saw Mr. Bingle and seven of the +children. He looked happy but inadequate. A grinning park policeman +enlightened her as to the identity of the bewildered little man. A +single glance was all that was necessary to convince her that Mr. +Bingle was having his hands full. + +He had lost all control of the little ruffians. (The park policeman +was the first to call them ruffians, so I may be pardoned.) They +insisted on playing games that Mr. Bingle couldn't play, and he was +beginning to look worried. Time and again he tried to herd them into +the big station 'bus in which he had brought them over from Seafood +(the Bingle estate), and always with so little success that he was +getting hot and tired--and farther away from the conveyance all the +time. Still he smiled cheerfully and gave no sign of losing his +temper. + +They were frolicking in the neighbourhood of the lake at the north end +of the park, and Miss Colgate was sitting on one of the benches not +far removed from the scene of activity. She began to feel sorry for +the little foster-father. He was having a time of it! The first thing +he knew, one of the little insurgents would tumble into the lake and-- +well, she couldn't imagine anything more droll than Mr. Bingle +venturing into the water as a rescuer. At last, moved by an impulse +that afterwards took its place as the psychic capstone in her career, +she arose and resolutely went to his relief. He was panting and +perspiring, for the spring day was warm. + +"May I help you to gather them up?" she inquired. + +Now, Mr. Bingle was not accustomed to seeing girls as pretty as the +one who accosted him so amiably. At first, he said no, he was very +much obliged, he guessed he could manage 'em, thank you. He wasn't +quite sure that it was right for him to "take up" with a strange and +beautiful young woman in a public park. One never could tell about +these well-dressed women who sit on park benches, and yet appear to be +perfectly free from tuberculosis. But Miss Colgate insisted, and Mr. +Bingle, taking a second look at her, said he would be grateful if +she'd stay and watch the littlest ones while he rounded up the big +ones. She shook her head, smiling, and gently ordered him to sit down +and cool off a bit while she gathered in the recalcitrants. + +"You look so hot and tired," she said, and her smile was so frankly +sympathetic, so commanding in its sweetness, that Mr. Bingle promptly +sat down and said that it beat all how hot the weather was for early +May. Perhaps they WOULD come for her, he went on shyly; if she didn't +mind calling Frederick, that would be sufficient. Frederick was the +rebel leader. He ought to be spanked. She smiled again, and Mr. Bingle +said to himself that he'd never seen anything so nice. As she walked +away, bent on rounding-up the three boys and Kathleen, he was +impressed by the slim, graceful figure and the manner in which she +carried herself. Nothing ordinary or common about THAT girl, said he; +nothing bold or immodest. Out of the goodness of her heart she had +proffered assistance, as any gently born person would have done. His +heart warmed toward her. It wasn't often that one encountered a pretty +girl who was considerate, sweet-natured and polite to her elders, +especially in New York City. He almost forgot Henrietta and Guinevere +in his contemplation of this extraordinary phenomenon. Indeed, +Henrietta's blubberings went quite unnoticed for some little time, and +it was not until Guinevere sent up a sympathetic howl that he +remembered the "littlest ones" and hastily took them upon his knees, +dropping his hat in his haste. + +He was considerably amazed by the swiftness with which his ally +"rounded-up" the five roisterers. She went about it sweetly, even +gaily, yet with a certain authority that had an instant effect on the +youngsters. Almost before he knew what had happened, she was +approaching him with the flushed, mischievous "kiddies" in tow. They +were staring at the strange, beautiful young lady with wide-open, +fascinated eyes. They were abashed, puzzled; meek with wonder. When +she extended her hands to Kathleen and Marie Louise, they came to her +shyly and then, without so much as a glance at the three boys, she +calmly led them back to the marvelling little millionaire. It was a +crafty way of bringing the boys, to time. Their curiosity, cupidity, +envy--what you will--brought them scurrying up to the group, and not a +face was missing from the ranks when she stopped before Mr. Bingle and +said: + +"And now that we have them, bound hand and foot, what are we to do +with them? Put them in a dungeon and feed them on bread and water?" + +"I don't see how you did it," said Mr. Bingle. "It was really quite +wonderful. Perhaps it was because you are so very pretty. I think, if +you don't object, I'll put 'em in the 'bus, take 'em home and feed +them on milk and honey and jam. Thank you, thank you ever so much." + +"I love children and I believe that children like me," said she, her +fingers gently caressing Kathleen's brown, tumbled locks. "That +explains it, I am sure. Now, boys, run on ahead and tell the chauffeur +your father is coming. And, listen to me: your father is tired and +very, very warm. You must not cause him any more distress. I am sure +you won't, will you?" + +Then she wiped the tears from the cheeks of the "littlest ones," +straightened their bonnets, and, in the end, proposed that she should +carry one of them to the 'bus. + +Down in her heart, she was coddling the wild, improbable hope that Mr. +Richard Flanders might be somewhere in the neighbourhood, watching her +with proud, but remorseful eyes! + +Mr. Bingle turned to her after the children were safely stowed away in +the 'bus and ready for the long ride home. He had his hat in his hand +and he bowed very low, with the old-fashioned courtesy that time and +environment had failed to modify. + +"My dear young lady, you remind me of the fairy princess that I knew +so well as a boy. You spring up out of the ground and--Whist! you +perform deeds of magic and enchantment. I am sorry that we cannot have +you hovering about us forevermore. We are all enchanted." + +"Thank you," she said, with her gay smile. "Do you still believe in +fairies?" + +"I do," said he. + +"And witches?" + +"Absolutely," said he, with boyish enthusiasm. "And wizards, too--and, +I'm ashamed to admit it--ghosts. Good-bye. Thank you for the spell +you've cast upon us. I think it has done all of us a lot of good. I +undertook a task that was beyond me, bringing these youngsters here +for a lark. But you see, I had promised them the trip, and I don't +believe in going back on a promise. The governess left us yesterday, +most unexpectedly. She said her sister was ill, but--well, I shouldn't +say anything unkind. Perhaps her sister really is ill. So, then, I +brought them all by myself. Mrs. Bingle is in the city looking for a +new governess. She--" + +"Would you consider--" began Miss Colgate eagerly, and then flushed to +the roots of her hair, What had come over her? Was she on the point of +applying for a position as governess in a family of--But why not? Why +not? She was tired, discouraged, and a failure at the work she had +tried so hard to perform. + +"Yes?" + +She laughed confusedly. "It was nothing, Mr. Bingle, nothing at all. +Good-bye. I hope you'll get them home safe, sound and--intact. They +are dears." + +Mr. Bingle surveyed his brood. Every eye was riveted on the face of +the strange, lovely lady, and in each was the look of complete +subjugation. + +"You've hypnotised them," said he, wonderingly. + +She looked away. After a moment's hesitation, she cast the die--urged +by the queerest impulse that had ever come over her. + +"Would you consider me, Mr. Bingle, for the position that has just +been given up by the--the woman whose sister is ill?" + +He heard, but he could not believe his ears. "I--I beg pardon?" he +said. + +She faced him, now resolute and eager. "I am not a fairy princess, I +am not a witch. As a matter of fact, I am a very commonplace person +who is obliged to earn a living one way or another, and it isn't +always a simple thing to do. Tip to this instant, I hadn't the +remotest thought of becoming a governess. I don't know what came over +me unless it was loneliness, thinking of my little brothers and +sisters at home. When I first saw you and the children nothing was +farther from my mind than the thought that has just come into it. I DO +love children. I want work, Mr. Bingle. I am self-supporting. No +matter what may have been my ambition up to five minutes ago, I am +content to put it aside, I am willing to undertake--" + +"My dear young lady," broke in Mr. Bingle, who had been slow to grasp +her meaning and even slower to recover from his stupefaction; "you-- +you really have knocked me silly. I hadn't the faintest idea--" + +"May I apply to Mrs. Bingle to-morrow?" she asked nervously, +interrupting him with unintentional rudeness. "I have no references to +give as a governess, but I--I think I can convince Mrs. Bingle that I +would be quite capable. Do you think there would be a chance for me if +I--" + +Mr. Bingle broke in once more, this time with acute enthusiasm. "Don't +wait till to-morrow," he exclaimed. "Do it to-day! To-morrow may be +too late. Harkins, drive to the nearest public telephone. We will call +up the intelligence office and see if Mrs. Bingle has been there yet. +If she hasn't--" + +"Is she looking for a governess in an intelligence office?" cried Miss +Colgate, in dismay. + +"Certainly! Where else? Oh, I see," he made haste to add, sensing her +expression; "it isn't the place to find high-grade governesses, eh? +Well, all the better for us! We'll head her off. Climb in, Miss--Miss--" + +"Fairweather, Mr. Bingle," said she, and it was the first time in two +years that she had called herself by that name. Of all the millions of +human beings in New York, but one knew that her name was Fairweather-- +and she had quarrelled with him. She had told Dick Flanders. He was +the kind of man that women tell things to without reserve or without +considering the consequences. + +"Move up, Frederick," commanded Mr. Bingle. "Make room for Miss +Fairweather. She's going to be the new governess. Lively, Harkins! The +nearest telephone. No! Not that saloon over there. Tackle an apartment +house. Well, well, Miss Fairweather, this is just like a fairy story +after all. I told you that I believed in fairies, didn't I?" + +And that is how Miss Fairweather came to be governess in the Bingle +family, a position for which she was suited by nature but for which +she was utterly unqualified when it came to experience. And that is +how she managed to disappear so completely that Richard Flanders, +love-sick and repentant, could find no trace of her. There were days-- +and long, long nights--when she ate her heart out in the hunger for +him, but she could not bring herself to the point where starvation +made it imperative for her to go begging. There was always before her +the distressing fear that he might have ceased, to care for her--ay, +that he might have gone so far as to transfer his affections to some +one else as the result of her stupid notions concerning independence. + +No doubt he was going his way without a thought of her, pleasantly +forgetting her or, at best, merely remembering her as one who had +proved a brief but satisfactory blessing, as many a passing sweetheart +has been to a man in his flight through time. No, she argued in +conflict with her inclinations, it was not to be thought of, this +senseless desire to go back and begin all over again. Everything was +over between them. She had made her choice on that never-to-be- +forgotten night and she had gone out of his life. There was no use +bewailing the fact that she was in the wrong and that his contentions +had been justified. She had made her bed, and she would lie in it. The +fault was with her, not with him--and yet she could never quite +forgive him for being right! She couldn't forget how angry she was +before she realised that his judgment was better than hers. As a +matter of fact, she couldn't help being a perfectly normal woman: she +enjoyed misery. + +It must be recorded that she imposed upon the Bingles in one respect: +she did not mention the fact that she was or had been an actress. On +the other hand, she did not deceive them as to her lack of experience +as a teacher of young children. She confessed that the work was new to +her, but she confessed it so naively, so frankly, that they were +charmed into overlooking the most important detail in the matter of +engaging a governess. In fact, Mr. Bingle very properly said to his +wife that as she was expected to devote her time to children who had +no pedigree, "it wouldn't be along the line of common sense to exact +references from her." Besides, said he, she was so sure to be +satisfactory. It was only necessary to look into her honest eyes to +feel sure about that. And Mrs. Bingle, who was just then in the throes +of adopting Imogene, agreed to everything that Imogene's prospective +father had to say. + +In the meantime, Mr. Flanders had remained doggedly constant. He had +surrendered, as a man will, to reason, and had set about to find the +girl of his choice, determined to make his peace with her. But nowhere +was she to be found. He laid aside the unfinished play. What was the +sense of writing a play if there was no one to play the principal +part? He was disconsolate. He cursed himself for the stupid thing he +had done. He had wrecked his life, that's what he had done--poor fool! + +And then came the unexpected meeting in the home of Thomas Singleton +Bingle, and the detached scene in the shelter of the window-nook. + +Mr. Bingle experienced a second shock just before Flanders darted out +of the house to jump into the waiting automobile which was to take him +to the station for the 10:17 train. + +"Well, good night, Mr. Bingle," cried the tall young reporter, +sticking his head through the library door in response to the host's +invitation to "come in." "Thank you for the greatest evening of my +life. It's just like a fairy story. Oh, yes, before I forget it: I +want to tell you how much I enjoyed 'The Chimes.' I never knew that +Dickens could write anything so--" + +"'The Chimes'?" cried Mr. Bingle, abruptly leaving the little group at +the fireplace and bearing down upon the unconscious offender. "What do +you mean? It wasn't 'The Chimes' that I--" + +"Certainly not," exclaimed Mr. Flanders, glibly. "Of course, it +wasn't. I never think of 'The Christmas Carol' without first thinking +of 'The Chimes.' Thank you for getting the automobile out to take me +to--" + +"No trouble at all, my dear fellow," cried Mr. Bingle, shaking hands +with the departing guest. "I wish you a Merry Christmas." + +Flanders' face was glowing. "It will be the merriest Christmas I've +ever known, Mr. Bingle," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "I owe +it to you, too. By Jove, sir, I believe I am the happiest man in all +the world." He almost shook the little man's arm out of its socket. + +Mr. Bingle's smile was meant to be beaming. He made a valiant effort +to rise above the catastrophe that was to make his Christmas the most +miserable he had ever known. + +"Come to see us every Christmas Eve, my boy, if it puts you in such +good spirits to see the--the kiddies--" his voice quavered a little-- +"and to hear the 'Carol.' You will always find the latchstring out." + +"No other Christmas Eve will be as glorious as this one, sir," said +Dick, gently dragging his host into the hall and lowering his voice to +a thrilling undertone. "Not in a million years. Why, it is positively +bewildering. I wonder if I'm awake. Is it really true? I--I can't +believe that it really happened. Take a good, long look at me, please. +You DO see me, don't you? I am really standing here in your house--" + +"What in the world are you talking about?" gasped Mr. Bingle, drawing +back a step or two. Mr. Flanders grabbed him by the arm. "Ouch!" + +"I beg pardon, sir--I didn't mean to be rough," cried Flanders. "I'm +so excited I don't know what I'm doing, that's all. A man may be +excused for a lot of brainstorm antics when he's going to be married +again. It--" + +"Married again? I thought you said you'd never--" + +"What I mean is this: I was going to be married once and now I'm going +to be married again. See? Oh, you know what I mean. I'm just +driveling--simply driveling with joy. We fixed it all up fifteen +minutes after we got together. You might congratulate me, Mr. Bingle." + +"God bless my soul! Congratulate you on what?" + +"I'm going to marry your governess." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE MAN CALLED HINMAN + + +Bright and early on Christmas morning, Mr. Sydney Force walked slowly, +even irresolutely up the broad avenue leading to Mr. Bingle's +stupendous door-step. The snow had been cleared off of the narrow +footpath, but the president of the great city bank was so deeply +engrossed that he failed to take advantage of this singular +demonstration of worthiness on the part of Edgecomb and his assistants +so soon after the break of dawn. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten +that it was Christmas morning. He walked in the middle of the roadway, +in four inches of snow, and kept his gaze fixed rather intently on the +big house at the top of the avenue. + +Mr. Force had not slept well. Indeed, he had not slept at all. The +shock he had received early in the evening was of the kind that +shatters one's peace of mind to a degree but little short of +calamitous. A plunge into ice-cold water would have failed to produce +the deadly chill that crept over him when he heard the name of Glenn. +How he succeeded in controlling himself so well that his profound +agitation escaped the attention of the others, he could not explain. +He was amazed to find that he had managed it so well. For, it must be +confessed, Mr. Force's habitual equanimity had undergone a strain that +came so near to resulting in a collapse that only a miracle--(it may +have taken the form of stupefaction, or a kindly paralysis)--only a +miracle could have kept him from betraying the one great secret of his +life. + +Ordinarily, he would have put off calling on the Bingles for a month +or six weeks, being that scornful of social amenities; but he could +hardly wait for the approach of sunrise to be on his way to Seafood on +this brilliant Christmas morning. It was not a brilliant, shimmering +day for him, however. He saw nothing beautiful in the steel-blue sky: +to him it was a drab, unlovely pall. He saw no beauty in the snow-clad +foliage, no splendour in the bejewelled tree-tops, no purity in the +veil of white that lay upon the face of the earth. He saw only +himself, and he was a drear, bleak thing as viewed introspectively. + +Nor is it to be taken for granted that Mr. Bingle slept well on this +night before Christmas. Neither he nor his wife went to bed until far +along in the wee sma' hours. The great house was as still as the +grave, save for the occasional crack of shrinking woodwork and the +rattle of dislodged icicles on the window-ledges outside. The wind had +died away. It seemed that all nature, respecting their mood, had +hushed its every noise in order that they might think, and think, and +think on without hope or a single sign of promise in this time of +despair. + +They were to lose Kathleen. The man had been somewhat vague about it, +but the situation was clear to them, even though it was not so to him. +Their claim to the child--the one they loved best of all--was no +longer undivided. A real father had turned up to assert his rights. +They might dispute his claim and make the affair so awkward and so +unpleasant for him that he would withdraw, but what would be their +gain? The man existed. He was the real father. Kathleen was the flesh +and blood of this tardy penitent, this betrayer of women, this coward. +Never again, so long as she lived, could she be looked upon as theirs. +Even though she remained with them, and in perfect contentment, there +would still be the sinister shadow lying across the path--the shadow +of a man hiding, of a man who dared not come out into the open but +whose everlasting presence was a threat. + +They did not know this man, they did not know whether he was a +blackguard or a gentleman. He was a destroyer; that much they knew. He +had wrecked a human life. The detective had declared to Mr. Bingle +that his client was a man of means, married, and eminently +respectable, but then a detective's idea of respectability is not +always a safe one to go by. Every man is respectable until some one is +hired to prove that he isn't. + +When Mr. Force rang the front door-bell, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle were +seated before the fire in the library. Kathleen sat upon the former's +knee. The rest of the children had been sent off to the huge playroom +on the top floor, and their distant shrieks, muffled by the +thicknesses of many doors and walls, came faintly down to the +fireside. With the subdued, even refined jingle of the door-bell, the +two Bingles straightened up in their chairs and looked into each +other's eyes, suddenly apprehensive. Who could be calling on them at +such an early hour? Was it some one in connection with this unhappy +business? Could it be possible that they had come to take Kathleen +away so soon? + +"Better run upstairs, now, Kathie," said Mr. Bingle, abruptly. +"Skedaddle! Go up the back way, dear." He thought of the back-stairs +just in time. It wouldn't do for her to encounter the strange, perhaps +unfeeling emissaries in the main hall. No telling what they might do. +They might even take forcible possession of her and be off before help +could be summoned. + +"I want to stay here with you, daddy," protested Kathleen, resolutely +clinging to her perch on his knee--and was not to be dislodged. Before +Mr. Bingle could utter another word, Diggs appeared in the door and +announced Mr. Force. Instantly Kathleen's manner changed. She released +her grip on Mr. Bingle's arm and slid to the floor. "Oh, I hate him! I +don't want to see him." + +"Kathie!" cried Mrs. Bingle, distressed. "You should not say such +things. Mr. Force is very nice to you. He likes you--" + +"He gives me a pain," said Kathleen succinctly. + +"Good heavens!" gasped Mr. Bingle. "Where did you learn such language +as that?" + +"It isn't language, daddy," said Kathie. "It's just slang. Everybody +uses it. Don't people give you a pain sometimes?" + +"Never!" said he. "I don't believe in slang," he added, as if to +fortify himself against a conviction. "You needn't go, deary. Stay and +see Mr. Force." + +"I don't want to see him. I want to see Fairy. Oh, daddy, what are you +going to let her get married for? I know Freddie will commit suicide +if she marries that old Flanders." + +"Freddie? What business is it of his?" + +"I mustn't tell," she said, suddenly realising that she had been on +the point of betraying a grave secret. An instant later she was off +like the wind, whisking out of one door as Mr. Force entered by the +other. + +"Dear me, dear me," sighed Mr. Bingle, staring at his wife helplessly; +"what do you suppose has happened to Frederick? A boy of his age +talking of suicide is--Oh, good morning, Mr. Force. Merry Christmas! +'Pon my word, you're an early bird. Come up to the fire. You look half +frozen. Why, by George, your teeth are chattering. Diggs! Throw on a +couple of logs, will you, and get the whiskey. We keep it for +medicinal purposes and--" + +"Not for me," broke in Mr. Force hastily. "Not a thing to drink, old +man. I'm quite all right. It is a bit snappy outside. Good morning, +Mrs. Bingle. How are you feeling since the--I beg your pardon, Bingle, +I really don't want a drink. Silly of me to shiver like this. You'd +think I had a chill, wouldn't you? But I'll be all right in a minute +or two." + +He stood with his back to the blazing logs. His teeth were chattering, +but not because of the cold. Every nerve in his body was on edge; his +physical being was merely responding to the turmoil that filled his +brain. Could they have seen his hands, clasped behind his back, they +might have wondered why the fingers were locked together in a grip so +fierce that the cords stood out in ridges on his wrists. + +"You don't know what you miss, not having children about you on +Christmas morning," said Mr. Bingle, planting his small figure +alongside that of the tall man and attempting to spread his coat +tails, an utter impossibility in view of the fact that he had no tails +to spread, being incased in a dressing gown that reached almost to his +heels when he stood erect but unmistakably touched the floor if he +permitted his dignity to sag in the least--and he was having some +difficulty in maintaining his dignity on this doleful morning, it may +be said. "It would have done your heart good, Force, if you could have +been here this morning--say at half-past six--and seen the circus we +had. Well, sir, it was--" + +"Half-past six? My dear man, you don't mean to say those little +rascals got you out of bed at that ungodly hour. Why, I would have--" + +"Just the other way 'round," said Mr. Bingle, sheepishly. "We had to +fairly yank 'em out of bed. We are the rascals, Force--Mary and I. We +couldn't wait, don't you see? But, of course, you don't see. You +couldn't see unless you'd been counting on Christmas morning for +months. You--But, what's the matter, Force? 'Pon my word, you DO need +a bracer. Mary, dear, won't you see if--" + +"See here, Bingle," blurted out Mr. Force, in desperation, "I want a +few words with you alone. It is--imperative. Hope you will excuse me, +Mrs. Bingle. I'm a bit upset--yes, considerably upset--over something +that has come up in the--er--that is to say, quite recently. I--I want +your husband's advice on--on a matter of grave importance." + +The Bingles stared at him for a moment in speechless concern. Then Mr. +Bingle managed to give expression to the fear that entered his heart +as Force concluded his amazing remarks. + +"Anything--anything wrong at the bank?" he inquired, swallowing hard. +Was the man about to tell him that the bank--the great bank--was going +under, that there had been defalcations, that--but even as he pictured +the collapse of the bank there shot into his brain another and still +more ghastly thought: had the Supreme Court decided against him in the +long-fought case of Hooper et al vs. Bingle? + +"Certainly NOT," exclaimed Mr. Force, with sudden irascibility. His +nerves WERE at a high tension, there was no denying that. "Nothing +whatever to do with the bank, sir. What the dev--what could have put +such a thought into your head, Bingle?" + +"You looked so--so blasted serious," said Mr. Bingle, with surprising +heat. + +"Thomas!" cried his wife, aghast. + +"Beg pardon, Force," muttered Mr. Bingle, very much ashamed of +himself. "I didn't mean to be profane. I guess I'm a little nervous +myself." + +"Can't I look serious without putting the bank on its last legs?" +demanded Mr. Force, glaring. + +"Certainly," Mr. Bingle made haste to assure him. "Look as serious as +you please, Force. I know it can't hurt the bank. Don't go, Mary. Mr. +Force and I will slip up to my study. We are less likely to be +interrupted there." + +"I trust Mrs. Force is well," said the lady of Seawood, and there was +a note of anxiety in her voice. There HAD been a queer taste to the +lobster a la Newburg. She remembered mentioning it to Mr. Bingle after +the company had gone. + +Mr. Force was guilty of an uneasy start. What was the woman driving +at? What put it into her head to mention his wife? Why SHOULDN'T his +wife be well? + +"Quite well, thank you," he said at the end of a deep exhalation. +Indeed he was quite without breath when he came to the "thank you." It +would have been better if he hadn't tried to be so courteous. "Quite +well," would have been sufficient. He realised, as he wheezily filled +his lungs, that the "thank you" was entirely superfluous. In any +event, it wasn't so important that he should have gone to the pains of +upsetting his dignity in order to say it, no matter if it was the +proper thing to say. He always hated anything that caused him to +become red in the face. + +"It's quite a relief," said Mrs. Bingle, brightening. It would have +been dreadful if anything HAD been the matter with the lobster. + +But Mr. Force knew nothing whatever about the suspected lobster and +being in considerable doubt as to just how much of Miss Glenn's story +the Bingles had learned, very naturally believed that the good lady +was concerned about Mrs. Force's peace of mind rather than her state +of health. He grew perfectly scarlet and mumbled something about his +wife sleeping like a log, and then hastily followed Mr. Bingle out of +the room. + +"Troubles never come singly, do they, Force?" said Bingle as they +mounted the stairs. He sighed deeply. + +"So they say," said Force, also sighing. He was thinking of the +interview that was to come. He was wondering just how he was going to +explain things to Mr. Bingle. + +"She isn't to be married till spring, but--Oh, well, I suppose I +shouldn't complain." Mr. Force stopped stock-still on the stairs. +"Mar-married?" he gasped. "Are you crazy?" + +"Almost," said Mr. Bingle promptly. "If anything more happens, I'll be +wholly so. Come in, Force. Now, old chap, what's on YOUR mind?" They +had entered the study. Mr. Bingle faced his visitor after closing the +door carefully behind him. "Out with it? Don't keep me in suspense. +Has--has the case finally gone against me?" + +"Who is going to be married in the spring?" demanded Force, wiping his +brow. + +"Miss Fairweather. I thought you knew." + +"Oh, the devil! Of course not! What do I know about Miss Fairweather's +affairs?" + +"Flanders is the man. He's the lucky dog. An old affair, Force. +Tremendously romantic story back of--" + +"Needn't mind, Bingle. I don't care to hear it at present. I've got +something a great deal more important to think about--dammit." He sat +down heavily, and began fumbling for his cigar case. His forehead was +dripping wet. + +"It must be serious," said Mr. Bingle slowly, "or you wouldn't be +swearing as you do, Force. I've never heard you swear before." + +"It is serious. Of all the improbable, dime novel, hellish--But tell +me, Bingle: how much do you know?" + +"How much do I know about what?" + +"Didn't that fellow blab anything to you last night?" + +"Bla--blab?" + +Force pointed to a chair. "Sit down. Are you sure no one can hear what +I'm saying?" + +"No one but yours truly," said Mr. Bingle, assuming a jauntiness he +did not feel. He sat down, his back as stiff as a board. + +His visitor leaned forward, his hands grasping the arms of the chair. +"Well, I'll tell you something, Bingle, that will paralyse you. I--I +didn't sleep a wink last night." + +"That doesn't paralyse me. Neither did I--" + +"This is no time to be funny, Bingle," said the other roughly. "Do you +want to know what kept me awake all night, suffering the torments of +the damned?" + +"I do," responded Mr. Bingle, casting a quick glance at Mr. Force's +jaw. He knew what it was to have a toothache. + +"Well, it was that miserable business about--about Kathleen," said +Force, a querulous note creeping into his voice. Mr. Bingle did not +think it worth while to tell him that it was the same miserable +business that kept him awake. "Now, I want the truth, Bingle. I want +to be sure before I go ahead. It means a great deal to both of us. Was +Kathleen's mother named Agnes Glenn?" + +"It was," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes narrowing with the dawn of +comprehension. + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Once, just before she died." + +"Describe her, Bingle." + +"I can't. Good Lord, man, my eyes were blind with tears all the time I +was--" + +"Never mind," broke in Force. "We won't go into that, after all. Did +she tell you anything about herself, her past life, her--her trouble?" + +"Not a word. She was just about to enter the future life, Force. She +hadn't much to say. Simply said that she hoped I'd be good to her +little baby, that's all. Go on, man." + +Mr. Force appeared to be lost in bleak abstraction. The curt command +brought him out of it with a start. + +"She went by the name of Mrs. Hinman, you say. No other name was +mentioned, then or afterwards?" + +"No." + +"I can tell you something about her, Bingle. She lived for three years +as the wife of a man who called himself Hinman. She wasn't his wife +and that wasn't his name. She'd been on the stage. She went to live +with this man as his wife. She was a good girl up to the time she met +this man and fell in love with him. Her home was in the West. Her +parents were respected, God-fearing people. They never knew that she-- +that she took up the life she led with--Hinman. Don't interrupt me, +Bingle. If I don't get it out now, I'll never have the courage to try +it again. No man was ever in such a desperate plight as I find myself +in to-day. I'll come straight to the point. I am the man called Hinman +and--this child you've got here with you is--mine." + +He might have had the grace to exhibit some sign of shame or +compunction, but he did nothing of the kind. He merely looked defiant, +as if expecting Mr. Bingle to say something that he could resent. + +But Mr. Bingle sank deeper into his chair, his chin buried, his eyes +fastened in a sort of horror upon the face of the President of the +great bank. He was incapable of uttering a word. + +After a little while Force went on: "Blood will tell. All this +accounts for the peculiar, inexplicable attraction that Kathleen has +held for me. It is like a chapter out of an impossible novel. It--" + +"And perhaps it accounts for the antipathy the poor child has for +you," said Mr. Bingle, his voice a trifle shrill and uncertain. He did +not take his gaze from the face of his visitor. "It now seems quite +natural to me." + +"Nonsense! The child had no means of knowing or even suspecting that +I--" + +"She had a birthright, Force. You can't take that away from her. The +hatred for her father was born in her. God wouldn't let her hate the +wrong man, you know." + +Force got up from the chair, tremendously moved all of a sudden. A +piteous, pleading look came into his eyes, and his face, once +arrogant, was now haggard with despair. + +"Bingle, I--I want you to help me. For God's sake, do what you can for +me. Put into practice your beautiful Christmas Carol teachings. I--I +want her. She must be made to understand that I love her, she must be +made to feel that she is everything in the world to me. She looks like +her mother. I thought it was fancy on my part, but now I know. Good +God, little did I know where fate was going to lead me when I employed +those fellows to find the child of Agnes Glenn. Little did I know that +it would lead me to your door, Bingle." + +Mr. Bingle arose. He was very pale and shaken, but he managed to +control himself with remarkable fortitude. + +"I have not told you that Agnes Glenn died of starvation--and carbolic +acid," he said slowly. "Have your detectives told you that?" + +"Carbolic acid?" whispered Force, with staring eyes. "Starvation? Good +God, man--not that!" + +"Yes--THAT! The Society found her when she was about gone. I was +notified. We were looking for a child. This baby of hers was then +about two years old. Mrs. Bingle and I went to the poor little flat +where they had found her, after the neighbours had told the police of +her plight. She was sick unto death. I said that we would care for her +baby as if it were our own. Then I made arrangements to have her +removed to a hospital at once. While we were out of the room, she took +the carbolic acid. That's the way it happened, Force. That was the end +of Agnes Glenn. She was a splendid character, Force. She did not +betray you. She stuck by you to the very end. She protected you a +great deal better than you protected her." + +"See here, Bingle, I don't like your tone. It sounds preachy. You +don't know anything about life, so you can't understand. That sort of +thing is--well, it happens to a good many men and no one thinks much +about it. I daresay that half the men you know have had just such an +experience. It's part of the game here in New York. The girls +understand it. They have no illusions. They know that these men +cannot--or will not marry them. So, as you don't know anything about +life as it's practised now-a-days, I'd advise you to go slow with your +platitudes." + +"All right, Force," said Mr. Bingle quietly. "If that's the way you +feel about it, there's no use wasting time over nothing. I can't +resist saying, however, that I didn't think it was in you to be so +damned cold-blooded." + +"Cold-blooded over what? The Glenn girl? Why, my dear man, that was +nearly thirteen years ago. I am sorry that she had to go the way she +did, but, good Lord, I can't go through life in sackcloth and ashes +because she died--as a lot of people do, every year, you know. Hers +was not an uncommon case. There are thousands just like it happening +every year. It's the price we all pay, men and women. There's no use +being sentimental about a perfectly commonplace--I might even say +legitimate--transaction. Agnes Glenn was like the rest of her kind: +she had a very sharp pair of eyes open all of the time, you may be +quite sure of that. I will say this for her, poor little devil: she +was no blackmailer. She got down and out when the time came and she +never squealed. That's more than most of 'em do, Bingle. 'Pon my soul, +old man, I came here to see you this morning fairly trembling in my +boots. I had an idea it was going to be a hard, nasty business talking +it over with you, but--by George, it isn't. Now, we can get down to +rock-bottom, Bingle. My plan was to--" + +"Just a minute, please," interrupted Mr. Bingle, quite steadily. "Did +you know that she was going to become a mother?" + +"Certainly. You don't suppose I'd be looking for the child if I hadn't +known she was to be born, do you? I'd be a nice fool, hiring +detectives to unearth some other man's child, wouldn't I?" + +"I must agree with you in one particular, Force; you are not finding +it as hard as you thought it would be. I've never seen a man change +more than you have in the past four minutes. You were shaking like a +leaf when you came up here, and now--well, 'pon my soul, you are as +brave as a lion. That certainly proves one thing." + +"What's that?" + +"That your conscience is clearing." + +"Now, don't get it into your head, Bingle, that I'm not dreadfully +sorry for the way that poor girl came to her end. She was really a +brick. She deserved something better." + +"Knowing that she was going to bear your child, Force, you have every +reason, I am sure, to say that she was a brick. I, too, say that she +deserved something better than being the mother of your child. What +happened? Did she leave you of her own accord?" + +"In a way, yes," said Mr. Force coolly. "In the customary way, of +course. You see, I was about to be married, Bingle. When I explained +the situation to her, she understood. She knew that I couldn't go on +leading the sort of life I'd led before--" + +"You hesitate, Force. Why couldn't you go on leading the life you'd +led before? I should say it was quite as decent at one time as +another." + +"By Jove, Single, I hadn't the remotest idea you were so simple. I +thought you at least knew SOMETHING about life. You amaze me. You are +positively refreshing. Let me ask you, Bingle, would you have gone on +leading the old life as--now, man to man, Bingle--would you?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Bingle simply. A queer unexpected little smile flitted +across his face--a wry smile, perhaps, but still a sign of humour. +"You see, Force, I love children." + +Mr. Force stared at him without comprehension. What the DEUCE had that +to do with it? + +"Oh, well, you can't understand, of course. To make it short, she was +extremely reasonable. As a matter of fact, when I went up to see her +the day after I had told her that I was to be married, hang me if she +hadn't cleared out. No scene, no tears, no maledictions--just good, +hard sense, Bingle, that's what it was. Not many of them would have +been so decent about it. They usually make a bluff or something of the +sort--money, you know, regular blackmail. But she didn't. She got out +as quietly as a mouse, left no trace behind, no regrets, no +complaints. Just a note saying she understood and wishing me luck. +Rather fine, eh?" + +"And you married right after that?" + +"Six weeks afterward." + +"And, of course, the present Mrs. Hinman knows that she's got a step- +daughter?" + +"The present Mrs. Hinman? Step-daughter? Good Lord, Bingle, I didn't +know you had that much sarcasm in you. But that delicate remark of +yours brings me back to the main issue--the matter I really came over +to see you about. Naturally Mrs. Force knows nothing of--of this story +I've been telling you. Now, what I want to get at is just this: how +can we manage it about Kathleen without causing my wife to suspect? +Put your mind to it, Bingle. How am I going to take the child under my +wing, so to speak--take her into my home, without--" "Wait! We'll look +at it from another point of view. Suppose this detective of yours had +found your child in the slums of New York, a street waif, a beggar-- +what then? Was it your intention to take her into your home in that +case? Wasn't it your idea to provide a home for her in some +respectable family, educate her, give her a secret allowance--and let +it go at that? Can you honestly say to me, Force, that you intended to +adopt her--as you are now thinking of doing?" + +"Confound you, Bingle, isn't it only reasonable that I should have +wanted to see the child before I made any definite plans for her +future?" + +"And now that you've seen her, and found her to be an adorable, +lovely, even high-bred little creature, you think it's all right to +take her into your own home--into her father's home?" + +"Don't be hard on me, Bingle. Can't you understand that I've got a +father's feelings after all? Can't you credit me with--" + +"I'll go back a dozen years, Force, and ask you this question: did you +make any effort to find this child and provide for her when she was a +tiny baby? Did you do anything toward helping the mother in her time +of trouble?" + +"I tried to help her, Bingle, before God I did," cried Force +earnestly. "I'm not such a rotter as all that. Agnes wrote me a brief +note when the baby was born. I happened to be off on my wedding- +journey at the time. She said she merely wanted me to know that she +had a little girl baby, and she went on to say that she'd starve +before she'd take a penny from me for its support. That's the truth, +Bingle, I swear it. When I got back from California, I tried to find +Agnes. I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to make the rest of +her life easy and comfortable. But I couldn't find her." + +"Did you hunt very long?" + +"Long enough. A year or so later I heard that she was dead and that +the child had been taken into a good home. There was nothing more for +me to do. I dropped the matter. Then, recently, I began to think about +the child. I began to want her. I engaged detectives to--" + +"We know all about that," interrupted Mr. Bingle crisply. "And now I +think we understand each other clearly, Force. You want Kathleen. So +do I. There's only one way for you to get her, and that is to have +Mrs. Force intercede for you. If your wife comes to me and says that +SHE wants Kathleen, I'll give her up, even though it breaks my heart. +What have you to say, Force?" + +Force had lost all his lofty confidence. He was shaking again, as with +the ague. This was not at all what he had bargained for. Who would +have dreamed it of Bingle? + +"Come now, Bingle, let us get together--" + +Mr. Bingle interrupted him in no uncertain manner. He planted himself +squarely in front of the big man--in fact, almost under his nose--and +snarled: + +"There's only one way for you to get Kathleen away from me, Force, +and, darn you, I don't believe you'll undertake it. I shall give her +up to you only on condition that you acknowledge her to be your +daughter." + +Force's jaw dropped. "Are you crazy, Bingle?" he gasped. He lifted his +head the next instant in order to avoid the agitated finger that was +being shaken under his nose. + +"I don't intend that you shall say to the world that she is a child of +shame. Not at all, sir! That would be the height of cruelty. But +you've got to tell your wife the story you've told me if you want to +take Kathleen away from me. She has got to know that the child is +yours. You can't come any adoption dodge over me, Force. She's already +adopted. She--" + +"But, great heaven, man, my wife wouldn't have her in the house if--if +she knew the truth about her," exploded the wretched Force. "No woman +would stand for that." + +"Then, by the eternal Moses," shouted Mr. Bingle, "she'll stay right +here with Daddy and Mammy Bingle." + +"But she's mine! If, as you say, she is the daughter of Agnes Glenn +there isn't the slightest doubt that she belongs to me. I want to do +the right thing by the child. I want to--" + +"No use talking, Force. There's but one way." + +"But, damn it all, I CAN'T go to my wife with all this! I can't--" + +"Then Kathleen stays where she is," said Mr. Bingle firmly. + +"Great Scott, man, what difference can it make to you? You can adopt +another child to-morrow and fill her place. It isn't as if she were +your own child. You don't know what it is to have a child of your own +--your own flesh and blood. You CAN'T have a father's feeling for--" + +"That will do, Force! You've said enough. The matter stands as it is. +I'll tell you something else though before we part: I don't want you +coming to this house annoying Agnes Glenn's child. I shall tell my +wife all that you have told me and I'd advise you to tell yours, +because I don't want you to put your foot inside my door until you can +come here with Mrs. Force and humbly--you notice I say humbly?-- +implore us to give up that which belongs to us by virtue of that old +law of salvage. I have already wished you a Merry Christmas, Mr. +Force. Now permit me to bid you good morning." + +He strode to the study door and opened it. His chin was high and his +eyes were uncommonly bright. The hem of the dressing gown was farther +from the floor than it had ever been during his ownership. + +"I'll think it over, Bingle," muttered Mr. Force, very red in the face +as he stalked past the little man and started down the stairs. "Good +morning!" + +"Good morning!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL + + +Flanders was a constant visitor at Seawood. In the fortnight +immediately following the all-important Christmas Eve, he appeared at +the Bingle home on no less than ten separate occasions. + +"I see that Mr. and Mrs. Force are sailing for Europe to-morrow," said +he on his most recent visit. + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. "It's news to me." + +There was every reason in the world why it should be news to him. He +had neither seen nor heard from Force since that Christmas morning +ultimatum. Purposely Mr. Bingle had stayed away from the bank, where, +as its first vice-president, he was wont to spend much of his time +looking after the comfort and advancement of the bookkeepers and +clerks. He never overlooked an opportunity to help his old comrades in +the "galleys." The board of directors were compelled to fight him +constantly in order to keep him from putting through his plan to raise +all wages, and there came near to being a catastrophe when they voted +down his ridiculous scheme for providing fresh air for the lungs of +the workers in the "pen." He made certain comparisons in which Russia +was frequently mentioned and three or four of the directors afterwards +referred to him as an "undignified little ass." + +But now he hesitated about going to the bank. Somehow, he could not +quite bring himself to the point of encountering the president of the +bank in his capacity as head of the great and reputable concern. Never +again would he be able to look upon Sydney Force as the right man for +the place. He could only think of him as "a man called Hinman." Being +a charitable soul, however, he stood ready to overlook much that was +obnoxious in the character of the man if the time ever came when he +openly revealed a contrite heart and a disposition to make amends in +the proper way. + +"To be gone for three months, I hear," said Flanders, looking at his +watch. "I say, Mr. Bingle, doesn't it seem to you that the afternoon +lessons are a little longer than usual? It's five o'clock. I have to +be back in town before half-past six." + +Mr. Bingle did not reply. A sudden cause for rejoicing had sprung up, +occupying all of his attention. For three months, at least, he would +be free to call Kathleen his own, and for three months he could go to +the bank without being disturbed by the workings of his own +conscience--for after all, a visible Mr. Force would be something of a +tax upon his sense of honour. + +Flanders waited for a moment and then began winding his watch. + +"Ahem!" he coughed. + +"News to me," repeated Mr. Bingle, rising above his reflections. + +"By the way, sir, it may interest you to know that I'm getting along +nicely with the play." + +"Good! I'm glad to hear it. They tell me there is a great deal of +money to be made out of a good play." + +"There's a lot to be made out of a successful play. It doesn't follow +that it has to be a good one, you know," said Flanders, didactically. +"I am terribly keen on finishing it and getting a production as soon +as possible. It means a--well, you know what it means to me, sir. +These managers are a rum lot. Four-fifths of them don't know a good +play from a bad one. I suppose I'll have a hard time placing it, +because I don't believe it will be bad enough at the outset for them +to accept it on sight. I understand it is a theory among managers that +if a play is unspeakably bad they can hire some one else to rewrite it +from beginning to end, and make a success of it. Adversely, if it +should happen to be a good play, they don't know what it's all about +and will have nothing to do with it." + +"I'm sure your play will be a dandy," said Mr. Bingle warmly. "The +plot is tip-top. Even a manager ought to be able to tell what it's all +about." + +"I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness in listening to +all I've had to say about the piece. I'm afraid I've bored you +terribly." + +"Not at all, not at all. I've always been interested in the theatre. +I'll confess to you that I've always wanted to know a real actor or +actress. Now that our dear Miss Fairweather turns out to be--er--to +have been on the stage for some time before she came to us, my +interest in the profession is intensified. I really am quite thrilled +over knowing a real, flesh and blood actress." + +"We were a little afraid you wouldn't look at it so generously, Mr. +Bingle." + +"I know. Miss Fairweather has told us of her sleepless nights, +worrying over the supposed deception. She might just as well have +slept comfortably, Dick. She may have been a bad actress but she +wasn't a bad woman, so no harm has come of it. Do you think she is +qualified to play the leading part in your show? It strikes me that it +is a very difficult part. I should think it would take some one like +Modjeska or Julia Marlowe to play it properly. She is--" "My dear Mr. +Bingle, Amy is just the woman for the part of Deborah. I am sure of +it--positively. The trouble is that I'm afraid the managers will +insist on putting in somebody with a name--like Ethel Barrymore or +Nazimova or Maude Adams. That's going to be the rub, you see. Of +course, I shall not give in to them. It is Amy Colgate or no one." He +looked very rueful despite this firm and dauntless speech. + +Mr. Bingle stared at the fire for a few minutes, his lips pursed in an +expression that spoke of calculation. + +"I have been thinking, Dick," he said at last; "thinking very +seriously of taking a little flyer in the--er--theatrical business." +Immediately upon uttering this astonishing remark he became very red +in the face and shifted his gaze to the remote upper left-hand corner +of the room. + +Figuratively speaking, Mr. Flanders fell upon his neck. Inside of +thirty minutes, Mr. Thomas Singleton Bingle was in a position to +regard himself as a producing manager and Miss Amy Colgate, one of +America's most promising young leading women, was on her way to become +a star, to say nothing of the ascendency of Richard Sheridan Flanders +as a playwright. The difficulties were all swept away. A Broadway +theatre was no longer a hope; it was a certainty. Mr. Bingle could buy +all the "time" he wanted in any house along the Great White Way. It +wouldn't be necessary to squabble over the relative drawing powers of +Ethel Barrymore or Maude Adams, nor was it anybody's business who Amy +Colgate was or where she came from--to use the words of the elated +dramatist--and it didn't make a bit of difference whether the second +week's "gross" was smaller than the first. Mr. Bingle was back of the +play and that settled everything. + +"I have great faith in the play," admitted Mr. Flanders, with becoming +modesty. + +"So have I," agreed Mr. Bingle enthusiastically. He had been dazed, +yet vastly impressed by the unintelligible phraseology of the stage as +it ran from the glib lips of the eager young man. He was flattered by +Dick's assumption that he was perfectly familiar with the theatre from +box office to "gridiron." + +"And what's more," added the playwright, "I have faith in Amy." + +By this time Mr. Bingle had unbounded faith in the young actress, and +said so with considerable fervour. Whereupon, the jubilant author +suggested that they send for Miss Fairweather at once and acquaint her +with the glorious news. But Mr. Bingle shook his head. + +"No, we can't do that," he said, looking at his watch. "Lessons are +not over yet. Ten minutes left, I see. She's still a governess, Dick. +One job at a time. The stage can wait." + +Mr. Flanders sighed but smiled. Then, for no especial reason, he +slapped Mr. Bingle heartily on the back and laughed aloud. He had no +words to express his accumulative joy, so he laughed--and there were +tears in his eyes. + +"We'll have the best production that money can buy," said Mr. Bingle, +swelling ever so slightly, after the manner of practised managers. "An +all-star cast, and scenery by Sargent." + +Later on, in the privacy of Miss Fairweather's schoolroom, the author +and the star discussed the great sensation, and you may be surprised +to learn that there were two sides to the discussion. Miss Fairweather +was a sensible young woman, although amazingly beautiful, and she took +a most extraordinary view of the situation. + +"It isn't right, it isn't fair, it isn't playing the game, Dick," she +protested, resolutely releasing herself from his embrace after +listening for a long time, with throbbing heart, to his song of +triumph. "Poor, dear Mr. Bingle! He is doing it out of the goodness of +his heart. I am not a 'star' and I am not 'big' enough to be featured +on Broadway. It would be a sin to let him put his money into a certain +failure. I will not listen to you, Dick. Much as I love you, I still +have a conscience and it will not allow me to sacrifice that simple +soul. Why, don't you know what would happen? The critics would go into +convulsions over the attempt to foist a silly little--" + +"But, hang it all, Amy, you've got it in you to surprise New York," he +cried earnestly. "I KNOW you can do it. Good Lord, I wouldn't take a +nickel of Mr. Bingle's money if I didn't believe you could make good. +Why, I've got a conscience too, much as the confession may surprise +you." + +"You are carried away by excitement, dear," she said softly, patting +his cheek. "Just stop and think for a minute. Who am I? What have I +ever done? Where have I--" + +"But can't you see that the PLAY will be the making of you? The part +is a wonder. You can't help creating a sensation with such a role to +carry you along. Now, I'm not conceited--not a bit of it--but I do +know this much: this play and this part are going to turn Broadway +upside down." + +"I could agree with you, dear, if you had some one like--oh, well, if +you won't allow me to talk, I--please let me say it, Dick." His kisses +had played havoc with her ideas. "Now, DO listen to me! It's all very +well to SAY that I am qualified to turn Broadway--" + +"Of course, we don't have to 'star' you at the outset," he +interrupted, suddenly resorting to reason. "We needn't feature any one +at the start. If you make good--and I know you will--why, the papers +will see to it that your name goes up in electric lights over the +little old front door. I daresay you're right in going slow, dear. I +am so excited that I don't know whether I'm on my feet or my head. +Now, let's talk it over calmly, sensibly, sanely. The upshot of the +whole matter is this: my play is to be produced and you are to play +the part of Deborah. We don't have to ask any beastly theatrical +manager to read the play and we don't have to go down on our knees to +get a job for you. Mr. Bingle is going into this thing with his eyes, +open. He tells me he has faith in the play and in you, and as he +happens to have a great many millions of dollars we ought to have +faith in him. He will put the piece on in bang-up style. He realizes +that there is a chance for failure, but so does every man who puts his +money into a theatrical production. It is part of the game. It is up +to you and me, Amy, to see that Mr. Bingle comes out of this thing a +winner. He--" + +"Wait, dear," she interrupted, her fair brow-clouding. "What of Mrs. +Bingle? What will she say to this exploit of his?" + +"Isn't he the master in his own house?" demanded Dick loftily. Still, +a spark of dismay leaped into his eyes. + +"He is a good man, Dick. He never permits himself to forget that she +is its mistress. She will have something to say on the subject, you +may be sure of that. I am not quite certain that she approves of the +stage, and I've heard her say that actresses must be dreadful +creatures if one believes all one hears about them smoking cigarettes +and stealing young boys out of college. That was before she knew of my +late lamented past. She has been perfectly lovely to me since, +however, and I believe she is pleasantly excited by my 'gossip of the +footlights,' as she calls it. She asked me the other day if it is true +that chorus girls are more sinned against than sinning."' + +"She did?" he cried, grinning. "And what did you say to that?" + +"I said it was quite true," she said flatly. + +"Well, it won't hurt her to think that they'd all be angels if they +had their way about it. Now, let's get back to facts, dear. I've told +Mr. Bingle that the play can be finished in a month or six weeks. He +is for putting it on at once, but I don't believe it's good business +to risk trying it out at the tail end of a very bad season. Things are +bound to be better in the fall. My idea is to begin rehearsals late in +the summer, play a couple of weeks in the tank towns to whip the thing +into shape, and then go into New York some time in September. I'll +begin getting a cast together this spring--none but the best, you +understand--and that will give us a fair chance to go into Broadway +with a corking production. Who do you consider to be the best leading +man in the business to-day?" + +Now, Mr. Bingle WAS having quite a time of it with the mistress of the +house. In his new-found enthusiasm, he went to her at once with the +word that he had decided to make a subrosa invasion of the mimic world +to help out poor Flanders and to lay his hand against the prejudice +and ignorance that seemed to be throttling the theatre. + +She listened to him in speechless amazement, not quite sure of her +ears. + +"Of course, I sha'n't permit my name to be mentioned in the matter," +he explained hastily. "That would be foolish, my dear. I shall have it +clearly understood that Dick is backing the thing himself--on borrowed +money, if needs be. Now, you see, Miss Colgate is a very clever young +leading woman and--" + +"Leading woman?" queried Mrs. Bingle, blinking. She had laid down her +embroidery. + +"Stage expression," said he loftily. "It means one who plays--er-- +plays leads. Ahem! That is to say, one who takes a principal part in +the show. Miss Colgate is regarded as--" + +It was then that Mrs. Bingle found her voice. After ten minutes, he +succeeded in changing the subject. In all his acquaintance with his +wife, he had never known her to be so scathing in the matter of words. +She succeeded in causing him to feel extremely small and sheepish, for +after all there was a world of justice and common sense in what she +had to say concerning his inspired offer to engage in an enterprise +that was as far from his understanding as the North Pole is from the +South. + +"But," he managed to insert, weakly, "it's only to help Dick out, to +encourage genius, to--" + +"Genius your Granny!" she exclaimed. "Don't you suppose that these +regular theatre managers know genius when they see it?" + +"Some of the best plays ever written have never seen the light of +day," said he. + +"Then how does any one know that they were good plays, if they never +were played? Tell me that, Thomas Bingle." + +"My dear, I am only repeating what history tells--" + +"Well, answer this question then: what do you know about a play? Where +do you get your wonderful knowledge of dramatic composition?" + +"I think you will acknowledge that I know my Shakespeare pretty well," +he said stiffly. + +"But Richard Flanders isn't Shakespeare, Thomas. He's a reporter on a +daily paper. Now, for goodness' sake, be sensible. Don't make a fool +of yourself, dear. I know what's best for you. I--" + +"I'm merely proposing to FINANCE the thing, Mary," he argued. "I'm +doing it because I like Dick and I want him to succeed. I do not set +myself up as a real manager. I'm what Dick calls an 'angel.' He says-- +" + +"Well of all the--Do you mean to say that big, strapping fellow called +you an angel?" + +"Theatrical expression," he said. + +"I shouldn't have been surprised if you'd said that Miss Fairweather +called you an angel, but when it comes to--Oh, dear, what an awful +thing for one man to call another!" + +"Now, see here, Mary, you don't under--" + +But she interrupted him again and he sat back limply to wait for an +opportunity to get in the statement that he wanted most of all to make +to her--which, when the time came for him to speak, was this: + +"Well, well, dear, we'll let the matter rest for a day or two. I only +thought you'd be interested in the experiment--you and I together, you +know--something new and thrilling. We could have a lot of fun planning +and secretly watching the play grow from day to day, and discussing +costumes and scenery, and meeting real actors and actresses, and +seeing the inside workings of the stage, and the green room--and the +dressing-rooms, and all that, you know. It's something we used to talk +about and wonder about, don't you remember? Remember how we used to +sit up in the balcony and wonder what was really happening behind the--" + +"Indeed I do!" she cried, and her eyes sparkled. "I've always wanted +to have a peep behind the scenes and--" She had the good sense to stop +before she compromised herself beyond recovery--but she looked +extremely guilty. + +"We'll talk it over to-morrow," said he. "It might be a relief to us +to have something like this to occupy our thoughts in case we--we +actually have to give Kathleen up to--By the way, Dick tells me he is +sailing for Europe to-morrow. I wonder what it means." + +"Mr. Force? Is she going with him?" + +"Yes. For three months." + +She reflected. "I'll tell you what it means, Tom," she said, leaning +forward to lay her hand upon his knee. "He has told her everything." + +"I don't believe it!" + +"You mark my words, Tom. He has told her. They are going abroad to +thrash it all out, that's the long and short of it." + +"I wonder," said Mr. Bingle, wide-eyed and sober. Long afterward he +came out of his reverie, and said: "I forgot to tell you that Swanson +spoke to me yesterday about his sister's latest. I was awfully sorry +for the poor chap, my dear. He seemed most anxious to see the child +comfortably settled. His sister is a scrub-woman in the Metropolitan +Life Building. It appears that she has been supplying families with +children for the past ten or twelve years. Her husband is a most +unfeeling brute. He says that the babies interfere with her work, and +so she has to either give them up altogether or let the charity +institutions take care of 'em for her. She goes on faithfully having +'em every year, and he goes on objecting to them. Swanson says she has +managed to keep two of the older ones, but the last five or six she +has been obliged to dispose of. Now, this new one is a bright little +thing, he says--quite the flower of the flock. The woman's husband, it +seems, has been out of work for seven years, and curses dreadfully +about the child. The poor woman spoke to Swanson last week, asking him +to see if we wouldn't take this one to raise. Swanson is sure that if +we took it now we could be practically certain that it would never +acquire the Swedish dialect. Of course--" + +"You did not give him any encouragement, did you, Tom?" she cried +sharply. + +"Well, not--er--exactly," he said, looking away. + +"Well, don't!" she exclaimed. "You know I have my heart set on having +a French baby next." + +"So you have," he said brightly. "I'll not forget it, my dear. As a +matter of fact, I spoke to Rouquin, our foreign exchange manager, +about it not long ago. He is quite French, my dear. He says there will +be no trouble about it. It will be no trick at all to get a French +baby. He says he already knows of a half-dozen actual descendants of +the nobility, aged from one year up to ten, any one of which we can +call our own by simply saying the word." + +"He shall be called Richelieu. Dick for short," mused Mrs. Bingle. + +"I thought we contemplated a girl," said he. + +"It is always possible for us to change our minds, isn't it, Tom?" + +"Certainly, my dear. We'll have a boy if you like. In a pinch, we can +always change the gender at the last minute. Let's not give it another +thought. I'll take it up with Rouquin the first time I'm in town. As +for Swanson's sister's child--well, never mind. We sha'n't have it. He +says its name is Ole at present but I suppose it could be called +Richelieu if taken in time. Still that's neither here nor there. I've +been thinking lately, my dear, that we ought to call our next boy +Joseph--after his grand-uncle, don't you see. We owe that much to poor +old Uncle Joe. Will you bear it in mind?" + +"We COULD call the next one Josephine," she said. + +He grinned. "Uncle Joe would turn over in his grave," said he. + +That evening Mr. Force telephoned to Seawood. + +"That you, Bingle?" came in rather muffled tones over the wire. + +"Yes, this is Mr. Bingle." + +"This is Force. We are sailing to-morrow for--" + +"I can't hear you. Stand a little closer to the 'phone, please." + +"I say we are sailing to-morrow for Europe. I'm standing close to it, +Bingle. There's some one in the next booth. I can't yell, you know. I--" + +"Where are you?" + +"At the Plaza. I just wanted to tell you that I've fixed everything up +with the detective agency. Not a word of that little matter will ever +become public. Their lips have been sealed." + +Mr. Bingle's heart swelled. "Do you mean that the matter is--er-- +permanently closed? Are you going to let me keep her?" + +"Certainly NOT! What kind of a father do you think I am? Now I'll tell +you what I want you to do. I want you to be particularly careful about +that child while I'm away. Don't let anything happen to her. Take the +best of care of her, Bingle. I shall hold you personally responsible. +And see here, there's another point on which I want to be especially +firm. I don't want her to be thrown with the other children any more +than can be helped. I--What's that?" + +"Nothing. Go on." + +"Some of those kids of yours are not precisely what I would call +thoroughbred. See what I mean? No reflection, of course, Bingle. I +wouldn't say this if they were your own, understand, but--well, +they're not, so that's all there is to it. I shall have to ask you to +engage a special companion for Kathleen, and I have arranged with a +Madame Dufresne to--" + +"See here, Force, I--" + +"--to call on you this week. She is an excellent woman, refined and a +lady of very good family in France. She is a friend of Rouquin's, in +the bank. He knew the family in Paris. I took the liberty of telling +him that you wanted to engage a French LADY to act as companion to +your eldest child. I trust you will see to it that Kathleen is not +allowed to romp about with the rest of those--er--the other children. +This Madame Dufresne will--What's that?" + +Mr. Bingle had recovered his breath. His voice was high and shrill +with indignation. + +"You will oblige me, Force, by permitting me to run my household as I +see fit. If this Madame What's-her-name comes out here to see me, I +shall pack her off to town again so quick her head will swim. We have +brought Kathleen up as if she was our own child, sir, and I don't care +to have any suggestions from you, sir. What's more, I must say-- +although it's against the rules of the telephone company--you are a +damned fine man to be giving advice to me about the raising of your +child. You--" + +"Sh! For heaven's sake, Bingle, don't shout like that! Be careful, +man!" + +"Well, you leave Kathleen to me, that's all I've got to say. She shall +play with the rest of the children as much as she likes, Force. So far +as we are concerned, she's no better than the rest of them, understand +that, sir. She isn't going to be contaminated a darned bit more than +she was before you discovered that she was yours. And, as for that, +she isn't yours until I see fit to give her up. Understand that, too. +Now, if--wait a minute! I'm still talking. Now, if you think you can +give me any pointers on how to bring up children I want to say to you +that you are barking up the wrong tree. Don't you dare to send that +woman here, and don't you dare to dictate to me how--" + +"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Bingle," came Mr. Force's agitated +voice through the transmitter. "For heaven's sake, don't fly off the +handle like this. I--I thought I was acting for the best interests of +every one. I was only trying to help you out in--" + +"I don't need any help," said Mr. Bingle crisply. "Have you told your +wife?" + +"Yes, I have," said Force. "That's--that's why we are going abroad for +a few months. She--" + +"Mrs. Bingle was right, then. She usually is. What is her attitude?" + +"Devilish bad, Bingle--devilish, that's all I can say. I can't talk to +you over the telephone about it. I'll--I'll write you from Paris. I'm +--I'm working with her, that's all I can do at present. I believe +she'll come around all right in the end. I'm sure she will. I'll--I'll +let you know." + +"Says she won't have the brat in her house, is that it?" said Mr. +Bingle, with a queer rasp in his voice. + +"I can't talk to you over the telephone. Didn't you hear me say so a +minute ago?" + +"You can say yes or no, can't you?" + +"She's pretty much upset over the business." + +"Speak up! I can't hear you." + +"I'll drop you a line in the morning. Now, Bingle, you will take good +care of the child, won't you. She--" + +"I shall take good care of all of them, Force." + +"And now about this Madame Du--" + +"She is out of the question, Force. Good night!" + +"Just as you say, old man. I sha'n't insist if you are opposed to--" + +"Good night!" + +"But I will feel a great deal easier in my mind if she isn't allowed +to come in contact with the rest--" + +Mr. Bingle hung up the receiver. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE + + +The Forces returned from Europe late in February. They cut their visit +short because Mr. Force's jubilant cablegram to Mr. Bingle drew from +its recipient a reply so curt and effective that there could be no +mistaking his stand in the matter of Kathleen. + +Toward the end of the first week in February, Mr. Force cabled: +"Everything smoothed out. Rejoice. Wife keen about K. Insists on +having her with us over here. Send her over at once with Dufresne. +Never was so happy in my life. Force." + +The reply was: "Come and get her, but bring your wife with you. +Bingle." + +"I am not sure that I trust Force," said Mr. Bingle to his wife as +they discussed the banker's message. "Like as not he wants to get the +child over in Europe and leave her there with strangers until she +grows up, or something of the sort. What proof have we that he has +told his wife? How do we know that she is keen about Kathie? She never +has been. As a matter of fact, she brags about her hatred for +children. Openly says she despises 'em. Prefers her dogs and cats, and +all such rubbish as that. No, sir, Mary; I don't pack Kathie off with +a strange Frenchwoman, destined for heaven knows what, and that's all +there is to it. The thing looks fishy to me. Maybe it's, a plot--a +dark, cruel plot to get the child out of the country. If he wants me +to believe that Mrs. Force is keen about Kathie, she'll have to say so +herself, in so many words, and, blame me, Mary, I don't believe I'll +let her say 'em by telegraph either." + +"But he is the president of the bank, Thomas," said Mrs. Bingle, as if +that were all that was necessary to put him above suspicion. + +"I am not dealing with the president of the bank, my dear," said Mr. +Bingle stiffly. "I am dealing with my next door neighbour, and I have +a mighty poor opinion of him. The boy is waiting. I'll just write an +answer to his cablegram and get it off at once." + +The day after they landed in New York, Mr. and Mrs. Force paid a +formal visit to the Bingle mansion. They came out from town by motor, +arriving at four in the afternoon. Mr. Bingle was expecting them. They +had telephoned, saying they could stay but a short time and made it +quite clear that it wouldn't be necessary to serve tea. They were +staying in town for a few days before going on to Florida. + +At five o'clock they motored swiftly away from Seawood. The ordeal was +over. Kathleen was to go to Mr. and Mrs. Force. The wife of a "man +called Hinman" was to mother the child of Agnes Glenn. + +It was to be very simple and easy for the Forces; like their kind, +they left the hard part of the bargain to Mr. Bingle. He was to tell +Kathleen of the great change that was soon to take place in her life. +He was to tell the happy, loving little girl that she was no longer to +call him daddy, that she was to go and live with the man she feared +and disliked. That was the part of the bargain left to the one who +loved her best of all and who would not have given her an instant's +pain for all the world. He was to deliver her, with scant excuse or +explanation, into the hands of strangers--cold, unfeeling strangers. +It would be the same as saying to the child that he did not care for +her any longer, that he did not love her, that he was willing to give +her up to Mr. Force without so much as a pang of regret. For he could +NOT tell her the truth. She was never to know about the carbolic acid +and the days of starvation. She was only to know that Mr. Force was to +be her daddy from this time forward and that Mr. Bingle could never be +anything more to her than Uncle Tom. + +But after he told her, he cried.... Still, they were not to take her +away until the end of the week, and that was five days off. + +An unsuspected astuteness in the character of Thomas Singleton Bingle +reveals itself in the declaration, now to be made for the first time +in this present history of the man: he never allowed his wards to look +upon themselves as his own children. They were taught to call him +daddy and to look upon him as a substitute supplied by God to take the +place of a real father, and by the same token Mrs. Bingle became +mother to the brood, but they were safe-guarded against the surprise +and shock of future revelations--revelations that so frequently spoil +the lives of those who have lived in happy ignorance. Mr. Bingle, +gentle soul that he was, had the heart to look ahead in this pleasant +game of his. He saw the cruelty of a too loving deception. He foresaw +the desolating results of a too great faith in chance. So his children +were taught to regard him in the light of a protector who was +satisfied to have them feel that he was under obligations to them +instead of the other way round. It was his joy to be called daddy, and +in return for this simple tribute he lavished upon them all the love +and tenderness of a true father and a great deal of the consideration +that a child deserves, but seldom gets, from its own pre-occupied and +self-satisfied parent. + +Kathleen knew that she was not the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. +She had always known that she was the daughter of a Mr. and Mrs. +Hinman, both deceased. In the case of Reginald--and, in a way, Harold +also--there was some uncertainty. As the former advanced in years and +characteristics, it became more and more apparent to Mr. Bingle that +his fifth-born was not of Italian descent, despite the fact that the +authorities at the Foundlings' Home had him down on the records as the +offspring of a Mr. and Mrs. Vanesi, lost in one of the factory fires +in the city of Brooklyn. Mr. Bingle was convinced, as time went on, +that the tags on certain infants had been accidentally misplaced by +careless attendants, and that Reginald's nick-name, bestowed by +Frederick and Wilberforce in their frivolous wisdom, was not so far +out of the way as it might have seemed if he had not been possessed of +his own vague misgivings. They called him Abey. As for Harold, he was +unmistakably Irish, although the hospital people declared that he was +German to the core when Mr. and Mrs. Bingle went there to pick out a +healthy Teuton to add to their collection. They were positive that +they wanted a German baby; nothing else would do, they announced +clearly and positively to the superintendent in charge of the +maternity ward. The superintendent was most gracious about it. She +said they could return little Fritz if he didn't come up to the mark +in every particular. What more could a German fancier desire than a +child whose name alone stood for all that one could possibly seek in +Teutonic research? Fritz Bumbleburg:--that was the infant's name and +his father's name before him. Surely Mr. Bingle wouldn't demand +anything more German than that. Moreover, Fritz's mother was German- +American and she had been the wife of Fritz's father for a matter of +five years or more. Still, in spite of all this, Fritz (re-christened +Harold while he was still too young to raise a voice in protest) was +unmistakably Irish, or at least part Irish. It is also worthy of note +that Mrs. Bumbleburg ran away with an Irish policeman some weeks after +the infant Fritz's advent into the world, which would go to show that +the mother, at any rate, had Celtic inclinations if nothing more. + +Kathleen took it very hard at first. She was inconsolable until the +desperate Bingle began to dilate upon the wonders of Florida. Miss +Fairweather was called in to corroborate all that they had to say +about the gorgeousness of that southern fairyland, and as a group they +did very well when one stops to consider that not one of them had ever +been south of Washington, D. C. The child cheered up a bit. She began +to take some interest in the matter of dress. Following that, she +revealed considerable enthusiasm over the prospect of going south in a +private car with a personal maid of her own, and could have a change +of frock twice a day for a week at a stretch, to say nothing of being +allowed to eat in the public dining-car if it pleased her to do so. +That thing of eating in the dining-car was a master-stroke on the part +of Bingle. It was the greatest inducement he could have offered to the +child in support of the claim that she ought to be the happiest +creature on earth, going away with Mr. and Mrs. Force like this. + +Frederick and Wilberforce openly declared--in the presence of Mr. and +Mrs. Bingle--that you bet they'd go in a minute if they had the chance +to see the land where Melissa's pirates and smugglers did most of +their plundering--an attitude that created an unhappy half-hour for +Melissa later on in the day. Any one else but Melissa would have +received her walking-papers. + +The frocks, the personal maid, the prospect of the dining-car and the +assurance that it wouldn't be necessary to call Mr. Force "daddy" +until she became a little more accustomed to seeing him around, +brought Kathleen to a proper way of thinking. She became quite eager +to go! + +"Well," said Mr. Bingle to his wife, after the storm, "I fancy we'd +better make an appointment with Rouquin as soon as possible. I am +really quite enthusiastic, my dear, over that idea of yours to have a +cute little French baby. The sooner we get it the better, I say. It is +going to be pretty lonesome for awhile. Somehow I hope we find one +that cries a good deal. It would cheer us up considerably, I'm sure, +if we had something like that to annoy us, especially at night. We +shall probably lie awake anyhow." + +Frederick was causing them no little anxiety. The boy wasn't eating +well. He was beginning to look a bit peaked. Dr. Fiddler was puzzled. +He could not discover anything wrong, and yet could not account for +the listlessness that had come over the lad during the past few weeks. + +As a matter of fact, Frederick was in love--quite desperately in love. +The object of his adoration was the beautiful Miss Fairweather. No +doctor in the world could have properly diagnosed the youngster's +case, for the simple reason that Frederick's disease was a perfectly +healthy one, and when you confront a doctor with anything in the +nature of health you stump him completely. He doesn't know what to do +about it. Nevertheless, Dr. Fiddler--being a great man and entirely +ignorant of Frederick's complaint--gave him castor oil. + +Now this same Dr. Fiddler undoubtedly had been in love at the tender +age of twelve. What man is there to-day who was not desperately +afflicted at that age, and who is there among us that has forgotten +the experience? Who is there among us, past the age of thirty, who +cannot tell without an instant's hesitation, the name of the mature +young lady who first assailed his susceptibilities? Who can honestly +say that he doesn't remember the school-teacher, or the choir-singer +who taught the Sunday-school class, or the lady who came to visit +mother and went away engaged to a friend of father's, or the nurse who +queened it over the house when mother was ill and who devoted entirely +too much time to the new baby? There is always one full-grown, +lamentably old young lady in the life of every boy, and her name is +imperishable. It is invariably MISS Somebody-or-other. No man can +recall the Christian name of his first love for the very good reason +that he never knew it. The universal lady is always MISS So-and-so. +Even the most ardent of twelve-year-olds never forgets that his +heart's desire is a lady whose years demand the most respectful +consideration. Dr. Fiddler, having loved and lost, should have +appreciated the tender passion that took away Frederick's appetite and +made of him a melancholy sufferer. What Frederick needed was the moral +support of a physician who would recommend and supply a quick and +deadly poison with which Mr. Richard Flanders could be permanently +squashed. + +Melissa was his only friend and comforter. The children, and the +servants who were not too busily engaged with their own affairs, +openly scoffed at the love-sick young gentleman. Wilberforce sustained +a bloody nose in retaliation and Watson, being a special offender, met +with a painful and unaccountable accident one day while passing +between the kitchen and the milk-house. A full-sized brick dropped +from heaven knows where--(it must have come from heaven judging by the +way it felt)--and as Watson's hat happened to be directly in the path +of its descent the unfortunate footman was unable to tease Frederick +for the better part of two days immediately thereafter and had to have +six stitches taken in his head besides. Oddly enough, the only place +from which a brick was found to be missing was in the walk leading to +the stables, and Butts, being a thrifty soul, filled up the vacant +spot with the heaven-sent substitute, having found on investigation +that it fitted the vacuum perfectly. It was Melissa who kept Watson +from taking out a warrant for young Master Frederick. She spoke very +sharply to the damaged footman about something that had completely +escaped the notice of Mr. Bingle, who, being no smoker, wouldn't have +missed them if Watson had taken a whole handful of cigars a day +instead of two or three twice a week the year round. + +The privileged maid had read love stories from the time she was ten +years old up to the beginning of her affair with Diggs the butler. The +pleasant discovery that the mighty Diggs had taken a shine to her +quite destroyed all of her interest in romance as it is written. She +was not long in finding out that the people who write love-stories are +not to be depended upon for accuracy in the depiction of passion. +Diggs gave her an entirely new idea of manly devotion. Instead of +adhering to the well-known and well-preserved formulas set down by the +fictionists he behaved in a perfectly astonishing manner. He became +acutely bashful and apprehensive, so much so, in fact, that for a +while Melissa imagined that Mr. Bingle had given him notice because of +the mistletoe episode on Christmas Eve. The poor fellow seemed to be +dodging her all the time. And when she came upon him suddenly or +unexpectedly he always began winding his watch and talking about the +extraordinary resemblance she bore to a girl he had once known in +England. The shock, therefore, was tremendous when Diggs asked her if +she thought she could ever learn to care for him in THAT way. It was +almost a week before Melissa could think of an answer to this +astonishing question. It was "yes." + +And so, having but recently suffered the surprise of her life, Melissa +rushed to the succour of young Frederick. She whispered words of +encouragement into the ear of the despairing youngster, and urged him +to stand by his guns. + +"You never can tell what is going to happen," she said. "Look at me, +for instance. What could have been more miraculous than the thing that +happened to me, Freddie? Who could have ever dreamed of Mr. Diggs +falling in love with me? An important person like him falling heels +over head in love with the likes of me! Can you beat it? Well, that's +what I mean when I say you never can tell. You just keep a stiff upper +lip, Freddie--and grow a little, of course--and it wouldn't surprise +me in the least if you conquered the proud Miss Fairweather's haughty +heart. Nothing--NOTHING on God's earth would surprise me now. Go in +and win, Freddie. Of course, she is about twelve years older'n you are +at present, but as time goes on she'll be getting younger. We always +do. By the time you are thirty you will have caught up to her, I can +tell you that. Take Mr. Diggs, for instance; he thinks I am only +twenty-six. He says it's a crime for a man of his age--he's thirty- +seven--to be making eyes at a soft young thing like me. He knows I'm +only twenty-six, but what he don't know is that I was born nearly ten +years before he even starts to counting. Now, in a very few years you +will be twenty. Well, by that time she will be only eight years older +than you are. You see, women don't put on years as rapidly as men. +It's a peculiar trick of nature. I don't suppose there is another +living creature in all God's dominion that lives as long as a woman +does before it can get past thirty. Take Miss Stokes, the nurse, for +instance. She's been nearly nine years going from twenty-seven to +twenty-nine. So there you are. You just keep on growing up, Freddie-- +you needn't hurry, either--putting on a year every twelve months, and +before you know it you'll be six months older than Miss Fairweather. +Then--" + +"Yes, but how about this big Flanders?" protested Frederick. "He's +already grown-up and--" + +"Nothing to it," said Melissa, "He hasn't got any money. He can't give +her diamonds and fine raiment. He's got to ask her to wait till he's +able to marry, hasn't he? Well, while she's about it, why shouldn't +she wait for you? It all amounts to the same thing. You'll be able to +marry her just as soon as he is. Now, don't be discouraged. Cheer up." + +"You're awfully good, Melissa," said Frederick gloomily. + +"And what's more, don't let 'em guy you about her. Mr. Diggs don't let +any one guy him about me, you can bet. And say, if you can manage to +sneak one of Mr. Bingle's razors out of his room some day, I'll shave +you. There's nothing like getting your whiskers started early." + +"Gee, Melissa, will you?" + +"Like a shot. Let me feel your chin. Why, I swear to goodness, there's +something there already. It's--" + +"Honest, Melissa? Do you really mean it? I thought it was only fuzz." + +"Fuzz your granny," said Melissa stoutly. "In a couple of months you +could get a beard like a billy goat if you shaved regular." + +"I don't want chin whiskers. I want a moustache." + +"And in the meantime," went on Melissa with rare diplomacy, "you may +see some one else that you like better than Miss Fairweather. That +very frequently happens to a fellow when he's busy trying to get a +beard." + +"Do you think she likes Mr. Flanders, Melissa?" A great deal depended +on her answer. That was to be seen by the expression in his young blue +eyes. + +"Certainly," said she promptly. "Everybody likes him. I like him. So +does your ma and so does your pa. That's nothing to go by. Why, I'll +bet you like him yourself. He's a fine fellow." + +"Do you think he's very good looking?" + +"In a way, yes," said Melissa, musingly. "I shouldn't call him quite +perfect, however." + +"Do you think he's as good-looking as Diggs?" + +"I used to think so, but--Now, that reminds me: if you ever say a word +to anybody about Mr. Diggs and me being enamoured of each other, I'll +have nothing more to do with you--not a thing, d'you understand? It's +a secret. Your pa and ma are not to know about it until we get ready +to announce our engagement." + +"I'll never tell," promised the young lover. + +"And here's another thing: Don't you ever let on to Mr. Diggs that I'm +over twenty-six. If you do, I'll tell your pa that you're using his +razor, and--well, say, that would be a mortification for you. Miss +Fairweather would never get over laughing at you. Do you know, I'm +awfully sorry for Mr. Flanders. He is a fine fellow, and it will break +his heart if you get her away from him, Freddie. It seems too bad for +a rich young gentleman like you to be pitted against a poor, +struggling newspaper man whose heart is afire with--" + +"Oh, gee, Melissa, don't talk like that," cried Frederick in distress. +"I DO like him, and I don't want him to ever be unhappy." + +"That's the way to talk," she cried warmly. "That's regular nobility. +Let's give him an equal chance, Freddie. If he can win, all well and +good. We'll take our medicine. If he loses, why he can take his." + +"I wish I was as old as he is," mourned Frederick. + +"Poor fellow," sighed Melissa, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. +"I DO feel sorry for him. I hate to see a fine, honourable gentleman's +heart busted as you are likely to bust his for--" + +"Oh, goodness!" gulped Frederick, his soul filled with pity for the +unfortunate Flanders. He suppressed a sniffle, and then, after a +moment consumed in re-ordering his emotions, went on brightly: "Of +course, if she loves him, Melissa, I shall be the first to wish him +joy. That's the kind of fellow I am." + +"I wonder," mused Melissa, "if that's the kind of a fellow he'd be if +some other fellow won his lady love away from him in a fair contest?" + +It so happened that Mr. Flanders placed a diamond-ring upon the third +finger of Miss Fairweather's left hand that same afternoon, and it +also happened that the starry-eyed young lady submitted to a tender +embrace immediately afterward. But a fortnight passed before +Frederick, pale and wan with the anguish that lay in his young soul, +could command the courage to go up to his big rival and wish him joy. +For two weeks his heart had bled, for, be it also recorded, young +Frederick happened to be lurking unseen in the library when the ring +was passed. He saw the big man take the slim, adored princess in his +arms, and he saw her face upturned to greet the lips that came down to +meet her's in--Alas! Poor Frederick! + +Right bravely he accosted Mr. Flanders one day as the brisk young man +came swinging up the drive on his way from the railway station. +Flanders usually came at three in the afternoon. This habit was known +to Frederick. He also knew that the tall conqueror spent an hour with +Mr. Bingle before Miss Fairweather descended from the school-room. In +fact, every movement of Mr. Flanders from the instant he appeared on +the estate to the moment he left it in a dash for the train, was known +to the small victim of the green-eyed devil. + +On this momentous occasion he resolutely laid in wait for Mr. Flanders +near the lodge-gates. He had steeled himself against the bitterest +moment in his life. + +"Hello," he said, suddenly stepping out of the shrubbery and +confronting the pedestrian, who brought himself up with a jerk. + +"Hello," said Richard. "Getting the air?" + +"I want to speak to you, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick, with immense +gravity. + +"Come along then, lad, because I'm in a rush. I have to catch the +five-ten in to-day." + +"I wish you wouldn't take such long steps." Flanders obligingly +reduced his stride so that the boy was not forced to run to keep up +with him. "I cut lessons, sir, to have a word with you. I just want to +wish you good luck and joy, Mr. Flanders. You have won the heart and +hand of the fairest lady in the land." + +Flanders stopped in his tracks. "I say, youngster, that's--that's +corking of you." He was blushing. "I had no idea that you children +were on to us, so to speak. Thank you, Freddie." + +"I have been on to you, Mr. Flanders, from the beginning. She is the +loveliest lady--" he swallowed hard--"in the world, and I just wanted +to tell you that if you don't treat her well I'll--I'll--well, you'll +see." + +Flanders was not smiling. He understood boys. He laid his big hand on +the little fellow's sturdy shoulder and said, very seriously: + +"I consider myself most fortunate, old chap, in having the advantage +of you in years. If you were my own age, I should have stood small +chance of winning the loveliest lady in the world. Shake hands, +Freddie. I shall treat her well, my lad. If I fail in any particular I +hope you'll take a shot at me on sight. I'm sorry, too, my boy." + +"That's all right, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick bravely. "I bend the +knee to a worthy rival, sir. I--I--" The words trailed off into +indistinct murmurings, for he had completely forgotten the rest of the +high-sounding sentences supplied for this very encounter by the +helpful Melissa. She had written them out for him and he had learned +them by heart. And now they failed him! + +Flanders allowed his grip to tighten on the boy's shoulder. "You will +get over it, Freddie. I had a similar affliction when I was your age. +It was pretty rough, but I pulled through." + +"I shall never love any one else, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick +solemnly. "I shall never be untrue to her." + +"Well, it's fine of you to take it in such a manly fashion, old chap. +It's great. Not many fellows could have done what you've done. I'm +sure I couldn't. It took grit to come out here and tell me this. Shake +hands again, my boy. And I now promise that I shall keep her happy if +it lies in the power of a human being to do so. You may depend upon +it, Freddie." + +"Thank you, Mr. Flanders. I have great confidence in you. I trust you. +If you should ever require the support of a strong and willing +henchman in time of dire trouble or conflict with merciless-- +merciless--" He stopped in distress. Once more Melissa's well-turned +sentences went back on him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember +the all-important noun. + +"Scoundrels," supplied Mr. Flanders kindly. + +"No, that isn't the word," said Frederick, thinking hard. "Merciless-- +merciless--Oh, yes--renegades! If you should ever require the support +of a strong and--" + +"All right," cried Flanders. "I understand. I'll call on you, you may +be sure." + +"There was something more I wanted to say, but the--the words don't +seem to come as they ought to." + +"It's this beastly weather," said Flanders. "I never can think well in +cold weather. I seem to freeze up." + +Frederick was relieved. "I guess maybe that's it. When are you going +to marry her?" The last was a genuine, unrehearsed inquiry and +completely summed up the situation so far as he was concerned. + +"It isn't quite settled. A great deal depends on circumstances." + +"Money?" + +"In a way, yes." + +"What does she say about it? Is she willing to wait eight or ten years +for you?" + +"She says she will wait forever," said Flanders, a bit puzzled by the +new turn. + +"Well, that's all right, then," said Frederick and to Richard's +amazement he squared his shoulders and heaved a long sigh, as of +relief. "Excuse me, please, I've got to hustle. Melissa--" He stopped +in painful confusion. It had been on the tip of his ingenuous tongue +to blurt out something that would have spoiled all that had gone +before. It had to do with Melissa's present whereabouts and her oft- +repeated claim that if Flanders kept Miss Fairweather waiting long +enough he'd lose her, sure as a shot! + +An amazing thing happened to Frederick that evening, just before +bedtime. Miss Fairweather kissed him sweetly, not once but thrice, +full on the lips, and told him that he was the nicest little boy in +all the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON + + +Mr. Bingle saw Monsieur Rouquin again. The excellent manager of the +foreign exchange assured the vice-president that he could now +guarantee to procure the most adorable of French infants at a moment's +notice, an infant that he could personally recommend in every +particular. + +"Sir," said Monsieur Rouquin, "it is impossible to imagine a more +perfect child, let alone to create one. I have seen thousands, +millions of babies, M'sieur Bangle, but not one so--" + +"Bingle," corrected the vice-president. + +"It is my abominable, unpardonable dialect," deplored Rouquin, who +spoke English without a flaw. "Millions of babes have I seen, but not +one so wonderful as this one. It is a--ah--it is a perfect specimen +of--" + +"You say 'it,' Rouquin. Am I to understand that its gender is unknown +to you?" + +"No, no!" cried Rouquin. "To be sure I know the sex of this adorable +infant. I know the parents--" + +"What is it? A boy or a girl?" + +Rouquin closed an eye slowly. "Ah, M'sieur Bang--Bingle, may I not +leave the question of sex to the child itself? What could be more +beautiful than to present to your notice a perfect example of +humanity, without uttering a single word to aid you in your +speculation as to the gender, and then to sit calmly back and relish +the joy you will reveal when you find that you have guessed correctly +the very first time, as the boys would say? That would be the +magnificent compensation to me. You will need but one glance at this +wonderful specimen. One glance will be sufficient. You will instantly +exclaim: 'What a monstrous fine boy--or girl!' as the case may be. +Ah, sir--" + +"I must have a boy," said Mr. Bingle. + +Monsieur Rouquin looked relieved. He permitted a roguish light to +steal into his eyes. "I still implore you to keep your mind open, Mr. +Bingle, until you have seen the child I have in mind. Permit me this +little, silly, boyish pleasure, sir--the pleasure of hearing you +exclaim--out of a clear sky, so to say--'Ah, what a monstrous fine--'" + +"All right, Rouquin," broke in Mr. Bingle. "Only I warn you that if it +isn't a boy, it will be a case of love's labour lost on your part." + +"M'sieur, I beg your pardon," said Rouquin, a trifle stiffly. "Does +M'sieur mean to imply--to insinuate that--" + +"Nothing of the kind," said Mr. Bingle hastily. "It's a saying of +Shakespeare, Rouquin. Of course, love's labour is never really lost. +It's a figure of speech." + +"Ah!" said Monsieur Rouquin, smiting himself on the forehead. "I +should have known. Have I no brain? Listen! I tap my head. Does it not +give out a hollow sound, as if entirely empty? Say yes, my dear sir. I +shall not be offended. To have misinterpreted the polite--Ah, but, it +is of no consequence. Pray proceed, sir." "Proceed?" muttered Mr. +Bingle, frowning. "There's nothing more to the quotation, Rouquin, so +far as I know. Merely 'love's labour lost,' no more. But I would like +to ask a question or two. Are the parents of this child quite +respectable people?" Rouquin rolled his eyes upward. "Utterly," he +said, with deep feeling in his voice. + +"Healthy?" + +"Parfaitment!" + +"What does that mean?" + +"Perfectly, my dear Mr. Bingle." + +"Oh! And are they married?" + +"Mon dieu!" cried Rouquin, turning scarlet. "Absolutely, sir-- +incontestably." + +"I mean, to each other." + +"Monsieur jests," was all that Rouquin could say. He wiped his brow, +however. + +"Well, when may we see the child? When can we talk it over with the +parents?" + +"That is for you to say, sir." + +"To-morrow afternoon?" + +"I shall so arrange it, sir. Will not you and Madame Bang--Bingle +honour me with your presence at a little tea-room--quite an excellent +and refined place that I know of--before we go to inspect the child? +It will give me the greatest pleasure if--" + +"See here, Rouquin, that's most kind of you, but I'd prefer to have +you take tea with Mrs. Bingle and me. Do you know of a nice, but +thoroughly typical French restaurant where we could--er--get a bit of +the atmosphere, don't you know? We are figuring on taking a trip to +Paris soon and we'd like to--well, you know what I mean? Quiet, +respectable place, you know. Nothing rowdyish." + +Rouquin's eyes sparkled. His joy was great. "Ah, I know of such a +place. But it is not a tea-room, in the strict sense of the term. It +is a cafe where one has the finest table d'hote dinner in all New York +for one dollar per person, wine included. Ah, if Monsieur would only +condescend to dine there, AFTER we have seen the child, I am sure--" + +"I'll telephone you in the morning," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes +gleaming. "I shall have to speak to Mrs. Bingle about it first." + +It was left that they were to visit the infant and its utterly +respectable parents at four on the following afternoon. Rouquin had +already assured Mr. Bingle that only the direst necessity made it +possible for the wretched father and mother to even THINK of giving up +their greatest treasure, this marvellous infant. In fact, it was only +because they loved the child so dearly that they were content to see +it pass out of their lives. For, said Monsieur Rouquin, they were so +poor and so proud that suicide was the only thing left for them in +this terrific struggle with adversity, and what was to become of the +child if they killed themselves? They would not murder their adored +one, and, while it was quite possible for the father and mother to +destroy themselves, one really couldn't expect a fifteen months old +child to take its own life by involuntary starvation--which was +unspeakable. And, said he, they couldn't consider suicide without +first making sure that their beloved was safely provided for. After +that--well, they could then go about it quite happily, if needs be. +Mr. Bingle was deeply distressed. + +Rouquin had quite a surprise for them when they called at the bank for +him. As he settled himself gracefully in the seat beside Mrs. Bingle, +he announced that he had arranged with the heart-sick parents to fetch +the babe to his humble apartment at half-past four, where at least one +could be sure of avoiding the unfriendly presence of a too-persistent +rent-collector, to say nothing of the distressing odours of extreme +poverty. Indeed, said Monsieur Rouquin, it was not improbable that +they might find the excellent Rousseaus in the apartment on their +arrival there, as he had given directions to the janitor to admit them +without question. He couldn't bear the thought of poor little Madame +Rousseau standing outside in the cold hall with that adorable infant +in imminent peril of freezing to death because of insufficient +apparel. + +"Are they descendants of the great genre painter?" inquired Mrs. +Bingle. There was a small painting by the great Barbizon artist in the +Bingle drawing-room. She had been reading up on Rousseau, and Miss +Fairweather had told her how to pronounce genre. + +"That I cannot affirm, Madame," said Rouquin, with infinite regret in +his voice. "It is possible, even probable, that Monsieur Rousseau is a +direct descendant, but I am not in a position to say so with +authority. I shall make it a point to repeat your question to him." + +"It would be most interesting to have a descendant of Rousseau in the +same house with one of his masterpieces, and under the conditions we +face, don't you think, Mr. Rouquin?" Mrs. Bingle had never been quite +secure in her pronunciation of monsieur, so she avoided the word. + +Monsieur Rouquin agreed that it would be amazingly interesting, and +then went on to say that he had known Madame Rousseau while she was +still petite Marie Vallamont, but his acquaintance with her husband +was of short duration. In fact, he knew little about him except that +his great grandfather had been beheaded at the time of the revolution, +which was in itself sufficient proof that he was descended from the +aristocracy if not the nobility of France. + +"You are aware, of course," said he, "that only the aristocracy had +their heads cut off during those eventful days." + +"Oh, yes, indeed," said both Mr. and Mrs. Bingle so promptly that +Monsieur Rouquin at once changed the subject. He realised that they +knew quite as much if not more of French history than he. + +As he had suspected, the Rousseaus were awaiting them in the +apartment. They were very nice looking young people, rather shabbily +attired in garments which, though clearly the cast-off apparel of more +prosperous owners, were still neat and remotely fashionable. Madame +Rousseau was quite a pretty woman, with a soft, restrained voice and a +tendency to say "Oui, Madame," with great frequency and politeness. +Her husband, poor as he was, sustained the credit of aristocracy by +smoking innumerable cigarettes, with which he appeared to be most +plentifully supplied. "You found my cigarettes, I see. That is good," +said Rouquin, shortly after the introductions. He spoke somewhat +tartly, as if an idea had just occurred to him. He shot a furtive +glance at Mr. Bingle as he made the remark. + +"Oh, yes," said Rousseau, after an instant's hesitation. "I beg +Madame's pardon. Does the smoking annoy?" + +"Not at all," said Mrs. Bingle. "I am used to it. Mr. Bingle smokes a +pipe." + +"Well, where is the baby?" said Mr. Bingle, declining the cigarette +which Rousseau proffered in the absence of hospitality on Monsieur +Rouquin's part. + +"Oh," said Madame Rousseau, "it sleeps. I have put it into Monsieur +Raoul's warm bed. Such a cruelty it would be to awake the baby, +M'sieur." + +"I think I'd like to see what it looks like while asleep, Madame," +said Bingle, with the air of a shrewd bargainer. "You see, I've become +quite an expert on babies. I don't believe there is a better judge of +--I beg your pardon. I forgot to inquire if my English is quite +intelligible. Do you follow me?" + +"Your English is perfect, M'sieur," she assured him, brightly. "May I +say that it surprises me. I have been in your America for five years +and I have not before this hour heard an American speak the English +language so perfectly--" + +"Ahem!" coughed Rouquin, and Madame Rousseau completed her estimate of +Mr. Bingle's English by spreading her hands in a gesture which +signified utter inability to express herself in words. "Shall we peep +into my bedroom?" went on the foreign exchange manager. + +"Said the spider to the fly," came quite distinctly from Monsieur +Rousseau. + +"Remember," cautioned Rouquin, his hand on the door-knob, "you are to +guess what it is, Mr. Bingle." + +"I suppose I'm to have two guesses," said Mr. Single, with a chuckle. + +"Certainly," said Rouquin. "Provided your first guess is wrong." + +Stealthily the group entered the bedroom of Monsieur Rouquin. The +window shades were down. The room was quite dark. On the bed was a +dimly distinguishable heap. + +"Sh!" whispered Madame Rousseau, putting a finger to her lips--which +in the light of the sun were singularly red and unstarved. + +"Sh!" echoed her husband. + +"Sh!" said Rouquin. + +On tip-toe they all advanced upon the heap, now resolved into a pile +of pink blankets. Mr. Bingle leaned far over the heap. Then he put on +his spectacles. + +"Where is it?" he whispered. + +"Mon dieu!" gulped the young mother, in consternation. She whipped the +blankets off the bed. There was no baby. A second later she darted +through a door on the opposite side of the room, slamming it violently +behind her. Monsieur Rousseau started to laugh but cut it short and +sputtered Mon dieu three or four times in a choked voice. + +"What does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Bingle. "God bless my soul!" + +In the meantime, Madame Rousseau was confronting a motherly looking +person in Monsieur Rouquin's bath-room, down the little hall. The +motherly looking person was holding a fat, yellow-headed baby on her +lap and to the mouth of the fat, yellow-headed baby was attached the +business end of a half-emptied milk-bottle. + +The conversation was in whispered French, and of exceeding bitterness +on one side. It is not necessary to repeat what was said. It is only +necessary to explain that the motherly looking person was the infant's +grandmother--in fact the mother of Madame Rousseau. From certain +disjointed explanatory scraps that fell from the motherly person's +lips it might have been divined that the baby awoke some time before +the arrival of the great philanthropist, and that grandmere deemed it +to be the part of wisdom to feed it thoroughly before submitting it +for inspection. No one takes to a howling brat, she protested. +Besides, what was she there for if not to look after the child of her +ungrateful, selfish daughter who had not the slightest feeling of-- +But, all this time, Madame Rousseau was informing her mother that she +was a meddlesome, stupid old blunderer, and that the fat was in the +fire. She snatched the baby from the old lady's arms. The bottle +crashed to the tile floor and painted a section of it white, its +pristine hue. The infant was too surprised to cry. It maintained an +open-mouthed silence even as its mother whisked out of the bath-room +and brought the door to with a bang, leaving grandmere in the centre +of a pool of white, still whispering shrilly that even though a wise +father might by chance know his own son, a mother never could hope to +know her own daughter. + +Messieurs Rouquin and Rousseau were talking loudly, rapidly and very +excitedly to each other--in French, of course--when Madame burst into +the room with the infant. Mr. and Mrs. Bingle, still staring at the +unoccupied bed, had nothing but blank bewilderment in their honest +faces. + +"Ah!" shouted the two Frenchmen joyously. + +"That stupid servant!" squealed Madame Rousseau, hugging the baby to +her breast in frantic relief. "Oh, what a fright I have had. Take the +baby, Jean. Mon dieu! Do not let it fall! Oh, m'sieur, madame, you +will never know how I was anguished. I thought I had lost my darling, +my adored one. The black-hand what-you-call-him--non, non, the +kidnapper. My baby! Jean, Jean, do not let it out of your sight again +--never, do you hear. Now, madame, will you not be kind enough to look +at my baby? Come, m'sieur, to the window. Jean, pull up the shade." + +Jean almost dropped his precious burden in his eagerness to do as he +was bidden, and might actually have done so but for the timely +intervention of Monsieur Rouquin, who sprang to the window and sent +the shade up with a crash that caused Mrs. Bingle to jump with alarm. + +"See!" shouted Rouquin, stepping back and pointing proudly at the +baby. + +"God bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + +"Oh, the darling!" cried his wife, and tried at once to take the +sunny-faced youngster from the arms of Monsieur Jean. But Jean held on +very tightly, apparently awaiting orders. It may have been the unusual +fervour of the father's clasp that caused the child to whimper, or it +may have been that it never had seen such an expression in its +parent's face before. At any rate, as it looked up into Jean's swarthy +countenance it began to cry; where upon Madame Rousseau exclaimed +shrilly: + +"Can't you see, Jean? Madame would hold my baby to her breast. Quick! +You big simpleton! Ah, madame, my poor Jean is so sad, so broken- +hearted over the thought of losing his child that he--There! See! See +the lovely smile once more?" + +It was true that the instant Mrs. Bingle received the plump wriggler +in her arms, the beaming smile was restored. Jean moved quickly into +the background, and turned his miserable face away from the scene. + +The Rousseau baby WAS adorable, there could be no mistake about that. +In previous experiences, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle had encountered half- +starved, unhappy, whining infants. This was the first time they had +come upon a lusty, apparently over-fed specimen, and they were at once +filled with the joy of covetousness. Thick yellow curls, bright blue +eyes, and cheeks that would have shamed the peach's bloom--and a +nearly completed row of tiny white teeth--such was the Rousseau +applicant at first glance. Moreover, its clothing was clean, soft and +sweet-smelling of fabrics that do not often find their way into the +houses of the poverty-stricken. + +"Wait!" exclaimed Rouquin, fairly dancing with exuberant joy. "Wait! +Now, Mr. Bingle--now for the guess, sir. I give you but one guess. +What is it--a boy or a girl?" + +Madame Rousseau clasped her hands ecstatically upon her bosom. "Oh, as +if my baby could be anything but--" + +"Sh!" hissed the master of ceremonies. + +So much whirlwind excitement as all this, so much radiant joy over the +disposal of a baby, had never entered into any previous negotiation, +and Mr. Bingle was quite carried away by the novelty of the situation. +Never before had the ceremony resolved itself into an enigma, a +puzzle, so to speak, in which it was his privilege to make one guess. + +"It's a boy," said he, with conviction, whereupon the mother, the +father and Monsieur Rouquin filled the room with joyous exclamations +and the baby, imitative little beggar that he was, crowed with +delight. + +Madame Rousseau could not get over the despicable behaviour of +Rouquin's servant. She kept on berating the creature and advising +Rouquin to dismiss her, until at last Mrs. Bingle announced that the +poor thing undoubtedly had acted for the best and out of the goodness +of her heart. She also said that she would like to see the woman. + +Monsieur Rouquin being of a mind to dismiss the presumptuous domestic, +Mrs. Bingle blandly declared that, if her references were all as good +as the one Madame Rousseau was giving her, she wouldn't hesitate for +an instant to engage her to look after the child in case it joined the +Bingle collection. There were voluble protests in French from both +Madame Rousseau and Rouquin, and then Monsieur Jean announced in +English that the old servant was like a mother to Rouquin and that he +would as soon think of cutting off his right hand as to allow her to +go out of his life. Rouquin glared at him for this, and the shabby- +genteel Jean had the audacity to close one eye slowly. + +Madame Rousseau's mother was permitted to remain in the bath-room, and +no further reference was made to her. + +"Well, let's get down to business," said Mr. Bingle, presenting his +forefinger to the babe for inspection. Monsieur l'Enfant promptly +seized it and conveyed it toward his earnest mouth. "No, no!" cried +Mr. Bingle reprovingly. "Mustn't do that. Naughty, naughty! The +microbes will get you if you don't watch out. Dear me, what a strong +little rascal he is! By the way, what is his name?" + +"It has been Napoleon," said the mother. "But he can be made to forget +it, m'sieur, if you desire." + +"Napoleon Bingle," mused Mr. Bingle, and then sent a sharp, +questioning glance to his wife. She gravely nodded her head. "Not at +all bad. Ahem! Shall we return to the other room? Naturally there are +a great many questions to be asked and answered. Rouquin, will you +oblige me by getting a pad of paper and taking down all of the--er-- +statistics?" + +It developed that Napoleon Rousseau, now sitting bolt upright in Mrs. +Bingle's lap and staring wide-eyed at the interesting face of Jean +Rousseau, was a trifle over fourteen months of age, born in New York +City, the son of Jean and Marie Vallemont Rousseau, persons lawfully +wedded in the city of Paris by a magistrate--(Madame explained that +while the certificate with all of Jean's paintings had been destroyed +in the fire which wrecked their tiny apartment soon after their +arrival in New York, a copy could easily be obtained if M'sieur et +Madame insisted on going into such small details)--and of sound health +so far as could be known at this time. He had survived the heat of one +summer and had actually thrived on the frigidity of this, his second +winter, notwithstanding the fact that he had frequently slept without +covering in their poor, wind-swept attic. + +"Splendid!" said Mr. Single, casting an admiring glance at the +rubicund Napoleon. "A hardy chap, by Jove. Of course, Madame, you +understand that it will be necessary for you to appear with us before +the proper authorities and sign certain papers, and so forth, before +the baby can be legally adopted by Mrs. Bingle and myself. The law +provides that you and your husband shall release all--" + +"Mon dieu!" muttered Madame Rousseau, and as she had uttered the +expression no fewer than twenty times in the past half hour, Mrs. +Bingle was less favourably impressed with her than at the outset. To +Mrs. Bingle "Mon dieu" was blasphemy. "Is not my word sufficient, +m'sieur? I freely give my child to you. I am its mother. No one else +has a right to say what--" + +"Ah, but you forget its father," interrupted Mr. Bingle. + +"Yes," said Monsieur Jean, amiably. "Has the child's father nothing to +say about--" + +"Be quiet, Jean," broke in his wife severely. Then to Rouquin: "You +did not so inform me, M'sieur Rouquin. You told me nothing of this +going into a court or what-you-call-it. I am aghast. Why do you not +tell me of this, M'sieur Rouquin? Is it not enough that I give up my +beloved Napoleon? Am I to be humiliated by revealing my misery, my +despair--" + +"Now, now," broke in Mr. Bingle kindly, feeling extremely sorry for +the unfortunate Rouquin, who, after all, was trying to befriend the +woman. The face of the foreign exchange teller was quite livid, no +doubt from the effect of a suppressed indignation. "It is really +nothing to be worried about, Madame. We merely go before a magistrate +in Chambers and swear to certain things--both of you, of course--and +that's all there is to it. You must declare that you, as the mother of +Napoleon, voluntarily relinquish all claim to him in favour of his +foster parents, and we, in turn, swear that--well, that we will bring +him up as our own, and--er--don't you know. That's quite simple, isn't +it?" + +"Quite," said Rouquin. + +"And you, Mr. Rousseau, will be obliged to swear that you, as well as +your wife, forfeit all claim, present or future, to this child, and do +so without force or duress. Of course, I shall ask my attorney to +explain everything to both of you, so that you may not act without +complete understanding. Before we go before the Court, you will be +instructed in every move you are to make. And now, Madame, will you be +willing to take oath that you are the mother of Napoleon and as such +will henceforth cease to regard him as your son in case we conclude to +adopt him as our own?" + +Madame Rousseau looked from Jean to Rouquin and then from Rouquin to +Jean, quite helpless in the face of this requirement. Rouquin and Jean +looked at each other, and Jean's jaw was set rather hard and there was +an anxious, uncertain look in his eyes--a look not far short of being +rebellious. The young mother covered her face with her hands and began +to sob violently. For some reason, Jean's jaw relaxed. + +"Oh, my poor little Napoleon!" she moaned. "How can I give you up? My +angel Napoleon!" + +"See here," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, touched by this sudden aspect of +misery, "I'm a very tender-hearted man. If you will permit me, Madame, +I may be able to arrange a way for you and your husband to find a +means of living comfortably on good wages, and you may then be in a +position to keep little Napoleon--" + +"No, no!" cried she instantly--almost fiercely. "I could not think of +it, M'sieur. I cannot consent to any--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted Rouquin blandly. "Allow me to propose a--" + +"I shall not listen to any proposition that may include Jean and +myself in--" + +"In other words," said Rouquin, turning to Mr. Bingle, "she will not +accept charity for herself or her husband. They are very proud, Mr. +Bingle. They would die before accepting charity from--" + +"A thousand times!" blurted out Monsieur Jean, wiping his brow. "Count +me out!" + +"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + +Napoleon began to cry. He had a lusty pair of lungs. Almost instantly, +the motherly looking person appeared in the doorway. She had been +waiting for Napoleon's signal. + +"See!" she cried, holding up a bottle of milk. "I have it! To the +dairy-lunch and the chemist's I have been while--" + +Rouquin leaped forward and snatched the squalling Napoleon from Mrs. +Bingle's arms, and an instant later deposited him in those of his +maternal grandmother, who in almost the same instant was pushed rudely +out of the room. The door was quickly closed. Napoleon's howls +receded. + +"Now," said Rouquin, "we may talk in peace. My faithful old servant, +Madame," he went on, turning to Mrs. Bingle with his rarest smile. "I +do not know what I should do without her. She has gone out for the +milk and--Ah, what a treasure she is! Mon dieu, how I appreciate that +wonderful Fifi! That is her name, Madame--Fifi. Ah! Sublime--" + +"She didn't look like a servant, Mr. Rouquin," said Mrs. Bingle, +recovered from her surprise. + +"You speak of her dress, Madame? Has she not declared but now, this +instant, that she went out to the chemist's, to the dairy-lunch? Catch +Fifi on the street in her servant's dress! No, no! She spends her +wages on dress, vain creature. She would no more think of venturing +upon the street in--but, we waste time. Of what interest can be the +foibles of my poor old servant to you. Madame? Come, Marie--you see I +have known Madame Rousseau these many years, M'sieur--come, let us +assure Mr. Bingle that he need have nothing to fear if he decides to +do you--and poor old Jean here--the honour of adopting your most +fortunate baby." + +Madame Rousseau dried her eyes upon a singularly pretty little +handkerchief, and then smiled beatifically. + +"M'sieur need have no fear. I shall take the oath for my grand, my +adorable Napoleon's sake. After that, what shall I care what becomes +of me. He shall be safe. That is enough." + +"Good!" cried Mr. Bingle. Then he turned to the silent, glowering +Jean. "And you, my good man. Will you also take oath that Napoleon is +your son and that you, as his lawful father--" + +"I say, Rouquin," began Jean in a far from amiable tone. Rouquin at +once took him by the arm and led him into the bedroom, whispering +fiercely all the way. + +"My Jean is very proud," explained Madame Rousseau, dabbing her nose +and eyes with a bit of a powder rag. "He is so obstinate, too. But +M'sieur Rouquin will talk sense into his head, never fear." + +There was an awkward silence. Finally Mrs. Bingle spoke. + +"Is your husband a descendant of the painter?" + +Madame Rousseau looked surprised. + +"He IS the painter, Madame." + +"The--impossible! I refer to the great Rousseau of the 1880 school." + +"Oh, I see. No, no--he is not that one. Jean was not yet born. Mon +dieu, was there another Rousseau?" + +"There was," said Mrs. Bingle tartly. "Jean is the painter of to-day. +He is great, he is splendid, he is magnificent. But, la la! he is so +poor!" + +"That seems to establish him all right," said Mr. Bingle. + +Rouquin and Jean reappeared. Both were smiling cheerfully. Jean +affected a somewhat degage manner and a perceptible swagger. + +"Very well, M'sieur," he said. "I'll swear to it." + +"Then I shall leave the details to my attorney, who, you will +discover, is a most conscientious, dependable person. In the meantime, +when will it be convenient for Dr. Fiddler to examine Napoleon?" + +Rouquin explained at some length in rapid French, and Madame Rousseau +was once more consoled. Jean appeared to be somewhat bored. He yawned, +in fact. + +"And now," cried Monsieur Rouquin in a great voice, "I have a plan. +Let us celebrate the birth of Monsieur Napoleon Bingle by dining +together at Pierre's. This day he is born again--or, at least, +prospectively born. Life for him really begins to-day--the sixth of +March. It is my treat! I shall be the host on this memorable occasion. +Pierre shall give to us the best duckling in his larder and the rarest +bottle of--" + +"But my dear Rouquin," began Mr. Bingle. + +"I implore you, kind friend, to honour me with your presence this +evening. The greatest day of my life shall be this one if you but +consent to grace my board with your lovely lady. And poor Madame +Rousseau and her amiable husband shall not be the ghosts at the feast, +as one might suspect, but joyful spirits. To them we will drink a +toast of good will and better luck next time, and they may drink to +you, madame and sir, the health of one grand Napoleon Bingle, in whose +past they both shared but whose future can only be a--" + +"Oh, I say, Rouquin," broke in Monsieur Jean languidly, "why not make +it 'many happy returns of the day'? That's the real issue." + +Rouquin coughed violently, and, upon recovering himself, went on with +a slight modification of his rapture: "Whatever should come of this +day's work, we should all drink deeply to the health, prosperity and +fame of a future president of the United States--Napoleon Bingle! +Come, Madame Bingle, you cannot refuse to join your humble servant and +petitioner in one jolly, epoch-making--though absolutely respectable-- +celebration in honour of our little Napoleon. And you, M'sieur--Ah, +you, sir! Have you not in prospect the alliance of your own honoured +name with that of the most notable Frenchman of recent times? +Napoleon! Bingle! Ah, think of it! Bingle--Napoleon! We can afford to +overlook the fact that Napoleon was a Corsican and not a--real +Frenchman. We can--" + +"Just as we must overlook the fact that little Napoleon is a Rousseau +and not a Bingle," said Mr. Bingle drily. + +"Quite so, quite so," agreed Rouquin hastily. "Napoleon Bonaparte was +the adopted son of France, and Napoleon Rousseau is the adopted son of +the great Thomas Bingleton Single--" "Singleton Bingle," corrected Mr. +Bingle, as Rouquin hesitated in evident appreciation of his mixed +consonants. + +"I am sure Madame Rousseau will not feel like joining in a feast at +this time," said Mrs. Bingle. "It is hardly an occasion for +jollification--" + +"Ah, Madame," cried Madame Rousseau, with sparkling eyes, "it is not +for myself that I would jollify, but for the adored Napoleon. It is +for him that I would rejoice. Is he not to become rich and honoured, +and is he not to be given by law a name that he can never be ashamed +of as long as he--" + +Rouquin broke in again, hastily and somewhat apprehensively. "Let us +save our fine phrases for the banquet board. Ah, I can see it in +M'sieur Bingle's face! He will accept my little hospitality. He will +come with Madame to Pierre's. He will make me to be forever honoured +among men. He--" + +"I'll come on one condition only, Rouquin." + +"And what is that, M'sieur?" + +"That I may settle the bill." + +Rouquin was amiable. He shrugged his shoulders and beamed. "I should +be the last to say no to any demand of my guests. If it would give you +pleasure, sir, to pay for my dinner, I shall not protest. I am the +most courteous of hosts. The smallest wish of my guests must be +gratified. However, sir, I reserve the right to order the dinner which +I am giving. You will not deny me that, I am sure." + +"By no means," cried Bingle. "Order whatever you like, Rouquin. I've +never been able to order anything from a French bill-of-fare but pate- +de-foi-gras. It's your dinner, Rouquin, not mine. But, we are going +ahead too fast. We have not yet heard from Monsieur Rousseau. Will he +be willing to join us?" + +"Sure," said Monsieur Jean. + +"And what about the baby? Is it right for us to take a small child to +a public cafe where there may be drinking and--" + +"My dear Mrs. Bingle," cried Rouquin, "pray have no thought of +Napoleon's comfort on this occasion. I shall insist upon Madame +Rousseau leaving him here--in my humble dwelling--until called for. +That is to say, in charge of my wonderful Fifi, who will care for him +completely during her absence. He shall have a stupendous supper and +he shall be put to bed happy. For once in his poor little life he +shall have abundance of food and the joy of a warm nest to lie in. Ah, +it is a great day for Napoleon!" + +Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Bingle stepped into a new and hitherto +unsuspected world the instant they entered Pierre's. They stepped out +of it at ten o'clock that night and into a very commonplace, humdrum +sort of automobile and were whisked homeward by an astonished, +unbelieving chauffeur. They had drunk the health of Napoleon the +present, Napoleon the past, and Napoleon the future, and they had done +it from cobwebby, mouldy bottles out of the uttermost depths of +Pierre's cellars. They were pleasantly, agreeably conscious of going +home, and they talked a great deal of the vivacious, though +heartbroken mother of little Napoleon, who, despite her shabby frock, +was the life of the party. And Monsieur Jean--he, the great artist and +stricken father--he too was gay and amusing. He sang a wonderful +little French song that was applauded violently by people at the +nearby tables, and he drew wonderful caricatures of the musicians, the +head waiter, the shockingly bad soprano, and of Mr. Bingle himself. +Rouquin alone was nervous and uneasy, but of course only on account of +his illustrious guests. He was constantly imploring both Madame and +Monsieur Rousseau to reflect before speaking, and they obeyed him by +reflecting in a thoroughly audible manner so that he might not be left +in the dark as to their intentions. + +Mr. and Mrs. Bingle said good night on the sidewalk in front of the +restaurant. As the latter shook hands with little Madame Rousseau, the +mother of Napoleon suddenly fell to shivering. All of the gaiety fell +from her like a discarded mantle. Her piquant face became drawn and +pinched and her fingers clasped those of Mrs. Bingle in a fierce, +almost painful grip. She drew the elder woman apart from the group. + +"Oh, Madame, you will be good to my little boy," she whispered, +beating her breast with her free hand. "I am not gay. I am unhappy. I +would not give him up but his father insists it is for the best. I may +see him some time, may I not? I love him. He is my joy, my everything. +To-night I sing and laugh, but my heart is not light. Non, non! It is +like a stone, like ice. Oh, Madame, I implore you to be good to my +little boy!" + +She was crying softly. Mrs. Bingle put her arm about the bent +shoulders and drew the young mother close to her side. + +"Don't you worry, my dear. We'll make a fine man of your little +Napoleon. Some day you will look with pride upon him and say: 'I'm +glad I brought that man into the world, even though he doesn't know +it.' And I am glad that you have cried. It makes another woman of you. +I would say 'God bless you,' Madame Rousseau, if it were not that he +has already blessed you." + +Later on in the night, Rouquin and his two companions paused at the +foot of a Sixth Avenue Elevated station. + +"Good night, old fellow," said Rouquin, giving Jean's hand a mighty +grip. "You are a true friend." + +Then Jean said good night cheerily and walked off down the street, +whistling gaily, as one who has completed an honest day's work. + +I think I have neglected to mention that Rouquin was an exceedingly +good-looking, fascinating chap of twenty-eight or thirty, and +unmarried. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! + + +Chapter thirteen is an unlucky one for Mr. Bingle. Many unpleasant +things are crowded into the space devoted to this division of the +narrative, although in the matter of time we leap from early March to +the fifth of July with all the swiftness of one who races at break- +neck speed to get away from consequences, or to put a disagreeable +task as far behind as possible. + +In the first place, Kathleen was permitted to remain with the Bingles +far beyond the date set for her departure in the custody of a new set +of parents. It so happened that on the very day selected for her +departure, which was early in March, Rutherford and Imogene came down +with a fever and a rash. Dr. Fiddler was summoned from the city. Just +as he entered the broad portals at the front of the house, two of the +nurse-maids, Stokes and Brown, walked swiftly down the back stairs +with their suitcases and bandboxes in their hands. + +Mr. Bingle was notified that they wanted to see him at once in the +library. They appeared to be in a great hurry to catch a train for the +city. From time to time, while they waited for the master of the +house, they cast nervous, apprehensive looks in the direction of the +door through which they had entered the room. Their apprehensions +apparently were justified by the abrupt arrival upon the scene of +Wright and Quinlan, the other nurse-maids, both of whom were hot and +flushed and still in a state of frowsy preparation for a journey. They +too had their suitcases and bundles and they too were trying to +balance unfastened hats upon the top of agitated heads. + +Mr. Bingle came into the room just in time to hear each of the four +accusing all of the others of trying to sneak off and leave her with +the bag to hold, or words to that effect. With his entrance, however, +each of the hasty nurse-maids was reminded of a dreadfully sick +relative in town and of the necessity for instant departure. What they +wanted of Mr. Bingle was their pay--and a reference. + +The poor gentleman was flabbergasted. He wanted to know what had +happened. They told him in one voice that it was nearly train-time and +that nothing had happened, and would he please hurry. When he +suggested that they should wait and see Mrs. Bingle, they asked him to +say good-bye for them, and made for the door, crowding one another +rudely in their eagerness to be off. Brown saved the situation for +herself and her companions by shrilly declaring that she would drop +him a line from New York, advising him where to send her money and the +reference, and for him not to bother now, she would trust him, of +course. And then they all trooped out of the library and rushed for +the front door. Three of them reached the outer air and were gone +forever, but one of them, Miss Stokes, was turned back by the +determined Watson, who clutched her by the arm and whispered a few +sharp, convincing sentences into her ear. She set down her suitcase +and began to cry, whereupon the footman kissed her and said that he'd +despise her if she didn't stand by Mr. Bingle now that he needed her +so much; and Stokes said that she was crying because she hated herself +for even thinking of leaving and that the other girls were the scum of +the earth, take it from her. + +Well, it turned out that the two children had scarlet fever. Brown +happened to know that Imogene had been exposed to the disease during a +surreptitious visit to the cottage of the station agent, whose wife it +appears was a close friend of the nursemaid, and whose baby thrived +immensely on the rich foods from the Bingle establishment. So the +instant the rash appeared, Brown began packing her suitcase and trunk. +She tried to get away without letting the other girls into the secret, +but they suspected. What might have been a dignified resignation on +Brown's part, became a stampede. + +That afternoon the Force automobile came for Kathleen. Mr. and Mrs. +Force were confronted by Diggs as they came up the steps. He gave them +the news. + +"The deuce you say," said Force, backing down the steps. "Has she been +exposed?" + +Mr. Bingle appeared in the doorway. "Come in, please," he said, +covering his bare head with a newspaper. "Got some bad news for you." + +"What the devil do you mean, Bingle, by running around among the riff- +raff of all New York, picking up germs and bringing 'em out here to a +house full of children? See what you've done, gallivanting around with +Rouquin's cheap--" + +"Oh, come now, Force! Don't blame poor little Napoleon. It takes ten +days or so for a case to develop and I saw Napoleon only two days ago. +Come in, won't you? I can't stand here in the--" + +"No, thank you," exploded Mr. Force. "I've never had the infernal +thing, and it's usually fatal in adults. I wouldn't expose myself to +it for a million dollars. Shut the door, Diggs, confound you! Do you +want to have the microbes blowing out here into my very face? Get back +in the car, dear! Lord, what a nice mess it is. Hang it all, Bingle, +didn't I tell you in so many words not to let Kathleen play around +with all those little--" + +"Kathleen hasn't got it--yet," said Mr. Bingle hotly. "Only two of 'em +have shown--" + +"We cannot consider taking her away with us now," said Mrs. Force, +with decision. "You can't expect us to expose ourselves to--" + +"No, you can't, Bingle," broke in Mr. Force. "It's not to be thought +of. She's got to stay here until--until the thing's over." + +"That is to say, until she gets well or dies," said Mr. Bingle, +raising his voice. + +"Oh, I'll send out a good doctor and a couple of nurses. And, see +here, I don't want this child cooped up with all the rest of 'em. I +want her placed in a separate room, as far as possible from the--" + +"By jingo!" cried Mr. Bingle. "I believe it would be a good thing for +the child if she caught it and died. Good day, Mrs. Force. Better move +rapidly, Force. You see, I've been exposed--and so has Diggs. We're +alive with microbes." + +And that is why Kathleen did not go South early in March--not until +late in April, for that matter, when she had completely recovered from +a particularly stubborn illness, and long after all of the others, +except little Imogene, were up and about. Imogene died. + +Miss Fairweather was the angel in this season of tribulation. She was +true blue. Day and night she gave up to the care of the sick ones, and +when it was all over the roses in her cheeks were missing, but the +light in her eyes was bright. + +Then Kathleen went away. Mr. Force, considerably humbled, apologised +to Mr. Bingle for as many things as he could remember, and Mrs. Force, +after all, did condescend to introduce Mrs. Bingle to her own +exclusive dressmaker. Napoleon came. Mr. Bingle watched the newspapers +for an account of the suicide of Monsieur and Madame Rousseau, but no +such event was reported. No doubt the approach of spring deterred +them. They would probably wait until cold weather set in again. + +In order to encourage the struggling Rousseau, he bought, through +Rouquin, a rather startling painting by the young artist, in which a +herd of red cattle partook placidly of the skyline and a pallid +windmill dominated the foreground. Later on, an expert informed him +that the red cattle were rocks on the edge of a pool and the windmill +was a lady making ready to dive into the water for a lonely swim. The +painting was signed, but the name was not Rousseau. It was Fauret. +Rouquin explained the discrepancy. He said that young Rousseau +preferred to paint under an assumed name--in truth, it was his +maternal grandmother's name--rather than to have his canvases confused +with those of the academic, old-school Barbizon painter. He was above +trading on a name that was fast becoming obsolete! + +Then there came the astonishing disappearance of young Frederick. The +third day after Kathleen's departure, Frederick turned up missing. A +week passed before the detectives found him in Washington, penniless, +half-starved but valiant. He had run away from home to find Kathleen, +for, in his fickle heart, he had come to realise that it was she whom +he loved and not old Miss Fairweather at all. Extreme hunger and an +acute attack of home-sickness dampened his ardent regard for the +distant Kathleen, for the time being at least, and he was quite +content to return to Seawood, where, after all, he could have all he +wanted to eat and at the same time reflect audibly on the fact that he +was a real hero. + +Envy induced Wilberforce to run away a few days after Frederick +returned with his great tales of adventure, privation and gallantry. +He got no farther from home than White Plains, and was back at Seawood +before nine o'clock at night on the day of his flight, yet he had +enjoyed so many hair-raising experiences, rescued so many lovely girls +from all manner of perils, and soundly thrashed so many unprincipled +varlets, that even Melissa's narratives became weak and puerile when +put up against the tales he told to his pop-eyed brothers and sisters. +He did not mention the sound thrashing that he sustained at the hands +of Mrs. Bingle, however, nor did he attempt to account for the bitter +howls that began to issue from behind the closed library doors almost +simultaneously with his return to Seawood. These howls, it may be +added, had a great deal to do with the decline of enthusiasm among the +other boys. Wilberforce's adventure in the library was the one that +made the deepest impression on them. + +And this summary paddling of young Wilberforce, in direct opposition +to the wishes of his foster-father, who would have punished him in a +less drastic fashion, brings us to the gravest of Mr. Bingle's +worries: the curious change in Mrs. Bingle's attitude toward the +children. + +From being a loving, kind, sympathetic mother she lapsed into the +opposite in every particular. Her querulousness, impatience, even +antipathy became more and more marked as the summer advanced and Mr. +Bingle, in dire distress, consulted Dr. Fiddler. She scolded +incessantly, spanked frequently, complained from morning till night, +and suffered headaches, neuritis and kindred ailments to such an +extent that the good doctor might well have been pardoned for looking +a bit wiser than ever before and suggesting a change of scene and +environment for the lady, whose nerves undoubtedly had been affected +by the troubles of the past few weeks. + +Every one about the place observed and secretly commented on the +amazing change in the mistress of the house. The calm, serene, level- +headed manager of Mr. Bingle's household had developed into a cranky, +dyspeptic tyrant whose pleasure it was to be unfailingly displeased +with everything, and who, despite the fact that she was not yet forty- +three, declared that she was a broken old woman without the remotest +hope of ever seeing a well day again in her life. She was quite +positive that she suffered from a dreadful and incurable malady. She +knew the symptoms, she had every one of them, and no doctor in the +world could convince her to the contrary--so she said. Her greatest +desire was to go to Peekskill, where she could find peace and quiet +and unutterable relief from the annoyances caused by the little +nuisances that Mr. Bingle had taken under his wing. In Peekskill her +mother and sister still lived the simple life, and that was what she +wanted more than anything else. + +Mr. Bingle's gentle argument that he could not go to Peekskill with +her met with a petulant response. She made it plain to him that she +realised his preference for the children and that she was no longer of +any use to him as a companion or helpmate. For her own part, she'd +like to see them all in Jericho--meaning the children, of course. All +of which shocked and distressed poor Mr. Bingle beyond expression. + +"What is it, Doctor? Physically she seems to be all right. Can it be +that she is going to pieces mentally? Why, she's always been the most +loving, gentle--" + +"Nerves, Bingle--plain nerves. She'll be all right in a little while, +I'm sure. I'll have a look at her again next week. In the meantime, +don't pull such a long face. She is as sound as a dollar physically, +as you say. Leave her to me, old fellow. Don't cross her, don't let +her see too much of the children, and don't object to her going to +visit her mother in--where is it?--if she wants to do so. By the way, +Bingle, I wouldn't adopt any more children at present, if I were you. +Wait for a year or two and see how she feels about it." + +"Would you advise a trip to Europe? We've been contemplating it for +the past ten years, but--I'm ashamed to admit it--we're both scared +out of our boots when we think of being out there on the Atlantic with +two or three miles of water under our beds every night and icebergs +floating all around us. We want to see Paris and London, of course. +Every one ought to see 'em if he can afford it. If you think it +advisable, I'll take her across this summer. Maybe if she got to Paris +she'd forget she ever wanted to go to Peekskill." + +"I'll let you know what I think of it later on, Bingle. We'll see. +I've never seen your garden looking better than it looks this summer. +You have a treasure in that man Edgecomb. Come, let's stroll down to +the Italian--" + +"Not just now, Doctor," said Mr. Bingle hastily. "I think Miss +Fairweather and Flanders are down there enjoying the shade and the +music of the fountain." + +The servant question was another bothersome thing for him to contend +with. They were dissatisfied and on the point of leaving, especially +the new nursemaids. A general increase in wages served as a temporary +restraint, and a second increase was plainly in sight. For the first +time in his life Mr. Bingle possessed a secret unshared with his wife: +he did not tell her of the raise in wages. + +Flanders announced that rehearsals for the play would be started early +in July. The company had been chosen and a theatre taken in his own +name. Mr. Bingle preferred to remain a silent and unrecognised +instrument in the enterprise. He remembered in time that he was a +deacon in the church hard by, and was sorely afraid that while his own +conscience might be perfectly clear in the matter it wasn't by any +means certain that the congregation possessed the same kind of a +conscience. + +It became necessary, therefore, for Miss Fairweather to give up her +place and prepare for the task ahead of her, especially as her role +called for a bit of dancing in the second act, demanding considerable +preliminary work under the instruction of a teacher. Mrs. Bingle was +rather glad to see her go. Secretly she was beginning to mistrust the +young lady's intentions where Mr. Bingle was concerned. It was her +recently formed opinion that one can never trust an actress, no matter +how closely she is watched or how frankly she looks you in the eye +while you are watching. + +Mr. Bingle called Miss Fairweather and the good-looking Flanders into +his study a few days before the time set for her departure. He closed +the door carefully behind them and then crossed over to glance out of +the window into the garden, where Mrs. Bingle was chatting earnestly +with Dr. Fiddler in the shade of a glorious oak. Mr. Bingle had had +something on his mind for a long, long time. The fate of Agnes Glenn +was at the back of it. + +"When do you two expect to be married?" he asked bluntly, taking them +both by surprise. They turned quite red and looked at each other in +evident dismay. + +"Why, we--er--really, Mr. Bingle," began Flanders, "we thought we'd +wait until we see how the piece gets over and then--" He looked to the +embarrassed Miss Fairweather for help. + +"If everything goes well, Mr. Bingle," she said, nervously, "we +sha'n't hesitate an instant. Of course, if it is a failure, we'll-- +well, it really would be wise to wait for a little while until--" + +"That's just the thing I want to get at," said Mr. Bingle. "Don't put +it off, my friends. Get married here, Miss Fairweather, to-morrow, +next day. I am your friend, and yours, Dick. My wedding present shall +be--well, I must ask you to leave it to me. I love you both. You have +meant a great deal to me. There is nothing I would not do for you, +nothing I would not shield you from if it lay in my power to do so. +So, I ask you, my friends, to be married here in my house before--" +Emotion choked him. He had been standing near the window at the +beginning of his disjointed remarks. As they progressed, he approached +them with his hands extended. + +The young couple grasped his hands and Flanders spoke. + +"We can't do it, Mr. Bingle. It is out of the question. I'm sorry-- +terribly sorry. You are a corker, sir. I--" + +"For goodness' sake," began Mr. Bingle, imploringly. + +"We would jump at the chance, Mr. Bingle, to be married here, if it +were not for one thing," went on Flanders, and then looked at Miss +Fairweather. + +"And what in the world can that be?" cried Mr. Bingle. + +"We were married two months ago, Mr. Bingle," said Mrs. Richard +Flanders guiltily. + +It was some time before they could make him believe it. She revealed +her wedding ring--suspended about her neck--and then Mr. Bingle kissed +her very soberly and with tears in his eyes. + +"Two months ago!" he said, waveringly. "And God bless my soul, you +spent your honeymoon nursing a lot of sick children! Well, well, it +beats all! It isn't too late for a wedding present. I'll--" + +Flanders interrupted him. "It is too late, sir," he said firmly. "We +only ask for your blessing and your good wishes, Mr. Bingle. You have +already given us too much. We shall never be out of debt to you. The +play, the theatre--" + +"Ah, but I haven't spent a nickel on the play, you blundering booby," +cried Mr. Bingle heartily. "That is still to come. I want to do +something NOW." + +"It will come soon enough, sir," said Flanders firmly. "We can't abuse +a friendship like yours." + +"By George," cried Mr. Bingle; "you are a fine fellow, Dick, as I've +always said. You are a gentleman." + +"Thank you, sir," said Flanders simply, for he was a gentleman. + +On the first day of July the incomparable Diggs gave notice. It was +like a clap out of a clear sky. + +"My goodness, Diggs, you don't--you CAN'T mean it," gasped Mr. Bingle. + +"I do mean it, sir, I'm sorry to say, sir," said Diggs. "It was on my +mind to mention the matter last spring, sir, but the hunfortunate +quarantine made it quite out of the question. I wish to state, sir, +that I would not 'ave left your service at a time like that. You 'ave +been the kindest, most thoughtful of masters, sir, and I trust I shall +never be the man to go back on a gentleman who--er--I mean to say, +sir, a gentleman who deserves the best of treatment from his +servants." + +"I'm sure I appreciate your good opinion, Diggs. But, tell me, is it a +matter of wages? If it is, I think we may be able to arbitrate the +question." + +"No, sir. Wages has nothing to do with it, sir. My wages 'ave been +quite satisfactory, as my savings will prove. As a matter of fact, Mr. +Bingle, I 'ave laid by a very neat little sum, which I took the +liberty of investing in a small business before giving notice, sir, +the hopportunity presenting itself while you were so worried over the +sickness that I felt it would be quite wrong to disturb you with my +affairs. We 'ave purchased a green-grocer's business in Columbus +Avenue--you might call it a sort of general business, fruit, +vegetables, hegg--eggs, coal, firewood and vinous liquors, sir. We +hexpect to take possession in a fortnight, sir." + +"We? Have you a partner?" + +"Yes, sir. Watson, sir." + +"Watson? Is--is he leaving me, too? Upon my soul, Diggs--this is TOO +bad!" + +"Yes, sir, it really is. I happreciate what it means, sir, as I told +Watson when he gave notice to me. I says to him, says I: 'Watson, Mr. +Bingle will 'ave a time of it getting any one to fill your place,' and +Watson says to me: 'And what about you, Mr. Diggs?' And I says +'Pooh!'" + +"Watson gave notice to you, did he? When did this happen?" + +"Yes, sir. The servants usually give notice to the butler. He did it +the day we bought out the business, sir," said Diggs, surprised that +Mr. Bingle should have asked so simple a question. + +"I see. Well, Diggs, I can't tell you how sorry I am to have you go. +You have been here for eight years. You are the best butler I've ever +known--and the only one, I may as well add. I wish you the best of +luck. Shake hands, Diggs. It may interest you to know that I look upon +you as the best friend I've ever had. You are the only man I've known +in the past ten years who has really treated me as an equal. You've +done this, Diggs, knowing full well that by rights I am nothing more +than a bookkeeper and never will be more than that, no matter how many +millions I may possess. You have made it your business to live down to +me, and so I am your debtor. Everybody else, from Mr. Force to the +telegraph operator over in the railroad station, looks--but, why go +into all this? You are going, and I wish you the best of luck. The +same to Watson, too, if you please!" + +"I shall mention it to Watson, sir. He will be very much gratified." + +"And I may be able to throw quite a little business in your way, +Diggs. We shall make it a point to buy our supplies from the firm of-- +is it to be Diggs & Watson? + +"No, sir. It is to be called the Covent Garden Consolidated Fruit +Company, sir. There is another little matter I'd like to speak about, +Mr. Bingle." Diggs was quite red in the face. "Ahem! I am also +compelled to say that Melissa has given notice, sir." + +"Melissa! Impossible! Not MELISSA?" + +"Melissa Taylor, sir." + +"Why, she is the last one that I--" Words failed him. He looked quite +helpless in the face of this staggering blow. + +"I 'ad a great deal of difficulty, sir, in persuading 'er to leave +your employment. She was most determined about it at first, sir." + +"You--YOU, Diggs, persuaded her to leave? 'Pon my soul, that was +rather a shabby thing to--" + +"Oh, I trust you won't look at it in the wrong way, sir," cried Diggs +in distress. "Melissa 'as merely consented to become my wife, sire. No +offence intended, I hassure you. No underhanded work on my--" + +"God bless my soul!" cried Mr. Bingle. "Melissa is going to marry +you?" + +"Yes, sir. Next Thursday week, sir. And also, sir, I am obliged to +announce that Miss Stokes, the first nurse-maid, is to become Mrs. +Watson on the same day." + +Mr. Bingle sat down again. "My gracious!" + +"She also gives notice, sir, through me. Did I thank you, sir, for +your generous offer to trade with us when we take over the business? I +was that rattled, sir, I fear I forgot to--" + +"It is taken for granted, Diggs. And you--you all leave us on the +fourteenth of July?" + +"If quite convenient, Mr. Bingle." + +"The anniversary of the fall of the Bastile," mused the distressed +master of the house. + +"Oh, I hassure you, sir, that really had nothing to do with it," said +Diggs. + +"Well, I suppose I shall have to train a new lot to take your places." + +"I would suggest that you advance Hughes to the place of butler. He is +a very competent man." + +"We'll see. And now you may say to the other three members of the +Covent Garden Fruit Company that I accept their resignations with +regret, and wish all of them joy." + +"Thank you, sir. I shall speak to Watson and Miss Stokes, and I shall +ask Watson to carry your message to Miss Taylor." + +"Can't you attend to that part of it yourself, Diggs?" + +Diggs stiffened. "I regret to say, sir, that Miss Taylor and I 'ave +had a--what you might describe, sir, as a bit of a tiff. She hasn't +permitted me to speak to her since yesterday morning. It will be quite +all right, however, to 'ave Watson 'andle the matter. Thank you, sir." + +The fifth of July, as usual, came close upon the heels of the one day +in the year that men with large families of growing children feel +perfectly justified in characterizing as All-Fools' Day. The Bingle +youngsters, regardless of their missing antecedents, celebrated the +day as unqualified American citizens. They set fire to the stables, +shot Roman candles into the kitchen, bounced torpedoes off of the +statuary in the gardens, hurled firecrackers great and small at one +another, and came through the day with one thumb missing, four faces +powder-burnt, and one arm fractured in two places. (Rutherford fell +off of the balcony while being chased by an escaped pin-wheel.) + +"But," said Mr. Bingle, after relating the horrors of the day to Dr. +Fiddler on the morning of the fifth, "I am glad to say that we got +through with it alive. How did you find Mrs. Bingle? She was pretty +well done-up by the noise." + +"She's all right, Bingle. Don't worry. Who is this coming up the drive +in such haste?" + +Mr. Bingle peered intently over his glasses. + +"That? Why, 'pon my soul, Fiddler, that is Mr. Sigsbee. My lawyer, you +know. Now, what in the world can be bringing him out here? By George, +I--I wonder!" He leaned against a porch pillar, assailed by a sudden +weakness. + +"You wonder--what?" + +"I wonder if the Supreme Court sits on the day after the Fourth of +July." + +"The Court is late this year in arriving at the summer recess, that +much I can tell you. Are you expecting a decision in the case of +Hooper et al. vs. Bingle?" + +"I am," said Mr. Bingle, mopping his brow, which was wet with a very +chilly moisture. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE LAW'S LAST WORD + + +Mr. Sigsbee remained for luncheon. He did not return to the city until +late in the afternoon. All day long an atmosphere of gloom, not +altogether attributable to reaction from the Fourth, pervaded the +house. By that strange, mysterious form of contagion described as +"sensing," the servants became infected by the depression; questioning +looks were answered by questioning looks; conversation was carried on +in lowered tones and confined almost exclusively to matters pertaining +to the work in hand; furtive looks were bestowed upon the door of Mr. +Bingle's study and, later on, directed with some misgiving upon the +closed transom above Mrs. Bingle's bedroom door. To the certain +knowledge of the oldest servant on the place, this transom had never +been lowered before. + +This much was known to three persons: the butler, one of the footmen +and Melissa: shortly after the strange gentleman entered Mr. Bingle's +study with the master, the mistress and Dr. Fiddler, Mrs. Bingle was +led to her room by the doctor and her husband, moaning and wringing +her hands. The trained nurse who had come down to take care of +Rutherford was hastily summoned to the bedroom, and later on Diggs was +instructed to telephone to Dr. Fiddler's office in town with an order +to his assistant to send out a second nurse without delay. + +At dinner, Mr. Bingle was singularly pale and preoccupied. His doctor +and his lawyer talked of the attitude of the Administration at +Washington in regard to the Mexican question and other problems in +which a keen observer would have remarked that they were not at all +interested--and in which Diggs and Hughes certainly had no present +interest. They ate quite heartily, as doctors and lawyers are prone to +do when the opportunity presents itself. Immediately after dinner they +repaired to the study and closed the door. All evening there were +telephone conversations with New York and Washington, and frequent +visits to Mrs. Bingle's room by the doctor and Mr. Bingle. + +At ten o'clock Mr. Bingle walked out upon the moon-lit lawn and gazed +about him in all directions, taking in the terraces, the park, the +gardens, and last of all the splendid facade of the great house +itself. Head gardener Edgecomb approached and to him Mr. Bingle said: + +"It was a beautiful place--a beautiful place, indeed," and then +straightway returned to the house. Edgecomb, slack grammarian though +he was, made note of the fact that he spoke of the house in the past +tense, quite as if it were a thing that had ceased to exist. + +The children had had their supper when Melissa came down from Mrs. +Bingle's room, whither she had been summoned in some haste at five +o'clock. She promptly announced that they were to skip off to bed at +once as their mother's head was that bad that she was not to be +disturbed by the slightest sound. To the inquiries of her fellow- +servants, Melissa curtly replied that it was none of their business +what had happened and if they had any business they'd better attend to +it instead of snooping around the halls trying to find out something +that did not in the least concern them. + +Melissa knew what had happened. Before eight o'clock that night Miss +Fairweather knew, and Flanders also. The great Bingle dream was not +the only one to be shattered by the news that the day brought forth. + +For the first time in two days, Melissa addressed herself to Mr. +Diggs. Her lip trembled and there were tears lying close to the +surface of her eyes. She told the butler, in smothered tones, that she +had decided to remain in the employ of Mr. Bingle as long as he needed +her services, and that she would have to return his ring. She could +not marry him--at least not at present, nor for a long time perhaps. +The children refused to go to bed unless Melissa told them a story. +She collected them in the nursery--the lame, the halt and the half- +blind--and very meekly inquired what kind of a story they would have. + +"The one about Peter Pan," said Henrietta. + +"No! Tell us a new one about the piruts," cried Wilberforce. + +"A ghost story, 'Lissie," chimed in Harold, aged five. "Scare me good +and hard, so's I can sleep with Freddy to-night." + +"It's not the right kind of a night for a ghost story," said Melissa, +her eyes going over the group with a strange, sweet compassion in +their depths. "The wind ought to be howling with blood-curdling glee +and the will-o'-the-wisp ought to be a-hoppin' in the swamp. There +ought to be a graveyard close by--and some skeletons standing just +outside the winders, trying to look in upon us through their eyeless +sockets." + +"Let's imagine 'em," said Frederick. + +"I want to huddle, 'Lissie," lisped Rosemary. "It's fun to huddle." + +"You'll be discharged if you fill these kids up with any more of those +yarns of yours," said Stokes, the nurse-maid, languidly looking up +from the book she was reading. + +"I guess not," said Melissa, rather grimly. "My job's safe, no matter +what I do or don't do. Go on with your reading, Miss Stokes. Your +worries are almost over. Mine are just beginning. Huddle up close, +Rosemary--I'm going to begin." + +"I'm huddled," shivered Rosemary, crawling under Melissa's sheltering +arm. + +"Now, this is a true story," began Melissa wearily. The children had +drawn close about her. "It's an honest true one about a ghost that +used to ha'nt my great-grandfather. My great-grandfather owned a +beautiful castle in France not far from Nice." She pronounced it with +the long sound of the vowel, and was promptly corrected by Marie +Louise. "I said it was my great-grandfather, not my niece," said the +storyteller sharply. "Well, onct upon a time he was engaged in a war-- +the Communism war, I think it was. In the heat of battle one day he +cut off a great general's head, just like that. Goodness, don't jump +so, Rosemary! It rolled down a hill, bumpety-bump, swearing all the +way. You see, he was a very great general and was allowed to swear all +he pleased. He got his head cut off, so there's a warning for you boys +never to swear. Well, Grandpa got off of his fiery steed and looked +everywhere for the corpse's head. He had the body all right, but what +good was a body without a head? He couldn't find it anywhere. The rest +of the army came up and helped in the search, but 'twasn't any use. +That general's head had disappeared as if by magic. At first it was +thought they might trace it by the cuss-words it was uttering, but you +see by this time everybody was swearing, so it was like looking for a +needle in a haystack. They kept on hunting for nearly a week, because +Grandpa wanted to send that feller's head to his widow, so's she could +give it a decent burial and also get the insurance. He--" + +"And so's she could get married again," broke in Frederick. + +"Exactly. Well, after the war was over, Grandpa he went back to his +castle to rest up for the next war, and to have his sword sharpened +and his petard fixed. One dark night he was a-setting in his ante-room +pondering over the past and wondering what had become of that feller's +head--and also what had become of his widder, who was a most +bewitching creature and would make any man a most desirable wife, +especially if he didn't have one already--which Grandpa didn't. All of +a sudden he heard a voice speaking to him as if from a graveyard. It +said 'Good evenin', Duke!' Did I tell you my great-grandpa was a duke? +Well, he was. 'Good evenin', Duke,' said the voice, coming from +nowhere in--" + +"Did it say it twice?" demanded Reginald. + +"Four or five times," said Melissa; "because Grandpa wasn't sure he +heard it the first time. He looked everywhere. Finally he saw it. It +was perched right there on his knee--a awful, horrid, bluggy head with +its moustache twisted up like Swanson's on Sunday. It--Oh, Lordy!" + +Mr. Bingle entered the nursery. The children stared at him as if at +the long-expected ghost, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. His sandy, +greyish hair which of late had been trained to lie quite sleek and +precise across the widening bald-spot, was now in a state of wild +disorder. It stood out "every which way," according to Melissa's +subsequent description, and lent to his appearance an aspect of +fierceness that was almost inconceivable. Somehow they were all +surprised when this sinister figure spoke, for his voice was kind and +gentle, and not at all what one might have looked for in a maniac. + +"Well, well, here we are. Isn't it time you all were in bed? Off with +you, like good boys and girls. Daddy won't be able to come up to see +that you're tucked in to-night. I'll say good night to you now. +Melissa, will you and Stokes come down to the library as soon as +you've got them to bed? And please tell the other nurse-maids to come +also. I don't happen to see them about anywhere. I suppose it is a +general night out. I have something important to say to you all. +Please be as spry as possible. I want to get it over with." + +Half an hour later, Mr. Bingle received his servants in the library. +It was to be noted that his hair was smoothly brushed. With him in the +room was a young man who was recognised by a few of the servants as +Mr. Epps, a clerk from the lawyers' offices. From Diggs down to the +boy whose sole duty it was to feed the robins and squirrels in the +park--all were there, a curious and strangely depressed assemblage. + +The master, in a quiet, unemotional voice at once stated the object of +the meeting. He had called them together for the purpose of giving +them the required two weeks' notice, and also to pay them in full +their wages up to the twentieth of the month. They were at liberty to +go, however, as soon as they liked, but he desired them to know that +it would be with his best wishes for their future. A letter of +recommendation would be found attached to each pay envelope. He +regretted exceedingly that it was not in his power to supplement this +last payment by the addition of a well-deserved present to each of his +faithful servitors. Circumstances over which he had no control made it +impossible for him to give them more than the stipulated amount. In +concluding a brief, simple tribute to their loyalty as servants and an +expression of his sincere regret that they were so soon to part +company, Mr. Bingle said: + +"You see before you, my friends, a man who is poorer than any one of +you. Yesterday I was a rich man, to-day I am as poor as Job's turkey. +Poorer, if anything, for Job's turkey at least possessed a home, such +as it was. To-morrow I shall receive official notification that +Seawood and all that goes with it, real and personal, is no longer +mine. The law has said so, and I must abide by the decision of the +highest court in the land. + +"The Supreme Court has finally handed down its decision in the case of +Hooper et al. vs. Bingle. I am not the rightful heir. Joseph H. Hooper +was not acting within his rights when he disposed of his privately +acquired fortune. His children were acting within their rights when +they disowned him, scorned him, kicked him out of their lives. It has +been decided that my uncle was not competent to dispose of his +property, and that I, his conniving nephew, influenced him by craft, +wiliness, duplicity and so forth to such an extent that he gave his +money to me instead of to those who should have received it. The +Supreme Court declares that all of the lower courts erred in not +admitting testimony to prove that my uncle DESIRED to leave his +fortune to his children, even after he had made his last will in my +favour. + +"It may interest you to know that 'The Christmas Carol' had a great +deal to do with the decision. The lower courts refused to hear +evidence to the effect that after making his will he wrote a letter to +each of his children, over his own signature, in which he stated that +upon reading the carol he was so impressed with the sermon it preached +that he was more than willing to let bygones be bygones and to give to +his children all of his fortune, in equal shares, expressing the hope, +however, that they would be governed by the same noble book in +compensating his beloved nephew, Thomas Bingle, and so on and so +forth. If they would take him back into their lives, he would forget +and forgive. Of course, no attention was paid to these letters at the +time, because he was supposed to be penniless. They only went to show +that he was mentally unbalanced. In the original trials, these letters +were introduced. The Christmas Carol was also offered as one of the +exhibits, and it was allowed to stick. When the story was read in open +court, every one sniffled, even the judge. The jury almost bellowed. +'As it was allowed to remain in the record, I've no doubt the Supreme +Bench wept a little over Tiny Tim. In its decision the Supreme Court +refers quite freely to the story and its effect on the old gentleman. +I shall not go into the history of the case. It would not be of +interest to you. It is only necessary for me to repeat that I shall be +penniless. Seawood must be turned over to the rightful owners. I don't +mind admitting that I have never really felt that it belonged to me. I +have always thought that Joseph Hooper's millions belonged to his +children, mean as they are. + +"But that is neither here nor there. My lawyers would not consent to +my believing anything that they didn't want me to believe. I don't own +a dollar in the world, however, except the wages due to you, my +faithful servants. These wages are to be paid to you to-night by Mr. +Epps, who has cashed my last check against the Hooper fortune, in +order that you may receive your due. To-morrow my check, I fear, would +not be honoured. If I have done wrong in withdrawing money to-day for +the purpose of paying you for honest labour, I shall certainly never +permit it to disturb my conscience. As soon as Rutherford is able to +be removed, I shall leave Seawood forever. In conclusion, I may say +that all I have left in the world are ten small children. As usual, +they turn out to be the poor man's fortune. Mr. Epps, will you be good +enough now to distribute the pay envelopes? I shall say good night to +all of you, and to you, Mr. Epps, as well. To-morrow at any hour you +may select it will give me pleasure to go with you to see the little +flat you have described as the most desirable in your list of +apartments. I was not aware, Mr. Epps, that you acted as a renting +agent in addition to your duties with Bradlee, Sigsbee & Oppenheim." + +"Yes, sir," said Mr. Epps. "I find it quite a profitable side issue, +Mr. Bingle. Clients of ours are constantly being reduced to the +necessity of seeking cheaper--ahem! I shall be pleased to show you the +flat at any hour YOU may select." + +"Thank you, Epps." + +Without going more deeply into details, the foregoing explains the +situation. Thomas Singleton Bingle was to be deprived of the Hooper +millions. His ten years of possession, years of peace and plenty, had +come to an abrupt termination. Poverty, even darker than he had +suffered before the windfall, loomed up ahead of him, for in the old +days there had been no children to feed and clothe. Added to this was +the certainty that a sick wife would take the place of that well, +strong and encouraging Mary of the past. Despite the claims and +assurances of his lawyers, Mr. Bingle always had felt that this day +would come. He had never looked upon himself as the rightful possessor +of Joseph Hooper's fortune in its entirety. So, when the time came, he +was the least surprised by the shock, and would have been the first to +smile had it not been for the dreadful effect the news had upon Mrs. +Bingle. His wife collapsed. She sent for her mother and sister and +declared openly that from that day forth she would make her home with +them. And to add to Mr. Bingle's incalculable distress, Dr. Fiddler +very resolutely said that he thought it advisable for her to do +precisely what she wanted to do at this time. Later on, no doubt, she +would look upon the situation differently, and would return to him +sound in body, mind and affection. But for the present--well, said the +great Dr. Fiddler, she'd be much happier with her mother and sister, +away from Mr. Bingle and the children. He also advised Mr. Bingle in +no uncertain terms to get rid of the children as soon as possible +without seriously jeopardising their future welfare, "for," said he, +"they will never cease to be a barrier between you and your wife, now +that the dream is over and you are both awake to the cruel call of +reality." The situation became desperate for Mr. Bingle when his wife +took her extraordinary stand, and not before. He wilted like a faded +flower in the face of this blighting calamity. + +On the morning of the sixth of July, a pompous old gentleman rang the +front doorbell at Seawood, and inquired for Mr. Bingle. He turned out +to be the principal lawyer employed by Joseph Hooper's son and +daughters in their fight for the Grimwell millions--a Mr. Hoskins by +name. He might have been designated as General Hoskins, as a matter of +fact, for he was in actual command of a small army of lawyers, now +victorious after a long and bitter warfare. + +"I am authorised by my clients, Mr. Bingle," said he, "to extend to +you the customary amenities in such cases, wherein a contest ends so +disastrously for one party or the other. We are not unmindful of the +teachings of 'The Christmas Carol.' Indeed, we have all read it with +great interest. Joseph Hooper's recommendations to his children in +regard to you--" + +"Just a moment, please," interrupted Mr. Bingle. "Say it straight out, +Mr. Hoskins. Have they commissioned you to make provision for my +future out of the funds they are about to acquire?" + +"In a measure, yes," said Mr. Hoskins, prepared to sneer at Mr. +Bingle's gleeful acceptance of charity. "Of course, nothing can be +done in the matter until the opinion of the Court is--" + +"Nothing at all can be done in the matter," said Mr. Bingle acidly. "I +shall not accept a penny from them, Mr. Hoskins. They wouldn't accept +it from me, and I'm damned if I'll accept it from them. 'The Christmas +Carol' hasn't anything to do with the case. All I ask is a little time +in which to straighten out the affairs of the estate, and not to be +hurried in my actions. I promise you that I shall be as expeditious as +possible. In a day or two my counsel and I will be able to get started +on the work. It will be quite simple so far as I am concerned. I have +only to turn over to you everything in the world except our wearing +apparel--not all of that, you may be sure--and my part of the transfer +is completed. I had nothing when Joseph Hooper's money came to me, so, +you see, it will be quite easy for me to step down and out. I have +only to walk out of the house with my wife and children, without a +cent in my pockets, and the job is done. Everything else belongs to +Geoffrey and his sisters." Mr. Hoskins was disconcerted. He had come +prepared to be generous. "My dear sir, the fortunes of war have +militated against--" + +"Better say the misfortunes of war," interrupted Mr. Bingle, with a +twinkle in his eye. + +"I wish you wouldn't interrupt me every time I start to speak to you, +Mr. Bingle," said the lawyer. "I'm not accustomed to being--" + +"I beg your pardon," again interrupted Mr. Bingle, and, because he +said it apologetically, Mr. Hoskins was not resentful. + +"My clients are disposed to be fair and--I will not say charitable-- +generous in their hour of triumph. Last evening they met and discussed +the problems confronting you, sir. They realise that you devoted a +great deal of your time and much of your slender means toward securing +the comfort of their lamented father--" + +"And burying him," put in Mr. Bingle. "Don't forget that I buried +him." + +"--and they are prepared to settle a certain amount upon you for life, +Mr. Bingle." + +"Well, that's nice of them," said Mr. Bingle. + +"The amount will be decided upon at some subsequent meeting. In the +meantime, you are to accept from them the sum of one thousand dollars +for the purpose of providing yourself with--" + +"I've just got to interrupt, Mr. Hoskins. I do it for your own sake. +You are wasting time and words. I shan't take a penny, as I said +before. I will not allow them to settle a certain amount upon me. +That's flat, Mr. Hoskins. I know how to be poor a blamed sight better +than I know how to be rich. It won't be a new thing to me. I'll get +along, so don't you worry. I have kept the books for this estate ever +since I came into control of it, just because I like to be busy at +something I know how to do without asking the advice of the butler or +anybody else. The books and accounts have been kept straight up to +this very day. You can put your auditors and expert accountants at +work on them to-morrow, if you like, and you'll find that they balance +to a cent. So, you see, I've not allowed myself to get rusty with +prosperity." + +"Most extraordinary," said Mr. Hoskins. + +"When the time comes, I shall be able to turn over the estate a good +deal better than I found it. It has increased under my management. I +could not have begun to spend the income from the investments. Your +clients will find themselves in possession of an extra million or two +apiece to recompense them for their long wait. I do not expect or +solicit thanks for managing the estate while it was under my control. +Please tell them so, Mr. Hoskins." + +"My clients are not disposed to exact a complete, minute accounting +from you, Mr. Bingle," said Mr. Hoskins, somewhat at a loss for means +to meet the unexpected. "Naturally we, as their attorneys, are +expected to ascertain the condition of the estate, and all that sort +of thing. I am quite sure that we will find it--er--in excellent +order." + +"Before I forget it, perhaps I'd better mention one or two +expenditures that I have made in the past twenty-four hours," said Mr. +Bingle thoughtfully. "I have taken it upon myself to pay all of my +just debts before the order of the Court takes effect. In other words, +sir, I have settled in full with my attorneys, my doctors and my +servants. They are paid up to the minute, Mr. Hoskins." + +The lawyer stared. "Do you mean to say that you have paid out of the +estate the fees--undoubtedly exorbitant--of these lawyers for the ten +years' fiddling they have been--" + +"My doctor's name is Fiddler, sir," interrupted Mr. Bingle, looking so +hard into Mr. Hoskins' eyes that once more the interruption passed +unresented. "I have paid them all in full, if that's what you are +trying to get at." + +"Don't you know that such an act is distinctly illegal?" demanded Mr. +Hoskins. + +"So my lawyers informed me." + +"And yet they permitted you to hand over to them large sums of money +in the nature of fees without waiting for an order of the Court, +knowing full well that an opinion had been handed down? It is +incomprehensible!" + +"It shouldn't be incomprehensible to you, Judge Hoskins," said Mr. +Bingle gently. "You are a lawyer yourself." + +"Am I to infer that you--What do you mean, sir?" + +"I leave that entirely to you, sir." + +Mr. Hoskins coughed, although there was nothing to indicate that it +was necessary. + +"It is possible, sir, for my clients to bring suit against you for a +full accounting of all monies that you have expended or misused in--" + +"I wouldn't say that, if I were you, Judge Hoskins." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bingle. For all monies that belong or have +belonged to the estate of their father. I say it is possible for them +to do so--but not likely. You should not forget that this estate +virtually has been held in trust by you for all these years, pending +the final decision--a point agreed upon by my clients and yourself in +the desire to increase the value of--" + +"If they feel inclined to bring such a suit, Mr. Hoskins, I shall not +combat it," said Mr. Bingle drily. "They may take judgment by default. +They are used to waiting by this time, so it won't be anything new for +them to wait a million years for what they'd get if they sued me. By +carefully hoarding a couple of dollars a year for a million years, I +fancy I could in the end be able to take care of the judgment. But it +hardly seems worth while, does it? It is barely possible that your +clients might die before that time is up, even though I should +survive." + +"I fear that you do not realise that this is no joking matter, Mr. +Bingle," said Mr. Hoskins stiffly. He was not quite so pompous as when +he entered the house. + +"I fear that you did not realise it either, Mr. Hoskins, when you +spoke of suing me." + +"Ahem! And now, sir, when may we arrange for a conference over the +transfer of all properties now in your hands, or under your control, +as coming from the estate of the late Joseph Hooper?" + +"You may call up my attorneys by telephone this afternoon, sir, and +arrange anything you like. They are still in my employ, according to +our agreement of yesterday. I've paid them to see that I have nothing +left when they get through with me, so there's nothing to worry about. +Confer with them, Mr. Hoskins, and when you are ready I'll come down +and do whatever is necessary in the premises. In the meantime, convey +my thanks to my cousins and say that when they refused to accept a +portion of the estate from me ten years ago they made it impossible +for me to accept anything from them now. What they were too proud to +accept, I also am too proud to take. Thank you for coming out to see +me, Mr. Hoskins. I know you are a very busy man, and I know it must +seem like a prodigious waste of time to be interesting yourself in the +affairs of a poor bookkeeper without a cent to his name. For that is +what I am, Mr. Hoskins: a poor bookkeeper without a cent to his name +but still a believer in 'The Christmas Carol.'" + +"But that book actually was the cause of your undoing, sir. It--" + +"It doesn't matter," said Mr. Bingle wearily. "It is a good book, just +the same. If you will excuse me now, I must go to the city. I have an +appointment right after luncheon with a man who is going to show me a +flat." + +Mr. Hoskins surprised himself at this juncture--undeniably surprised +himself. "If you are going to the city at once, Mr. Bingle, perhaps +you will permit me to take you up in my car." + +Mr. Bingle's smile was quizzical. "You HAVE got something out of 'The +Christmas Carol' then," he said, and Mr. Hoskins eventually had the +grace to redden perceptibly. He was slow in grasping the connection, +however. + +The impoverished millionaire had a busy afternoon, and some annoying +mishaps--if they may be classified as such. In the first place, he +went to the bank and delivered his resignation as vice-president and +director. He handed it to Mr. Force and at the same moment applied for +his old job as bookkeeper. Mr. Force complimented him on his +promptness in both emergencies. It appears that the newspapers had +printed columns about the Bingle affair. Mr. Force was in possession +of all the facts. He had been interviewed by all of the reporters who +had failed to see Mr. Bingle and who had to be content with a +statement prepared and delivered by Flanders. + +"Your resignation comes just in time, Bingle," he said. "We have a +meeting of the board to-morrow. And as for the position, I'm happy to +say you can have it almost immediately. Ramsey is leaving. I thought +of you this morning when my secretary mentioned the fact. And, by the +way, I don't mind saying that we hope to have the Hooper heirs +continue their holdings in the bank. The account, as you know, is a +large one and we don't want to lose it. Besides, Geoffrey Hooper is +the sort of a chap who will help the bank tremendously if we put him +on the board. He stands very high socially and is hand in glove with +the richest people in town. I am to see him at three o'clock. By Jove, +it's nearly three. Excuse me, Bingle, if I appear to hurry you off, +but--" + +"I just wanted to ask how Kathleen is, Mr. Force," said Mr. Bingle, +who had not been asked to sit down. + +"She's all right," said Mr. Force. "Good-bye, Bingle. Tell Bashford I +said you were to have Ramsey's place. And, by the way, if I can ever +be of any service to you, Bingle, I wish you'd call on me." + +"Thanks. The job will be enough, I hope, Mr. Force." + +Force suddenly lowered his eyes. "I'd ask you to come and see +Kathleen, Bingle, but--but we're trying to break the child of her +homesickness, of her longing to see you. Time, of course, will do it. +You will understand, of course, that it is better for her--and for all +of us--if she doesn't see you." + +Mr. Bingle's face shone. "She--she still loves me, then?" he cried +softly. + +Force compressed his lips, and then admitted: "Yes, Bingle, old +fellow, she DOES love you. And, hang it all, why shouldn't she? I--I +want her to love me and not you. I can't look at you without envy in +my soul--eating my soul, do you understand?--and I could almost hate +you for the start you got of me in those long years with her. Oh, +don't laugh at me, Bingle. Don't stand there grinning like a hyena. I +suppose it will please you to hear that the poor child cries nearly +every night of her life because she--she misses you. I--" + +"You can bet it DOES please me," shouted Mr. Bingle. + +"Wait, Bingle! Don't go. What am I to do? How am I going to put +sunshine back into that little girl's face? Lord, man, I--I can't +stand it much longer." + +Mr. Bingle pondered. Then he laid his hat upon the table and took a +notebook and pencil from his pocket. While he scribbled, Force looked +on in perplexity. + +"There!" said Mr. Bingle, tearing out the sheet and handing it to the +president of the bank. "You may read it, Mr. Force. Give it to her, +and see if she doesn't brighten up a bit." + +Force read the note. He read it aloud, as if that was the only way to +get the full meaning of it. + +"'Dear Kathleen: Your old daddy loves you. You must always love him, +and you must make your new daddy fetch you to see him some day. Come +and see Freddie and all the other kiddies. They will be so delighted +to see you, for they all love you. And if your new daddy will fetch +you to see your old daddy once in a while, I am sure you will come to +love your new daddy as much, if not more than you love your old + + "DADDY BINGLE.'" + +"Give that to her, Force, and maybe she'll put her arms around your +neck and kiss you," said Mr. Bingle, and went swiftly out of the room, +leaving Force staring at the bit of paper as if fascinated. + +As he hurried from the bank, he met Rouquin, the foreign exchange +manager, who evidently had been lying in wait for him. + +"How do you do, Rouquin?" said he, stopping to proffer his hand to the +Frenchman. + +"See here, Mr. Bingle," began Rouquin, in an agitated undertone; "I +want a word or two with you about Napoleon. What is to become of that +child, now that you are down and out? Will he be sent to some accursed +charity home or--" + +"Possess your soul in peace, Rouquin," said Mr. Bingle, drawing back +to look more intently into the unfriendly eyes of the once amiable +Rouquin. "Napoleon shall have the best I can give him, no more. He is +as well with me as he could ever have been with his good-for-nothing +father, and if I choose to get rid of him later on to the best +advantage I won't be doing anything more despicable than his father +and mother did before me. Please bear that in mind." + +"I shall see to it that he is taken away from you before he is a week +older," cried Rouquin angrily. "You cannot expect me to leave that +helpless child--" + +"What have you got to do with it, Rouquin?" demanded Mr. Bingle +sharply. + +"I am his mother's friend. I promised her that he should have a fine +home. I swore to her that he should never know want or hardship or--" + +"There is only one way for you to take Napoleon away from me," said +Mr. Bingle, as Rouquin floundered for words to express himself. "And +that is to come up like a man and say that you are his father. +Whenever you can do that and whenever you can show me that you and his +mother are married to each other, I'll give him up to you, but not +before, you scum of the earth!" + +Rouquin went very red in the face and then very pale, and his thin +lips set themselves in a ghastly smile. + +"Good day, Rouquin," said Mr. Bingle, and went out of the bank. + +Mr. Epps was annoyed because his customer kept him waiting for nearly +half-an-hour. He was exceedingly crabbed and disagreeable as they set +out to look at the flat which was to be the Bingle home, provided the +rent was paid regularly and promptly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DECEMBER + + +The proverbial church-mouse was no worse off than Mr. Bingle at the +end of the fifth month of his reduction. Indeed, it is more than +probable that the church-mouse would be conceded a distinct advantage +in many particulars. A very small nest will accommodate a very large +family of growing mice; the tighter they are packed in the nest the +better off they are in zero weather. Moreover, in a pinch, the +parental church-mouse may stave off famine by resorting to a +cannibalistic plan of economy, thereby saving its young the trouble of +growing up to become proverbial church-mice. It may devour its young +when it becomes painfully hungry, and not be held accountable to the +law. With commendable frugality, the church-mouse first eats off the +tail of its offspring. Then, if luck continues to be bad, the +remainder may be despatched with due and honest respect for the laws +of nature. + +Now, with Mr. Bingle, it was quite out of the question for him to +devour even so small a morsel as Napoleon without getting into serious +trouble with the law, and it was equally impossible to obtain the same +degree of comfort for his young by packing them into a four room flat. +And then the church-mouse doesn't have to think about shoes and +stockings and mittens and ear-muffs, to say nothing of frocks and +knickerbockers. So he who speaks of another as being "as poor as a +church-mouse" does a grave injustice to a really prosperous creature, +despite the fact that it lives in a church and is employed in the +rather dubious occupation of supporting a figure of speech. Look +carefully into the present law of economics, if you please, and then +grant the church-mouse the benefit of the doubt. + +Mr. Bingle's flat could be found by traversing a very mean street in +the lower east side not far removed from the Third Avenue Elevated +tracks. Discovery required the mounting of four flights of stairs by +foot, and two turns to the right in following the course of the +narrow, dark hallway which led in a round-about sort of way to a fire +escape that invited a quicker and less painful death than destruction +by flames in case one had to choose between the two means of +perishing. + +Four rooms and a kitchen was all that Mr. Bingle's flat amounted to. +The four rooms contained beds; in the kitchen there was a collapsible +cot. In one of the rooms (ordinarily it would have been the parlour), +there was a somewhat futile sheet-iron stove in which soft coal or +wood could be used provided the wind was in the right direction. This +was, in fact, the parlour. The bed, by day, assumed the dignity of a +broad but saggy lounge, exceedingly comfortable if one was careful to +sit far enough forward to avoid slipping into its cavernous depths +from which there was no escape without assistance. Besides being the +parlour, it was also the library, the study-room, the dining-room and +reception hall. By night, it was the bed-chamber of Mr. Bingle. + +At the beginning of the cold snap that arrived quite early in +December, it also became the sleeping place of Rutherford, Rosemary +and Harold, the tiniest of the children, who piled in with the +uncomplaining occupant and kept him awake three-fourths of the night +trying to determine whose legs were uncovered and whose were not. With +six exceedingly active little legs wriggling in as many different +directions in pitch darkness, it was no easy matter, you may be sure, +to decide whether any two belonged to the same individual, and when it +came to pass that three of them were exposed at the same time the +puzzle was indeed a difficult one. + +Napoleon's crib also made its way into the parlour when the cold +weather came; and while Napoleon's legs stayed under cover pretty well +his voice, like Chanticleer's, arose before the sun. Frederick, +Wilberforce and Reginald slept in one room, Marie Louise, Henrietta +and Guinevere in another. In pleasant weather, Rosemary joined her +sisters, while Harold and Rutherford fell in with the other boys. +There never was a time, however, when Mr. Bingle did not have a bed- +fellow in the shape of one or the other of the two small boys. + +The fourth room was occupied by the maid-of-all-work, and as it was +primarily intended to be the servant's bedroom it is not necessary to +state that there was space for but one full grown person inside its +four walls. The collapsible cot in the kitchen represented the +foundation of an emergency guest chamber. Up to the present it had not +been called into use, but it was always there in readiness for the +expected and unexpected. + +It will be observed that no account is taken of Mrs. Bingle. The +explanation is quite simple. She went to live with her mother and +sister at Peekskill on the advice of Dr. Fiddler almost immediately +after the Supreme Court's opinion was handed down. Later on, she came +down to the city with her mother, who now received a small but +sufficient income through the death and will of a fairly well-to-do +bachelor brother. The old lady took a house in the Bronx and once a +week Mr. Bingle journeyed northward by subway and surface lines to +visit his wife. A smart little doctor from Dr. Fiddler's staff made +occasional visits to the Bronx and looked the part of a wiseacre when +Mr. Bingle appealed to him for encouragement. He smiled knowingly and +refused to commit himself beyond a more or less reassuring squint, a +pursing of the lips, and the usual statement that if nothing happened +she would be as fit as ever in the course of time. + +The cot in the kitchen was for Mr. Bingle in case Mrs. Bingle decided +to come back to him in health as well as in person. He consoled +himself with the daily hope that she would come dashing in upon him, +as well as ever and in perfect sympathy with his decision to protect +the helpless children they had gathered about them in their years of +affluence. + +He had stood out resolutely against all contention that the children +should be cast upon the world once more. Harsh words were used at +times by interested friends in their efforts to bring him to his +senses. They urged him to let them find homes or asylums for the +rapacious youngsters; they described them as so many Sindbads; they +spoke of them as millstones about the neck of a man who could never +get his head above water unless he cut loose from them; they argued +long and insistently about his mistaken ideas of justice, +responsibility, affection. He came back at them always with the +patient declaration that he would stand by the bargain made by himself +and his wife so long as God saw fit to give him the strength to earn a +living for their charges. + +"Why, confound you, Bingle," said Mr. Force to him one day at the +bank, "one would think that you still regard yourself as a +millionaire, the way you hang onto those kids. Cut them adrift, old +fellow. Or if you won't do that, at least let some of us help you in a +pecuniary way. Don't be so infernally proud and self-satisfied. It +wouldn't be charity. It would be justice. Now, see here, I've argued +this thing with you for three months or more and I'm getting tired of +your everlasting serenity. I know you are hard put to find enough +money to clothe and feed these kids, besides buying what your wife may +need. You are beginning to look shabby and you certainly are thinner +and greyer. What you ought to do, Bingle, is to turn those kids over +to a Home of some sort and settle down to a normal way of living. +Winter is coming on. You will have a devil of a time providing for ten +small children and a sick wife on the salary you are getting here. +Now, for heaven's sake, old fellow, take my advice. Get rid of 'em. +You owe it to your wife, Bingle. She ought--" + +"I owe it to my wife to take care of them alone, now that she is +unable to do her part," said Mr. Bingle simply. "We took them as +partners, so to speak. She is unable to manage her share of the +liability. Well, I'll do her part for her, Mr. Force, so long as I'm +able. The time may come when I shall have to appeal for help, or give +up the struggle altogether, but it isn't here yet. I can manage for a +while, thank you. Besides," and his face brightened, "we may have a +very mild winter, and the new tariff is just as likely as not to +reduce the cost of living, no matter what you croakers say to the +contrary. I've talked it over with Mrs. Bingle. She says she can't +come home until she is very much better, and I'll admit that the +children would be a dreadful strain upon her nerves at present. But +she says I'm to do just as I think best in regard to them. She thinks +I'm foolish--in fact, she says so--but I think I understand her better +than any one else. Down in her heart she knows I'm doing the right +thing. We'll wait, like old Micawber, for something to turn up. If it +doesn't turn up in a reasonable length of time, then I'll consider +what is best to do with the children." + +"Are you considering your own health, Bingle?" demanded Force bluntly. + +"No," said Mr. Bingle simply. "I've lived a decent, sensible life, so +what's the use worrying over something that can't be helped?" His +smile was cheerful, the twinkle in his eyes was as bright as though it +had never known a dim moment. + +"You should accept the standing offer of the Hooper heirs," said +Force. "They are disposed to be fair and square, Bingle. Three +thousand a year isn't to be sneezed at." + +"The Hooper heirs are sneezing at it, so why shouldn't I?" said Mr. +Bingle cheerily. + +"I suppose you'll read that ridiculous Christmas Carol on Christmas +Eve," said Force sarcastically. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Bingle. "That reminds me; I wish you'd let +Kathleen come down to see us on Christmas Eve. I think she'd enjoy the +reading." + +"I'll do it, Bingle," said Force after a moment. "Since she has been +allowed to go down to see you and those kids of yours, her whole view +of life has changed. You were right, old fellow. I believe she likes +me better as time goes on. At any rate, she is quite gay and happy, +and she doesn't look at me with scared eyes any longer. She kissed me +as if she really meant it the other day when I told her she could have +Freddy up to tea. I'd like to suggest, however, that you see to it +that the flat is thoroughly aired and all the germs blown out before +she comes down again to--" + +"You needn't worry, Mr. Force," said Bingle without a sign of +resentment in his manner. "We can't help airing the flat. Our greatest +problem is to keep from airing it. There isn't a minute of the day +that it isn't being aired." + +Besides Mr. Force, who was a friend by circumstance and not from +choice, Bingle possessed two loyal and devoted friends in Diggs and +Watson, proprietors of the Covent Garden Consolidated Fruit Company of +Columbus Avenue, Manhattan. They would have supplied him with +vegetables and cured meats without charge if the thing could have been +accomplished without his knowledge. They came often to see him, Watson +bringing his wife, the former Miss Stokes, and many a night was made +cheerful for the little man by these good sprites from another world. + +Mr. Diggs resignedly awaited the day when Mr. Bingle's maid-of-all- +work could see her way clear to become Mrs. Diggs, and the equal of +Mrs. Watson, if not her superior by virtue of the position of her +husband's name on the firm's business cards. But if Diggs was +devotedly loyal to Melissa, Melissa was equally loyal to Mr. Bingle. +Fifteen years of kindness had not been wasted on this extraordinary +servant. She was as true as she was unique in this age of +abominations. + +The older children went to a public school not far away, and Melissa +looked after the young ones through the long, slow days, relieved only +from her self-imposed duties when Mr. Bingle came home from the bank. +Neither Melissa nor Mr. Bingle had had a full day off in all these +months, and neither complained. When Sunday came, he always urged her +to spend it with friends, leaving him to attend to the midday meal and +dinner, but she firmly, even arrogantly, refused to permit any one to +meddle with her kitchen. She forced him to go to the Bronx every +Sunday afternoon, whether he would or no, and demanded a staggering +decrease in wages. + +"Why, Mr. Bingle," she said, "you can't expect me to work for the same +pay I was getting out at Seawood. Don't be silly, sir; wasn't I +getting more out there than the butler got? And didn't I save nearly +every cent of it for eight years and more? I was getting twenty-five +dollars a week out there, wasn't I? And Mr. Diggs was getting only a +hundred dollars a month, wasn't he? Well, how much could you afford to +pay a butler now if you had one, sir? Two dollars a week at the +outside, find himself. Well, I still feel I'm worth more to you than +any butler you could get, so I'll have to insist on three dollars a +week when convenient. I put away about eight thousand dollars while I +was working for you at Seawood. It's in the savings banks now, every +nickel of it, drawing three and a half and four per cent., or about +twenty-five dollars a month, sir. Twelve and twenty-five makes thirty- +seven a month, don't it? That's more than most girls are getting, and +it's certainly more than any of 'em is worth, judging from what I've +seen. So if you'll just consider that I'm getting thirty-seven a month +out of you, Mr. Bingle, we won't argue any longer." + +"But, my dear Melissa, we must consider poor Diggs. It isn't fair to +keep him waiting. I fear I shall have to discharge you. It seems to be +the only way to make you and Diggs happy. I shall discharge you +without a recommendation, too. We can't have Diggs dying of old age +while we are discussing what is to become of him. It is your duty to +marry Diggs at once. You must remember that I do not want you in my +employ. You must not forget that I told you so six months ago and that +I even tried to lock you out. Now, you certainly do not care to work +for a man who despises you, who doesn't want you around, who is doing +his level best to get rid of you, who--" + +"Oh, shucks, Mr. Bingle!" cried Melissa, with her comely grin. "Sit +down and have your breakfast now. Don't worry about Mr. Diggs. He is +having the time of his life courting me. At least, he acts as if he +is. It won't hurt him to be engaged for a couple of years." + +"But see how happy Watson is." + +"I see all right," she said shrewdly; "and it won't hurt Mr. Diggs to +see how happy he is, either." + +"You are the most selfish girl I've ever known, Melissa," said he +quaintly. "You won't let anybody else have a thing to say about it, +will you?" + +"No, sir," said Melissa. "I'm a perfect brute." + +Mr. Epps was a regular visitor. He came once a month and never later +than the first. The rent was twenty-two dollars a month. Mr. Epps was +always expecting that it wouldn't be paid. He never failed to make a +point of telling Mr. Bingle that he was what you might call a soft- +hearted lummix and for that reason it always went hard with him to +evict a tenant for not paying his rent on the minute. He talked a +great deal about the people he had chucked out into the street and how +unhappy the life of a renting agent could be at times. Once he gave +Mr. Bingle a cigar. + +"Sure I'm not robbing you?" said Mr. Bingle. + +"No," said Mr. Epps. "I don't smoke." + +There was one Broadway theatre in which it was impossible to obtain +seats unless they were applied for weeks in advance. The leading lady +in the company playing there was not so important a personage that she +could deny herself the pleasant sensation of being a real woman, and +the author of the play was not so high and mighty that one had to use +a ten-foot pole in touching him. + +Mr. and Mrs. Richard Sheridan Flanders paid frequent visits to the +home of Mr. Bingle. The beautiful and popular Miss Colgate, the +sensation of the early season and a certain candidate for stellar +honours, never came to see the young Bingles without betraying a +spirit of generosity which sometimes caused Mr. Bingle to sit up half +the night treating stomach-aches of all ages and degrees. She brought +candy and cakes and fruit for the children, and flowers for Mr. +Bingle. She would have come laden with more substantial and less +pernicious presents but for the gentle objections of her old friend +and benefactor. In the face of his kindly protests, she abandoned +certain well-meant, even cherished ideas, and was often sore at heart. + +Dick Flanders had found a producer after all. His hopes, considerably +dashed by the Supreme Court of the United States of America, were at a +low ebb when a practically unknown manager from the Far West concluded +that there was more to his play than the wise men of the East were +able to discern at a glance. With more sense than intelligence, the +Westerner leaped into the heart of New York with a new play by a new +author and scored a success from the opening night. Amy Colgate, an +unknown actress, became famous in a night, so to speak. After the +holidays, there would be a company playing the piece in Chicago, and +another doing the "big stands" throughout the length and breadth of +the land. So much for Mr. Flanders' play and Miss Amy Colgate. + +Mr. Bingle never ceased congratulating himself and his two successful +friends on the fact that he had not invested a cent of the Hooper +fortune in the production. For, said he, if he had put a penny into +it, the Hooper heirs would now be dividing the profits with Flanders. + +"Luck was with us for once, Dick," he was prone to repeat. "A week +later and we would have been desperately involved. I would have put up +the initial ten thousand dollars for the production and you would have +been saddled with Geoffrey and his sisters, perhaps for life--and I +can't imagine anything more unnecessary than that. Yes, sir, the smash +came just in the nick o' time. What at first appeared to you to be a +calamity turned out to be a God-send, my boy. The Supreme Court +behaved handsomely by you." + +This always brought out a vigorous protest from Mr. and Mrs. Flanders. +They stoutly maintained that Mr. Bingle was an original partner in the +enterprise, and, when it came right down to tacks, had put quite as +much capital into the business as either of them. They contended that +he should have a share in the royalties, if not in the profits. + +"As a matter of fact, Mr. Bingle, you made so many valuable +suggestions in respect to the play--dialogues, construction and so +forth--that you really ought to take some of the consequences," said +Flanders. "It isn't fair to put all the blame upon me. For instance, +who was responsible for cutting out that scene in the second act?" + +"Mrs. Bingle," said the other promptly. "She thought it was too +suggestive." + +"Well, it certainly was you, sir, who advised me to make more of the +scene between Deborah and the old gentleman in the last act. As you +know, it is now the great scene in the play. You will not pretend to +deny--" + +"Advice is one thing, Dick, and following it is quite another. No, you +can't make me believe that I did anything toward writing that play. A +man who didn't know the difference between a cue line and a back drop +can't very well be indicted for complicity. To tell you the truth, +Mrs. Flanders, I don't know to this day what those initials, 'L. U. +E.' stand for, and a lot of other initials as well. Pride kept me from +inquiring. I didn't want to expose my ignorance about a thing that you +and Dick talked about so glibly. What does 'L. U. E.' mean?" + +"'Left Upper Entrance,' Mr. Bingle," said she with a laugh. + +"Well, I'm glad the mystery is revealed at last. I've laid awake +nights trying to conjure up words to fit those letters. 'R. U. E.' +means 'right,' I suppose. Dear me, how simple it seems, after all." + +"Now, see here, Mr. Bingle," Flanders would say, "you went into +partnership with me last winter, that's the long and short of it. It +wasn't your fault that you couldn't put up the money according to our +agreement, but I want to say to you that if it hadn't been for your +encouragement and advice I never would have finished the play and I +certainly could not have scraped up the courage to get married when I +did. Amy and I have always looked upon you as a partner in our +success. Now, I'll tell you precisely what we've decided upon as a +fair division of the royalties that I am receiving. You are to take +the author's royalty from the number three company--the one that is to +play the 'road' for this season and next. It is to be a three cornered +arrangement. Amy helped to develop the play, so she is to have the +royalty from the Chicago company, while I shall receive all that comes +out of the New York run. This arrangement will hold good for two +seasons. After that, we'll make a new arrangement, taking in the stock +rights, moving pictures and--" + +But Mr. Bingle would listen to no more. Always when Flanders got just +so far in his well-meant, earnest propositions, the object of his +concern would stop him in such a gentle, dignified manner that the +young playwright would flush with the consciousness that he had given +offence to an honest soul. + +Mr. Bingle defeated every enterprise on the part of his few friends +that had the appearance of charity. He accepted their good intentions, +he delighted in their thoughtfulness and esteem, but he never +permitted them to go beyond a certain well-defined line. The argument +that he had been generous, even philanthropic, in his days of +prosperity was invariably met by the quaint contention that while the +Good Book teaches charity, the dictionary makes a point of defining +it, and "you can't spell charity, my friend, with the letters that are +allotted to generosity. So don't quote the Bible to me." + +He put a stop to the cunning schemes of Diggs and Watson, who, with +Melissa's connivance, began a regular and systematic attempt to +smuggle bacon, eggs, butter and potatoes into the kitchen. This +project of theirs at first comprehended vegetables of every +description and fruits as well, but the sagacious house-maid vetoed +anything so wholesale as all that. She agreed that the accidental +delivery of a side of bacon, or a mistake in the counting of a dozen +eggs, or the overweighing and undercharging of a pound of butter, or +the perfectly natural error of sending a peck and a half of potatoes +when only a peck was ordered, might escape the keen observation of Mr. +Bingle, but that anything more noticeable would cause the good +gentleman to take his trade elsewhere. As she said to the distressed +Diggs one evening, after carefully observing that the kitchen door was +closed: "When I order a half ton of coal from you for the parlour +stove, there's no sense in you weighing it out by ounces. Guess at it, +and then after you've guessed as near right as you know how, double +the amount. Mr. Bingle isn't going to weigh the coal, you know. And +when it comes to rice and hominy and cooking apples and all such +things, just let your imagination do the measuring. If a pound of +coffee happens to look like a pound and a half to you, don't forget +the extra cups you used to have every afternoon at Seawood. And if I +should happen to send for the cheapest tea you've got in stock, don't +overlook the fact that there is an expensive kind. Once in a while you +might make ME a present of a couple of dozen oranges, some bananas and +nuts, and you might sometimes ask Mr. Bingle to sample a new brand of +smoking tobacco you're thinking of carrying." + +"But we sha'n't carry tobaccos," said Mr. Diggs, who aside from being +a good soul was also British. + +"All the more reason why you should be THINKING of carrying 'em, isn't +it, you stupid?" + +Mr. Bingle saw the opening performance of the Flanders play and went +behind the scenes afterward. He did this, he explained, so that he +could describe his sensations to Mrs. Bingle. He was introduced to all +of the players and they were so uniformly polite that he fell into a +fine fury the next morning on reading the newspaper review in which +they were described as "unintentionally adequate." + +He knew as well as every one else that it would be impossible for him +to keep the children on the salary he was receiving at the bank. He +knew that the day was not far off when he would have to give them up. +His fellow bookkeepers harangued him from morning till night. They +made themselves obnoxious with their everlasting talk about being +unable to support families one-fourth the size of his; and one or two +slyly inquired whether he hadn't "salted away" a part of the Hooper +money for a perpetual spell of rainy weather. In justice to the +children themselves it would be necessary for him, before long, to set +about finding suitable, respectable homes for them. It was this +unhappy sense of realisation that put the new furrows in his brow and +took the colour out of his cheek, the lustre from his eyes. + +One day he was approached by Rouquin, volatile and cheery as in the +days of old. The sprightly Frenchman was beaming with friendliness and +good spirits. He conveyed a startling bit of personal news to Mr. +Bingle without the slighest trace of shame or embarrassment. + +"Well, Mr. Bingle, I have married her," he said shrugging his +shoulders in a manner that might have signified either extreme +satisfaction with himself or lamentation over the inevitable. "The day +before yesterday. I am now a proud and happy father, old friend." + +"Father?" murmured Mr. Bingle, bewildered. "You--mean bridegroom, +Rouquin." + +"So I do," cried Rouquin amiably. "But you forget Napoleon--little +Napoleon," he went on gaily. + +"You have married Napoleon's mother?" + +"Le diable! But who else, M'sieur? The charming, adorable Mademoiselle +Vallemont. Ah, my good friend, I am so happy. I am--" + +"Vallemont? But Madame Rousseau--you seem to forget that she is the +mother of Napoleon. You--" + +"Nevertheless," said Rouquin, with a gay sweep of his hand before +laying it tenderly upon his heart, "I have married the mother of +Napoleon. Alas, my good friend, Madame Rousseau is no more. She died +when she was but one day old. And her excellent husband, the splendid +Jean, he also is a thing of the past. Now there is no one left but +Madame Rouquin and me and that adorable Napoleon. Vive l'Emperor! +Come, M'sieur, congratulate me. See! This cablegram provides Napoleon +with a father. But for what this little bit of paper says, the poor +enfant might have gone fatherless to his grave. See! It says here that +my wife has died. Read for yourself, M'sieur. It is in French, but +what matter? I shall translate. 'Raoul Rouquin: Blanche died to-day. +Good luck.' See, it is signed 'Pierre.' Pierre he is my brother. He +lives in Paris. Ah, so long have I waited! You may never know my +despair--never, M'sieur. But my wife she has died, so all is well. The +day before yesterday I was married. I take--" + +"For heaven's sake, Rouquin," gasped Mr. Bingle; "not so fast! I don't +know what you are talking about." + +"Ah, it is so simple," sighed Rouquin, looking upon Mr. Bingle with +pity in his eyes. "Can you not see? So long as my wife was alive I +could not be married. Is that not plain to you? Then she dies. Quick! +Instantly I am married. Voila! It is so simple." + +Mr. Bingle comprehended at last. "I see. You have had a wife in Paris +all these years, eh?" + +"Mon Dieu! Yes, all these years," groaned Rouquin, rolling his eyes. +"See! See what my brother Pierre says: 'Blanche died to-day. Good +luck.' Good luck! Mon Dieu, M'sieur, is it possible that you do not +know what 'good luck' means?" + +"And you have married Madame Rous--or whatever her name is?" + +"So quick as that!" cried Rouquin, snapping his fingers. "And now, +M'sieur, when may I come to take little Napoleon home to his mother?" + +Thus it came about that Napoleon was the first to go. Amid great pomp +and ceremony, he departed from the home of the many Bingles on a +bright, clear day in December, shortly after banking hours, attended +by his own mother and father. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE + + +Christmas was drawing near. The Bingle children, accustomed to +manifold and expensive presents, were in a state of doubt and hope +combined. The older ones realised that while Santa would not pass them +by without a sign, there was every reason to believe that he would not +deliver the things for which they slyly petitioned, the things they +most desired. They had been brought up to receive all that they +expected and the prospect ahead for them was not reassuring from the +viewpoint their intelligence forced them to take. There were secret +lamentations and not a few surly discussions in the absence of Mr. +Bingle. + +Melissa took the older boys to task for some of the things they said +about their foster father. Frederick was the chief offender. He knew +that Mr. Bingle's pocket-book was the real Santa Claus, and he wanted +a pair of skates and a hockey outfit. Something told him that he would +be compelled to accept in lieu of these necessities a silly overcoat +or a pair of shoes from the cheap department store up the street. He +was too young and no doubt too selfish to admit that he was by way of +outgrowing his clothes at least once if not twice a year, or that +there is such a spectre as wear and tear. He became sullen, irritable +and not infrequently rude to Mr. Bingle. Once when Melissa sharply +rebuked him for his ingratitude, he came back at her with an argument +that baffled her for the time being: he could not see why Mr. Bingle +had been so good to Kathleen. Why had she been given a rich, happy +home while he and all of the others were brought to a place like this? +Melissa, finding no immediate response to this, boxed his ears. + +The younger members of the brood were not involved in this graceless +agitation. The complaints stopped with Guinivere. Harold, Rosemary and +Rutherford were too young to realise the state of destitution into +which the family had fallen. They were quite happy, contented and, so +far, unaware of the gravity of a situation which was more or less +apparent to their elders. Frederick, Marie Louise and Wilberforce +formed the higher group of malcontents, and their mutterings reached +the acute ears of a second and less formidable group composed of +Reginald, Henrietta and Guinivere. The influence of the three older +children, envied and imitated by the next three in order of age, was +responsible for the inclusion of this second group in the general +tendency toward unruliness and resentfulness. + +Mr. Bingle sensed this unhappy condition of affairs. His soul was +sorely tried. Was he doing the right thing by these children? He was +doing his best, but was his best all that they were entitled to under +the circumstances? Was he depriving them of a bigger chance in life? +He had taken them out of the byways, but was he leading them to the +highways? The whining, peevish submission on the part of the larger +boys and girls; the unmistakable interrogation that always lurked in +their eyes; the frequent outbursts of temper; the quarrels that came +up every day among them--all of these went to prove they were sliding +back into the byways. There was no gainsaying that, he would say to +himself. Insolence, insubordination grew apace. Once Frederick, in the +heat of passion over a well-deserved rebuke, called him a "damned old +fool." + +Moreover, was he doing right by Mrs. Bingle? Was it possible that she +might never come back to him who loved her more than he could have +loved even a child of his own? Would he be the one to blame? + +And so it came about that he finally consented to listen to the +suggestions of the cold and unemotional Mrs. Force. + +The wife of the president of the bank was the sort of person who gets +into the newspapers by all the hooks and crooks known to her sex. To +begin with, she made charity a business. As Chairman of two or three +organizations declaring for the betterment of society, high and low, +she was quoted on nearly every question that came up for discussion in +the public prints. She recognised the advantage in her day of being an +anti-suffragist. She saw the value of associating herself with the +movement to create and maintain a bureau for the distribution of high +class literature among low class readers, and she belonged to a +society which elevated the stage by giving Sunday night dress +rehearsals for the benefit of destitute millionaires. She had a +conspicuous box at the Opera, and encouraged the Society for the +Prevention of Cruelty to Animals by appearing at the Horse Show in +Madison Garden without spurs. + +But it was as President of the Society for the Restoration of King +Manuel to the throne of Portugal that she arose above the ordinary +multitude of publicity seekers. This was a movement so unique and so +suggestive of pomp that many of the prominent show-girls tried to +promote themselves into royal notice by joining the society. They were +almost unanimously in favour of the Restoration. Mrs. Force was +constantly being interviewed about the hopes and designs of King +Manuel, and she was always quoted as saying that the "time is not yet +ripe for the unfolding of our plans or I would be only too happy to +tell you everything--and I may be able to give you something of +interest next week if you will call me up." + +Soon after the Bingle disaster, she allied herself with a Society for +the Relief of Incompetent Parents, and later on took up the cause of +Children's Rights and Wrongs. Quite palpably it was Mr. Bingle's +dilemma that inspired her to interest herself in these hitherto +neglected enterprises. She began her duties as a member and supporter +of the causes by at once declaring war upon poor Mr. Bingle. She put +him into a state of siege before he even suspected that hostilities +had begun, and then constituted herself Red Cross nurse, sanitary +expert, peace intermediary, and everything else that she could think +of at the time. + +Operations began in November. She had Mr. Bingle brought into her +husband's private office at the bank, and there she explained the +motives and objects of the Society and talked unrestrainedly of the +rights of little children, calmly assuming that the astonished +bookkeeper had no rights of his own and therefore was not entitled to +a word in the shape of interruption. + +"Purely as a matter of humanity, Mr. Bingle, it is necessary for the +Society to take these children away from you. We are taking children +away from their natural parents every day and finding suitable homes +for them, so it isn't reasonable for you to stand in our way, +realising, as you must, that you are not the father of a single one of +those poor innocents, all of whom are morally if not legally the +property of this or kindred societies. We do not recognise the rights +of a parent, so why should we consider those of one who attempts, +through a mistaken idea of benevolence, to direct the future, the +destiny of--ah--the destiny of--But surely you know what I mean, Mr. +Bingle. Now, I am not questioning the sincerity of your motives. I am +heartily in accord with the original inspiration which led you to take +these poor waifs into your home. But, don't you see, the idea works +both ways. Charity begins at home, to be sure, but I submit that it +all depends upon the character of the home. I do not call a four room +flat a home. It may be all right for charity to begin there, in a +small way, but it shouldn't drive out common sense, Mr. Bingle. The +Society will take these children off of your hands. It will provide +for them in every way. Come, now, give me a complete list of the +little ones and--" + +"I'll--I'll think it over, Mrs. Force," said Mr. Bingle desolately. "I +can't be expected to see it from your point of view right at the +start, you know. Let me go on for a year or two longer and then--" + +"No," said she firmly, fixing him with a relentless eye. "We would +regret exceedingly to be forced to call upon the authorities in the +case, Mr. Bingle. Of course, you are aware that we can invoke the aid--" + +"Oh, goodness no!" cried Mr. Bingle piteously. "You wouldn't think of +taking them from me in that way, would you, Mrs. Force?" + +"For your sake and for theirs it may be necessary," said she, and then +wearying of her philanthropic labours, abruptly dismissed him with a +curt: "And now, good day, Mr. Bingle." + +Agents from the Society began to visit the little flat; others made a +practice of seeing that the older children went to school every day, +and, if they were absent, to pester Mr. Bingle with inquiries. Once +when Wilberforce had a sore throat, a strange and extremely business- +like doctor called and took a culture, at the same time making a note +of the congested condition of the sleeping quarters. + +Then Mrs. Force took to bringing fashionably dressed ladies to the +flat so that they might see for themselves; and docile looking +gentlemen in dark clothes and galoshes came to mutter over the +extraordinary impropriety of allowing boys and girls to live in the +same home together. + +Soon after Napoleon was taken away by the bride and bridegroom, Mrs. +Force came with her secretary and interviewed the children. The +secretary took down notes while Mrs. Force put the questions to the +older boys and girls. Mr. Bingle had been virtually ordered out of the +room. Afterwards he was called in to hear the report which showed that +Frederick, Marie Louise, Wilberforce and Reginald seldom had enough to +eat, were always cold and unhappy, and were really quite eager to go +into other homes, if it would help "poor daddy." The smaller children +whimpered, but it was because they were overawed and frightened by +Mrs. Force, who in the Seawood days had always been looked upon by +them as the "bad fairy." Melissa, good soul, openly professed that she +and Mr. Bingle could manage to take care of the "kids" all right, but +in secret she prayed that the Society would take away a half a dozen +or so of the little ingrates. + +At last Mr. Bingle agreed to let the children go, but stipulated that +they should be sent direct to private homes, and not go, like a flock +of sheep, into an asylum or Orphans' Home from which they might be +parcelled out singly to any Tom, Dick or Harry who came to look them +over. He also insisted on having the prospective "bidders" apply to +him in person. He would be the judge. He would look them over, and if +they suited him, all well and good; if not, he would keep the children +until the right and proper persons came along. + +His stand was a firm one. He refused to recede an inch from this final +position. In vain they argued that it would be the part of wisdom, in +fact that it would be absolutely imperative to take them to a +comfortable, commodious dormitory where the business end of such +undertakings was attended to in routine order and not in the helter- +skelter fashion that he advocated. + +"I have just begun to realise," he said, "what it is to try to bring +other people's children up for them, so, if you please, I submit that +I know more about the business than this society knows or ever can +hope to know. I have given them everything. I have loved them and they +have loved me. In adversity I still love them, but I fear that I +cannot say as much for them. They are not my flesh and blood. They +know it, my friends--they've never been led to believe that anything +else is the case. Now, I am ready and willing to carry out my +obligations to them. I am prepared to do all that is in my power to +bring them up in the right way, to make good men and women of them. I +am not willing, however, to palm them off on other people without +first telling those people what they are to expect. I do not blame +these boys and girls for resenting what fate has brought them to. It +is quite natural that they should feel as they do. I do not call it +ingratitude. It is human nature. Even a small boy may reveal symptoms +of human nature, Mrs. Force, if you get him into a corner. Now, I want +to say to you and your friends here that I will let them go on one +condition, and that is that each goes into a home that I personally +approve of and only after I have told the head of that home all that I +know about the child he seeks to adopt. I appreciate your interest in +my behalf and I thank you for your untiring efforts. I believe that +you are sincerely in earnest. But I ask you to do me the honour of +permitting me to get out of my bad bargain in my own way and in my own +time. There is no especial need of haste." + +It was pointed out to him that many of those desiring to adopt +children lived in distant states and cities, principally in small +towns or upon farms. It might be impossible for them to come to New +York to see him or the children. He still refused to give an inch. + +And so the Society, satisfied that it had achieved a victory, set +about to find fathers and mothers for the nine Bingles, and Mr. Bingle +sat down to wait for the final struggle that was to come, or, more +properly speaking, for the nine separate struggles that lay ahead of +him. The children were told what they might expect in the near future, +and Mr. Bingle's heart was sorely hurt by the very evident enthusiasm +with which they received the news. The younger ones, swept along by +the current, and less subtle than their elders, plied Mr. Bingle with +a hundred eager, innocent questions, and every one of them seemed to +look upon the coming separation as a lark! It was not unusual to catch +two or three of the older ones slyly, but excitedly discussing the +prospective change, and always they averted their eyes and dropped +their voices when Mr. Bingle drew near. Once he heard Marie Louise say +in anger to Wilberforce that she'd bet daddy would keep her to the +last because she was getting big enough to wash dishes and make beds! + +The poor man was beginning to lose faith, not in human nature alone, +but in himself. He grimly remarked to Melissa one day that "it isn't +safe to count chickens even after they are hatched, especially when +your eyes are smarting. I thought I knew more than God, Melissa, and +if there was a bramble bush handy I'd jump into it in the hope that I +might scratch my eyes back in again, as the saying goes." + +"Well, anyhow, Mr. Bingle," Melissa replied, impressed by this +confession of failure, "as soon as the kids have left we'll have Mrs. +Bingle back again, and that's something to look forward to, sir. We'll +go back to the old way of living, which was the best, after all, +wasn't it? Just you and me and Mrs. Bingle." + +Mr. Bingle hesitated for a moment. "When you and Diggs are married, +Melissa, don't make the mistake of adopting a child." + +"We won't, sir," said Melissa confidently. She twisted the corner of +her apron for a few seconds and then ventured hardily: "Miss Stokes is +expecting a baby, sir." + +"You mean Mrs. Watson, Melissa. Dear me, that is good news. A boy or a +girl? God bless my soul, what a silly question! You see, I'm so in the +habit of choosing the gender in advance that I quite forgot myself. I +meant to inquire WHEN." + +"They've been married five months, sir," said Melissa. + +Two weeks before Christmas, Mrs. Force came to the bank to report to +Mr. Bingle that homes were in view for six of the children, in fact +for all except Frederick, Marie Louise and Wilberforce. It appears +that people hesitate about taking youngsters as old as these three, +and as steeped in vice and ignorance as naturally might be expected in +boys and girls of that age. She said, however, that the Society was +making a point of telling people how nicely and how advantageously all +of the children had been reared by the late Mr. Bingle. She smiled +when she said the "late Mr. Bingle," for it was a capital joke and she +had every intention of making the most of it. + +It was proposed that the applicants should meet Mr. Bingle and the +children at the offices of the Society on the Saturday before +Christmas, which fell on a Thursday. + +Mr. Bingle objected. He said he couldn't think of letting them go +before Christmas. These people would have to wait until after +Christmas Eve, and that was final. President Force, coming to his +wife's rescue, ironically suggested to the little bookkeeper that it +was barely possible that other people were in the habit of inflicting +children with "The Christmas Carol." He flushed, however, under the +mild stare with which Mr. Bingle favoured him, and proceeded to change +his tune with considerable alacrity. A happy thought seemed to have +struck him with some suddenness. + +"By Jove, Bingle, I have a splendid scheme. What could be more fitting +than that these child-seekers should receive just what they want on +Christmas morning? That's the ticket, my dear," he said, turning to +his wife. "Fix it so that a child is delivered bright and early on +Christmas morning--in its own stockings, of course--and there you are! +A Merry Christmas for everybody, and perhaps a Happy New Year. What do +you think of it, Bingle?" + +"Splendid!" said Mr. Bingle. "I wish I could have thought of that when +I was in the business myself. It would have been great to have a new +baby every Christmas morning. I will agree to that, Mrs. Force, +provided I approve of the people I'm supposed to be Santa Claus for." + +On the Saturday before Christmas he went to the offices of the Society +with ALL of the children, for the industrious Mrs. Force had produced +claimants for the three older ones, and when he took the brood home to +supper long after seven o'clock that evening, homes and fresh parents +were assured for all of them. To be sure, Frederick and Marie Louise +objected to living on upstate farms, and Reginald howled bitterly over +being promised to a Jewish family in West End Avenue. He had set his +heart on being brought up as an Irishman. Some of them were to remain +in New York City, one was to go to Philadelphia and another to +Bridgeport. Harold, Rosemary and Rutherford were to undergo a complete +change of name. They were going into families where for sentimental +reasons, a John, a Betty and a Jeremiah were wanted. Guinivere stood +in grave danger of being called Prue, after somebody's grandmother, +and Henrietta was to be shortened to Etta. + +It was understood that the agents from the Society were to call for +the youngsters on Christmas Eve, so that they might be ready for +delivery the first thing in the morning. The Society was prepared to +attend to all of the legal requirements incident to the transfer. Mr. +Bingle was to sign what he quaintly called a "blanket affidavit," +covering the entire collection, and that was to be the end of the +Bingle regime. + +Christmas Eve came at last. The day had been bitterly cold, and Mr. +Bingle coming in from his final walk with the four small children, who +had been taken out to see the lighted shop windows before the last +supper they were to have together, was blue in the face and shivering +as with a chill. Melissa caught him in the act of removing his muffler +from Rosemary's neck. He had already taken his thin overcoat from +Harold's shoulders, so she missed that part of his personal sacrifice. +She asked with considerable asperity if he was trying to get +pneumonia. + +"No," said Mr. Bingle, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering; +"I'm not, Melissa. I'm trying to head off the croup." + +"You'll probably have it yourself to-night." + +"I think that would be rather jolly," he said. "I haven't had it since +I was the size of Rosemary." + +She thought he was losing his mind, and told Diggs so when he came in +at six o'clock to help her with the feast they were to have. + +"Get away from that stove, Freddy, and you too, Marie Louise," she +commanded. "Can't you see your daddy is shivering? Hustle now! Don't +soak up all the heat in the room. Let him stand in front of the fire, +you little--" + +"Now, now, Melissa," said Mr. Bingle, reproachfully; "don't blame the +kiddies. They're cold and--by the way, is there no steam in the +radiator?" + +"I shut off the measly thing awhile ago," she said. "There was too +much cold air coming up through the pipes. Honestly, Mr. Bingle, if +you happened to stand near that there radiator you'd feel a draft." + +The children were dressed in their Sunday best, prepared for the +coming exodus. They were neat and clean, and although six months had +lengthened their bodies and shortened their garments, their patches +and shreds were not so vindictive that they slapped Mr. Bingle's pride +in face, if the metaphor is permissible. + +"I hope," said he, with his thin shoulders close to the fire, "that we +will have time for 'The Christmas Carol' before they--the--" his voice +shook a little--"before the gentlemen come for you, kidlets. Perhaps +if we were to hurry supper along a little bit, Melissa, we could +manage it." + +"I don't want to hear that thing again," said Frederick boldly. He +appeared to be the leader of a movement to squash "The Christmas +Carol." + +"Neither do I," said Marie Louise and Wilberforce. + +"I want to hear about Tiny Tim," piped up Rosemary, almost in tears. + +"Well, you haven't heard it all your life like we have," said +Frederick, scowling at the little one. "You've only heard it twice." + +"Dear me," sighed Mr. Bingle, in evident distress. "Don't you want to +hear 'The Carol' before you say good-bye to daddy--forever?" + +"No," said Frederick; "and I'll bet they don't read it where we're +going, either." + +"Perhaps not, Frederick," said he slowly, turning a rather wistful +face toward Melissa, who had come in with a pan full of coals. "There +is one thing I quite forgot, Melissa." + +"What's that, sir?" + +"I forgot to stipulate that the 'Carol' HAD to be read on Christmas +Eve in every one of these homes. Dear me, how could I have been so +thoughtless." + +"I wouldn't worry about that, sir. You're giving these people enough +trouble without doing that to them. And as for you, Master Frederick, +you'll probably find that instead of reading the 'Carol' to you +they'll take you out in the woodshed and give you a touch of Dante's +Infernal every once in awhile." + +"I'll--I'll kill 'em if they do," cried Frederick loudly. + +"Frederick the Great!" exclaimed Melissa with vast scorn. "Here now, +you there, get to work and fetch the chairs and stools in from the +bedrooms and put 'em up to the table. There's a couple in the kitchen, +Wilber. Hustle out and--" + +"Don't call me Wilber," snapped Wilberforce. "Haven't I always told +you I hate it? Remember you're only a servant. Don't you go--" + +"Tut, tut!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, moving over so that Melissa could +drop the coals into the stove. "Remember you are only a gentleman, +Wilberforce." + +"I'd like to know how I can remember it in a place like this," pouted +the boy. + +"It's all right, Mr. Bingle," said Melissa cheerily, "I don't mind +being called a servant. It's better than 'hired girl.'" + +There was a pathetic attempt at seasonable illumination and decoration +in the crowded living-room, sprigs of holly, some tapers and tinsel, +cotton snowballs and popcorn strands being in the least congested +corners, and the table had ten candles standing in two sedate rows. +These were not to be lighted until just before soup was served, and +each participant at the board was to light his or her candle from the +taper supplied by Melissa. + +Over in one corner of the room reposed a small pile of packages, each +neatly tied up with red ribbon. These represented the gifts of Mr. +Bingle and Melissa to the palpably indifferent youngsters. Two bottles +of milk stood on the radiator, which, according to Melissa, was +infinitely colder than the ice box in the pantry. Incidentally, it is +worth while to mention that in one of the bedrooms there were nine +compactly wrapped bundles, each marked by a name, but not tied up in +red ribbon. They contained the few belongings of the nine children, +and they were all ready for the coming of the Society's agents. During +the day Mrs. Force had sent her automobile and a footman to remove the +toys and treasures left over from the reign of plenty, taking them to +headquarters for future distribution among their owners. This was done +while Mr. Bingle was at the bank. He could not have endured this part +of the business. + +The Christmas Carol lay on the mantelpiece behind the stove, with Mr. +Bingle's reading glasses, both ready for use. + +At six-thirty Mr. Diggs appeared, laden with bundles, and at his heels +was Watson, carrying a tremendous basket. They were clad in huge fur +overcoats, their faces were red from the cold, and their voices were +vastly cheerful. + +"Merry Christmas, sir," said Diggs, and "Merry Christmas, sir," said +Watson. + +"I've taken the liberty, sir--I mean to say, Watson and I 'ave, sir-- +of fetching with us a thumping big Christmas dinner for you, seeing as +you will be quite alone and--er--you might say at peace again, sir. +Melissa, my dear, you will find hall the delicacies of the season in +these 'ere parcels, and I defy hanybody to show a finer turkey than is +in that basket. Wot say, Watson?" + +"Fit to set before the King," said Watson with great pride in his +voice. + +"Wherefore I say 'Long Live the King,'" said Diggs, bowing elaborately +before Mr. Bingle, whose eyes were shining as he went forward to shake +hands with his old servants. + +"God bless my soul, I--I--I thank you, gentlemen," he murmured. "But, +I say, wouldn't it be better to serve some of these things to-night, +before the children go away? What dif--" + +"Yes, yes!" shouted the children. + +"Begging your pardon, Mr. Bingle," said Diggs firmly, "but it is not +to be thought of, sir. This dinner is for you, and not a morsel is to +be served until to-morrow noon. These 'ere kids will 'ave their little +stomachs crammed full all day to-morrow and we hinsists that yours +won't be if we don't keep a pretty firm hand on you to-night, sir. +Take the things out in the kitchen, Watson, and--and 'ide 'em safe." + +"Well, well," said Mr. Bingle helplessly. "I don't know what to say, +Diggs. What would you say, Reginald, if any one was as nice to you as +Mr. Diggs and Mr. Watson are to me?" + +"I'd say open 'em up to-night and not be stingy," said Reginald, +following Watson with greedy eyes. + +Melissa glared at him. "Just for that I ought to hold back your share +of the chicken dumplings, young man!" Then she got quite red in the +face. Mr. Bingle was looking at her in amazement. + +"Chicken dumplings?" he murmured. + +"Well, you see, sir," said Melissa, "I thought as how it wouldn't +matter to you if I went out on my own hook and got a few things for a +Christmas Eve dinner--just a couple of nice fat hens, and some +asparagus, and parsley, and sweet potatoes, and--well, just a few +little things like that. Thinks I, we can't afford to let these +children go away without a bang-up meal in their little insides, so's +nobody could think they was ever hungry in their lives, and so this +morning I just stepped out and--oh, yes, I forgot, sir, I DID get a +few hot house grapes and one or two other trifles, just to make it +seem real, not to mention some celery and olives and fruitcakes." + +"Quite the thing, Melissa," said Diggs approvingly. "Quite the thing, +my dear. And did the men deliver the ham and firewood I--ahem! I beg +pardon!" + +"Are we to have firewood for dinner to-night, Diggs?" inquired Mr. +Bingle, his voice trembling a little despite his good-natured smile. + +"Oh, you stupid, blundering English," cried Melissa in a voice that +shrivelled Diggs. + +"That's it, sir, I AM a stupid, blundering Englishman right enough. +Blooming fool, sir, if you please. I didn't hintend to mention +anythink but the ham. The confounded firewood slipped in, sir. +'Owever, I trust you'll overlook it, sir." + +"I'm not overlooking firewood in this weather, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle +drily. "Won't you sit down? Excuse me for not--" + +"Oh, no, sir, thank you. I 'ave my duties to perform. Really, sir, I-- +" + +"Go out into the kitchen, Mr. Diggs," commanded Melissa sharply. "God +gave you a tongue, but he didn't give you anything to hold it with." + +"Quite so, quite so," agreed the flustered Mr. Diggs, edging toward +the kitchen whence through the open door came sounds of rattling pans +and the penetrating but comforting scent of stewed chicken. + +"It is good of you and Watson to come down this evening, Diggs," said +Mr. Bingle, speaking with difficulty. "This must be the busiest night +of the year for you. How could you afford to get away?" + +"Well, sir," said Diggs, after looking to Melissa for approval or +inspiration, "we decided as how Christmas comes but once a year, and +as the boys in the shop can manage very nicely without us for a couple +of hours, we says to ourselves we would come down and 'ear the +'Christmas Carol' if you don't mind, sir, for old times' sake. Miss +Stokes--I mean to say, Mrs. Watson, will be along presently, sir. She +stopped for a spell, to relieve the cashier while she went to supper. +And--" + +"That's enough, Mr. Diggs," interrupted Melissa. "You'll spoil it if +you go on." + +"Oh, I say, Melissa--" + +"Out to the kitchen with you, and get out of that fur coat. You are +perspiring like everything." + +Mr. Bingle called Diggs back just as he was on the point of +disappearing through the door. + +"By the way, Diggs," he said, smiling broadly, "have you heard the +news?" + +"The news, sir? Is--is Mrs. Bingle--" + +"Sh!" hissed Melissa. + +"The news about Melissa. She is going to be married in this very room +two weeks from to-night, Diggs. How is that for news?" + +"Married? Good God, sir!" gasped Diggs. + +"Married to you, Diggs, and I am going to give the bride away!" + +"Oh, pshaw, Mr. Bingle!" cried Melissa, covering her flaming face with +her apron. + +"Do--do you mean it, Mr. Bingle?" cried Diggs, with beaming eyes. + +"I do. I'm getting tired of seeing you two around, so I'm going to +MAKE you get married. Now, don't say you'll refuse, Diggs, for--" + +"Refuse! God bless you, sir--I--" + +"You see," went on Mr. Bingle, coming to the poor fellow's relief, "I +have a notion that Mrs. Bingle will be home by that time, and--and +we'll get along very cosily here in--but, run along, Melissa! Bring in +the feast! Hey, children?" + +The children shouted vociferously, and Reginald, pursuing Melissa to +the door, implored her to take back what she had said about the +dumplings. To his surprise, Melissa kissed him. + +Later on, Diggs returned from the kitchen and approached Mr. Bingle, +who was sitting beside the stove with his back to the door, holding +Rosemary and Rutherford on his knees. + +"Dinner is served, sir," said Diggs in his most formal, dignified +manner. + +Mr. Bingle looked up, surprised by a voice that came resounding down +from the past. The children were already staring open-mouthed at +Diggs, who stood attired in his well-remembered dress-suit, the +imposing, self-contained figure of a butler of the most approved type. + +"God bless my soul," gasped Mr. Bingle. + +"Quite so, sir," said Diggs smoothly. He drew out Mr. Bingle's chair, +and the little man, completely dazed, sank abruptly into it. The +children found their places, chattering like magpies. + +"Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning over to speak softly in Mr. +Bingle's ear. + +Then came Watson, in braid and buttons, stiff as a ramrod, chin high +in the air, and as supercilious as any footman in all the world, +carrying the soup. After a long, dry-eyed stare at the familiar figure +that had always seemed so unreal to him in the days when everything +belonged to fairyland, Mr. Bingle dropped his eyes and began fumbling +blindly for the bone-handled fork at his plate. + +He heard Frederick cry out: "I don't want to go away now, Daddy! +Hurray! We've got Diggs and Watson back!" And then came the eager +cries of many other voices, all of one accord. They wanted to stay! He +suddenly knew why. + +Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Through the mist that covered +his eyes, he saw the champagne glass that stood alone beside his +plate. + +[Illustration with caption: "Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning +over to speak softly in Mr. Bingle's ear] + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE LAST TO ARRIVE + + +Mr. Bingle was an optimist. It seems hardly necessary to make this +statement, but for the purpose of giving him a fair start along a new +line of endeavour we resort to the distinctly obvious, and then +announce that he brushed away the tears and laughed as gaily as any of +them over the surprises that followed the one which momentarily caused +him to falter. He was not given to looking upon the dark side of +things. Even as he sat there at the head of the long table, he +jocosely remarked to Diggs that he would have to borrow a saw from the +janitor the next day and reduce the size of his board by five feet at +least. Moreover, he could practice a little economy by cutting the +excess timber up into kindling wood, and no doubt something could be +saved by putting the over supply of china and glassware on the top +shelves of the pantry where it would be safe from demolition unless +the house took fire or an earthquake came along. Also a great deal +more room could be obtained in the flat by making firewood of the +extra chairs, to say nothing of the prospect of making a library and +conservatory out of the bedroom to be vacated by the boys. + +"As a matter of fact, Diggs, this flat isn't so bad as might appear, +and the location is excellent. Quite handy for the Elevated, and not +far from the river in case one wants to take a sail in pleasant +weather. The view from the kitchen windows is capital. You could see +East River quite plainly if it were not for the buildings. My idea is +to put some plants in the room over there--the conservatory, I mean-- +and I expect to get a dog later on. Mrs. Bingle is very fond of dogs. +See that window over there? Well, by sticking your head out of it a +little way you can see clear to heaven." + +"THAT window, sir?" + +"Yes, sir, that very one." + +"Why, it opens into the airshaft, sir." + +"To be sure it does. You have to look straight upward, of course, if +you want to see heaven, you know. And speaking of the airshaft, I am +reminded that it is really quite a picturesque one at times. The +windows across the way are sometimes very interesting, provided the +shades are up. Usually, however, when the shades over yonder are up, I +see to it that ours are down." + +"May I fill your glass again, sir?" + +"Is it empty?" + +"Quite, sir." + +"If you don't mind, Diggs, I think I shall save the rest of the wine +until after the children have gone," said Mr. Bingle, slowly. + +Diggs reflected. "Very good, sir. A splendid idea, sir." + +"And then I shall ask you and Watson and Melissa and Mrs. Watson to +drink with me to Mrs. Bingle." + +"Thank you, sir." + +"It does my heart good to see the way these young rascals eat, Diggs. +They haven't had a dinner like this in a long time. Have a little more +chicken, Wilberforce--and some Brussels sprouts. And how about you, +Rutherford? Anything more?" + +"I'll have some more soup, daddy," said Rutherford from his high +chair. He was just ending the third course. + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. + +Melissa had come in to see that everything was going along in proper +order. She looked hard at Mr. Bingle's plate and then at the gentleman +himself. He met her reproachful gaze with one of mild apology. + +"I'm saving my appetite for to-morrow, Melissa," he explained. + +"You're not eating a thing," said Melissa sternly. "Mr. Diggs, what +kind of a lummix are you? Can't you see that he's stinting himself +so's them--" + +"Now, Melissa," implored Mr. Bingle, "don't say anything on Christmas +Eve that you'll be sorry for afterwards. It's all right, I assure you. +I'm not very hungry and--" + +"But there's more than enough to go 'round," burst out Melissa +wrathfully. "There's no sense in your acting like this, Mr. Bingle." + +"Sh!" + +"Watson, give him some more of that chicken--the white meat, do you +understand? And where's the dressing? Mr. Diggs, get those rolls over +here--lively! Did he have any soup and fish? Did he--" + +"Melissa, what are you trying to do?" demanded Mr. Bingle. "Stuff me +so full I'll die in the night?" + +"And him lookin' that thin and pale and peaked," went on Melissa, +glaring at the unhappy butler and footman. "What have you got them +buttons and that striped vest for, Watson? Are you here as a +spectator? Get a move on now, both of you. And as for you, Mr. Bingle, +I'm going to stand right here and SEE that you eat. Do you suppose I +got up this meal for a joke on myself? Not much! The mashed potatoes, +Watson! Never mind, Freddy, you can have some more after your daddy's +had all he wants. Gee whiz, I'm glad I happened to come in when I +did!" + +Presently the door-bell rang--a feeble, broken tinkle reminiscent of +an original economy--and Mr. Bingle laid down his salad fork with a +sigh. The children started violently and a scared, uneasy look went +around the table. + +"The Society's agents," said Mr. Bingle, closing his lips tightly to +prevent their trembling. "Freddy, will you please go to the door?" + +"Beg pardon, sir," said Watson, almost reproachfully despite his +lordly air. Then, with stately tread, he passed into the little +hallway and threw open the outer door. + +"I don't want to go," Henrietta was crying, and even Frederic looked +intently at his plate with eyes that were preparing to fill. The rest +of them were ready to whimper. After all, a bountiful meal and a full +stomach go a long way toward producing a reaction. They were not so +keen to leave Mr. Bingle as they were before the meal began. + +"Mrs. Flanders! Mr. Flanders!" announced the high-chinned Watson. + +First of all, the new arrivals paused to stare in astonishment at the +liveried footman, and then for an instant at the imperious Diggs, +after which they turned their gaze upon the table. + +"Great Scott!" gasped Flanders. "Is this a dream?" + +"Not on your life," said Watson, completely forgetting himself in an +ecstasy of delight. + +There was a tremendous hub-bub, during which Diggs and Watson had a +great deal of difficulty in keeping their places as old and well- +trained servants. They were frequently on the verge of becoming +prosperous green-grocers and joining in the jollification. + +First, the gorgeous Miss Colgate kissed Mr. Bingle, almost smothering +the poor gentleman in the wealth of furs which enveloped and adorned +her. Then she kissed nine smart little cheeks in rapid succession, all +the while crying "Merry Christmas" and "bless your heart," in chorus +with every one else and her cheery-voiced husband. + +"Just had to run down, Mr. Bingle," Flanders was shouting as he pumped +the little man's arm violently up and down. "A year ago to-night it +all happened, you remember. Celebrating the greatest of all +anniversaries. How are you? Couldn't let THIS night go by without +seeing you, sir--couldn't possibly. Can't stay but a minute, though. +Due at the theatre at half-past seven. Amy goes on early in the first, +you know--of course, you know, having ordered her on when I had her +entering when the act was half over. How are you?" + +"Fine! Fine!" gasped Mr. Bingle, almost speechless. + +"And now," cried Amy Colgate, throwing open her fur coat, revealing a +dazzling gown of black and silver, "now for the fun! Mr. Footman, will +you admit the messengers from Humpty Dumpty land?" + +In came four sprightly clowns, chalked and patched, clad in spots and +spangles, dancing like mad and grinning from ear to ear. Whirling +around the table, dodging the stove, vaulting the empty chairs, they +stopped at last to deposit in a heap upon the floor a whopping pile of +parcels and bundles, the topmost being a huge box of American Beauty +roses. Almost before the wide-eyed, gaping youngsters could realise +what had happened, the motley quartette vanished into the outer hall, +the door banged to behind them and Mr. Flanders was shouting: + +"How's that for high? Eh? That's the way we do things up at Forty- +second Street. What have you got to say now, Mr. Bingle, on this Merry +Christmas Eve?" + +Mr. Bingle, quite as excited as any of the shouting children, sat down +very suddenly in his chair at the head of the table. + +"Sit down, Dick, and you, Amy, and--and have something to eat. I--I--" +He stopped short, realising that he did not know what he was saying, +but vaguely hospitable in spite of himself. Then his arm went up to +cover his eyes. + +"We haven't time," began Flanders, but caught a warning look from his +pretty wife. + +"We will have dessert and coffee with you, Mr. Bingle," she said, +coming over to lay her hand upon his arm. + +"Tha--that's fine," gulped Mr. Bingle with a mighty and partially +successful effort to regain control of his flitting senses. And it was +some time after that before he could trust himself to join in the +merry, excited chatter. He kept on repeating "God bless my soul," in +response to nearly every remark that was directed to him. + +"You are not to open a single package until after we are gone," +commanded Amy Colgate later on, confronting the eager, covetous +children as she arose from the trunk which served as a chair for both +herself and Mr. Bingle in Diggs's hasty readjustment of the seats at +table. "The roses are for you, dear Mr. Bingle, with my love--my real +love. I know that you will take them to Mrs. Bingle to-morrow, but +they are for you to-night. Give her my love and wish her a Merry, +Merry Christmas from Dick and me. Please God she may soon come back to +you and be as she used to be." She peered intently, questioningly into +his glistening eyes, and then put her arm suddenly around his neck and +cried softly in his ear: "Oh, you dear, dear old goose!" + +"Where is Melissa?" whispered Flanders to Diggs as that functionary +was helping him into his greatcoat. + +"Almost on your very 'eels, sir," said Diggs, as nervous as any one +else. + +"I say, Melissa," said Flanders, turning upon the beaming hand-maiden, +who stood in the kitchen door with Watson's wife, "let me have a look +at your kitchen." He fairly pushed his way into the kitchen, dragging +her after him. "Hush! Don't interrupt me, my girl. He may suspect +something and come hustling out here after us. Now, Melissa, I trust +you as I would trust the Government of the United States. You are as +honest as the sun, so I'm taking no chances in handing you this little +package to be delivered to Mr. Bingle when he sits down to his lonely +breakfast on Christmas morning. The kids will be all gone and he'll-- +well, he'll need something to brace him up a bit. Now, pay attention: +this is a copy of the first edition of 'The Christmas Carol,' and +stuck between the leaves is something that would cause this flat to be +robbed to-night if the news got down to the Bowery. Are you +listening?" + +"I--I am, sir," gasped Melissa, gripping the small package tightly and +shooting a look of apprehension at the kitchen window as if expecting +to see a thief pop into the fifth story window. + +"Well, there is a thousand dollar bill concealed in that book. Don't +drop it! It won't bite you. Put it under your pillow to-night, and be +sure he gets it for breakfast. The little note will explain +everything." + +"Goodness, Mr. Flanders, it's a dreadful thing to have in bed with a +person. I won't sleep a wink." + +"So much the better," said Flanders cheerfully. "Now, you'll not +forget to have it at his place in the morning, will you?" + +"If I live through the night, sir, it will be served with his coffee. +I shan't even tell Mr. Diggs." She did not mean this as a reflection +upon the integrity of her suitor, but, fearing that it might be taken +as such, she made haste to add: "So if I'm found murdered in my bed, +you needn't accuse him of doing it." + +In the meantime, Amy Colgate had kissed all of the children again and +was standing guard over the heap of presents, talking so gaily and so +incessantly that, despite Mr. Bingle's glances in the direction of the +kitchen, he was unable to satisfy his curiosity. + +"You really are quite cosy here, Mr. Bingle," she was saying. "Have +you anything new to show me?" + +He pondered. "I think there's a new hole in the carpet over there, +Mrs. Flanders. And I've taken a new lease on life. Dr. Fiddler dropped +in at the bank yesterday to tell me that Mrs. Bingle may be able to +come home before long, so you see I shall have to get busy fixing the +place up a bit. She likes to have everything neat and tidy, you know." + +"Is she still with her mother?" + +"Certainly. Fiddler says she may have to go to the hospital for a +while before coming here, but it's nothing to be worried about. A +trifling operation, he says. He's like all doctors. You never can get +'em to commit themselves. I shall go up to see her to-morrow. I've got +a little present for her, you know. I've sort of been expecting +something from her to-night--a pair of slippers or a half dozen +handkerchiefs or something like that--but perhaps they will come in +the morning. She never forgets me. Of course, being sick and +discouraged may have kept her from--and then again, on the other hand, +she may have crochetted me a dressing gown or a fancy waistcoat and +prefers to give it to me when I go out to see her to-morrow, not +wanting to trust it to the Express Company, don't you know. Well, +Dick, how do you like our kitchen?" + +"Bully! Come along, Amy. We mustn't be late. See you soon, Mr. Bingle. +You must bring Mrs. Bingle up to see the piece as soon as she's able. +By George, we ARE doing business, though. Sixteen thousand dollars +last week. Turning 'em away every night. Seventeen hundred dollars +last night and--" + +"Hush, Dick! Mr. Bingle knows you are an author. You don't have to act +the part, you know." + +"Right you are. It's getting to be a habit. I can't help contrasting +this Christmas Eve with the one a year ago. I didn't have ten dollars +to my name when I went out to hear you read 'The Christmas Carol,' Mr. +Bingle." + +"And now I haven't ten dollars to my name," said Mr. Bingle cheerily. +"Luck is like the sun, Dick. It doesn't stay up all the time. +Sometimes I look back upon the past ten years and wonder if they don't +belong to the fellow who wrote the 'Arabian Nights' and not to me. +They were not real, not a bit of it. And yet I can't remember ever +having found a queer old jar at the seashore, nor having released a +good geni from its smoky insides. So I suppose I really must have +lived them." + +"Don't let yourself get lonely, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders, gripping +the other's hand. "Don't allow yourself to mope over the loss of +these--ahem! They will all have nice, happy homes and grow up to be +splendid--" + +"Come on, Dick," called his wife from the little hall, where she was +surrounded by a suddenly repressed group of children. She had been +whispering something to them, and they were ashamed. + +The door-bell gave forth its stuttering tinkle once more, and again +the impassive Watson stalked to the entry. The next instant a white- +furred figure bounded through the door, rushed across the room and +precipitated itself forcibly into the arms of Mr. Bingle, who barely +had time to prepare himself for the onslaught. + +It was Kathleen. Behind her stalked the elegant Mr. and Mrs. Sydney +Force. + +There had been a time when Mrs. Force scarcely deigned to notice Miss +Amy Fairweather. But there is a great difference between a poor +governess and a popular goddess. The bright and shining star of +Broadway, with a suite of rooms at the Plaza, a fascinating and much- +courted husband, and a firm grasp on the shifting attention of the +idle rich, was a person to be recognised even by the charitably +inclined. And so Mrs. Force neglected to employ her lorgnon in +scrutinising Miss Colgate, and made the most of an opportunity to +release a long-suppressed effusiveness. + +Later on, in a moment of quiet obtained by a somewhat imperative +command to the noisy children, she announced to Mr. Bingle that she +must be running along to a dinner and the opera, and that she hoped he +would have everything ready when the agents for the Society called at +half-past eight, so that there would be no delay in getting the +youngsters off in a specially chartered Fifth Avenue stage. Then she +turned sweetly to Miss Amy Colgate and said: + +"May I take you up town in my car, Mrs. Flanders?" + +Mrs. Flanders replied just as sweetly. "No, thank you, Mrs. Force. Our +own limousine is waiting." + +"We've come to hear the 'Christmas Carol,' Bingle," said Mr. Force +after his wife and Mr. and Mrs. Flanders had gone. "Kathleen and I +expect to come to see you on every Christmas Eve, if you'll have us. +You've got us on your hands, old man, and you can't shake us off." + +"God bless my soul," said Mr. Bingle, visibly moved. "I remember that +you DID use it as an argument when you took Kathleen away from me. +Still, I bear it no grudge." + +"I love the 'Christmas Carol,' Daddy," cried Kathleen, snuggling close +to him. + +"Sh! You must not call me Daddy now, dear." + +"I shall! You'll always be my daddy." + +"And how about--" he pointed to Mr. Force. + +"Oh," she said easily, "I call him father." + +Then came the distribution of presents. A footman brought up numerous +gifts from the rich Kathleen to her one time foster brothers and +sisters. They had nothing to give to her in return, and Mr. Bingle +afterwards said that it was greatly to their credit that they were +able to look at him with an accusation in their eyes, for, said he, it +went to prove that they were mortified over not being in a position to +observe the old rule about giving and receiving. As a matter of fact, +several of them tried to transfer to Kathleen the simple, inexpensive +presents he had just given to them out of his own humble pile, all of +which, he argued, went far toward establishing his point, +notwithstanding the fact that they manifestly despised the very things +they were so ready to give away. He overheard Frederick whispering to +Kathleen that he hoped he was going to a place where he could have +enough money to buy her the right kind of a present for her next +Christmas, and that it was rotten luck to be as poor as all this. Mr. +Bingle strained his ears to catch Kathleen's reply, and it was such +that his face brightened; he afterwards sidled up to her and stroked +her hair with loving, gentle fingers. + +There was one rather large, cumbersome pasteboard box in the corner, +which Diggs passed up to him the last of all. + +"Don't open it till to-morrow, Mr. Bingle," said Melissa in a panic, +whereupon Diggs jerked it away from him with more haste than good +manners. It was marked quite plainly: "To Mr. Bingle from Melissa," +and bright and early the next morning it turned out to be a fur lined +overcoat. + +Once more Melissa was dragged into the kitchen, this time by the +furtive, uneasy Mr. Force. While they were out of the room a messenger +boy came to the front door with a small package for Mr. Bingle. + +"Ah, at last, something from Mary. I was sure she wouldn't forget me +on Christmas Eve. She never has and I'm sure--Hello! This isn't her +writing. 'Monsieur Thomas Singleton Bingle.' Now what can--" + +"Open it, Daddy," cried Kathleen. + +"Stand back! Maybe it's an infernal machine. These anarchists are +blowing up all the rich men in town nowadays. This may be the end of +me. Ah!" He had cut the string with a carving knife and now exposed to +view a box of cigars. There was a card attached. With some difficulty +he made out: "From your life-long friend, with best wishes for a Merry +Christmas and a Happy New Year." It was signed by "Napoleon." + +Mr. Force had closed the door behind him. He spoke in a hoarse +whisper, after a curt nod of the head to Mrs. Watson, who was vainly +trying to wash the dishes and at the same time see all that was going +on in the outer room. + +"See here, young woman, I want you to give these two envelopes to Mr. +Bingle when he comes in to breakfast in the morning." He produced two +long blue envelopes and thrust them into her hand. "Not a word to him +to-night, d'you hear? Put them under your pillow and sleep on 'em-- +with one eye open if possible." + +"Good gracious," she said, with her broadest grin, I shan't sleep for +a week. They look terribly important." + +"I'll tell you what they contain," said Mr. Force, after a moment. +"You ought to know what you are guarding, my girl. This one contains +Kathleen's present. Do you remember that pretty little cottage and +farm just above my place in the country? The cottage with the ivy and +the maples and the old stone wall? Well, this is a deed to that +property. It is my daughter's present to her 'daddy,' the gentleman +who made her the lady she is and who has just made a new man of Sydney +Force. This--" + +"Gee!" exclaimed Melissa, pop-eyed and trembling with joy. "What next? +Now, I've got to sleep on a house and lot, besides--" She caught +herself up in time. + +"This envelope contains my present to him. It is an appointment as +manager and superintendent of my estates in Westchester County and in +Connecticut--for life, Melissa. You won't fail to give them to him for +breakfast, will you?" + +"God bless my soul!" gasped Melissa, unconsciously falling into a +life-long habit of the man who loved everybody. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +The agents came at eight o'clock, a gloomy man in uniform and two +kind-looking, sweet-faced women in brown. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . + +Mr. Bingle's voice broke occasionally as he read "The Christmas Carol" +to a silent, attentive audience made up of Kathleen and Sydney Force, +Melissa, Diggs and the two Watsons. Fortunately, he knew the story so +well that he was not called upon to perform the impossible. It was +seldom that he could see the print on account of the mist that lay in +his tired, forlorn grey eyes. + +Far below in the street outside, a half-frozen clarinetist was sending +up a mournful carol from the mouth of his reed. Somewhere in the +distance a high-voiced child was singing. And the wind played a dirge +as it marched past the windows of the candle-lighted flat. + +At last he came to the end. He laid the book upon the table, fumbled +for his spectacle case, and contrived to smile as he held out a hand +to Kathleen. + +"You will come every Christmas Eve, won't you, Deary?" he said. + +"Yes, Daddy," murmured Kathleen, between the sobs that Tiny Tim had +drawn from her soft little heart. "Every Christmas Eve, Daddy?" + +"Then it won't be so bad as it seems now," he said gently. Not a word +said he of the nine children who had gone away. + +Mr. Force had glanced surreptitiously at his watch at least a dozen +times during the reading of the story. An anxious frown settled on his +brow and an observer might have remarked the strange, listening +attitude that he affected at times, such as the alert cocking of his +head and an intense squinting of the eyes. + +"Now, if my dear Mary could only pop in on us and--" but Mr. Bingle +choked up suddenly and turned his attention to the stirring of the +coals in the stove. + +The door-bell pealed again, this time with surprising authority and +decision. Mr. Bingle started as if shot. As he faced the little hall, +his eyes were wide with an incredulous stare of wonder. + +"Good God in heaven," he murmured, "can it be possible that--but no! +It cannot be Mary. That would be too wonderful. Watson--Melissa, will +you please see who's--who's there?" + +As rigid as a post he stood over the stove, holding the poker in his +hand, his eyes fastened upon the door as Watson sprang to open it. The +cheerful voice of old Dr. Fiddler--the GREAT Dr. Fiddler--came roaring +into the room ahead of its owner. + +"By the Lord Harry, it's a cold night--Hello! What's this? Liveried +servants again? Well, upon my soul, I--Ah, there you are, Bingle! How +are you, Force?" + +The next instant he was wringing Mr. Bingle's hand and booming +Christmas greetings to every one in hearing--and out of it, for that +matter, such a voice he had! + +"Mary? What--how is she, Doctor?" cried Mr. Bingle, peering beyond the +bulky form of the doctor as if expecting to see his wife in the little +hallway. + +"Fine as a fiddle," said Dr. Fiddler, using a pet and somewhat +personal phrase. + +"No--no bad news?" stammered Mr. Bingle. "You're not trying to break +anything gently to me, are you?" + +"Gently?" roared the doctor. "Does a rhinoceros break things gently?" +He threw off his great ulster and began jerking at his gloves. "Just +thought I'd run down to see you, Bingle. Christmas Eve comes but once +a year. Hope I'm not too late for the Carol. I missed hearing it last +year, and--" + +"If you'll swear to me that Mary is all right, I'll--I'll read it over +again," cried Mr. Bingle. + +"I swear it on my word as a gentleman," said Fiddler, "but for +heaven's sake don't read it over again. I'll take it for granted. +Besides I always cry when we get to the Tiny Tim part, so--I say +Force, don't you cry?" + +"I did to-night," said Sydney Force, his face beaming. + +"And you, Diggs?" + +"Like a blooming baby, sir," said Diggs, and Watson blew his nose +violently. + +"Doctor, I thought for a moment that it was Mary at the door," said +Mr. Bingle slowly. He was still trembling. + +"Oh, she won't be here for a couple of weeks, Bingle--perhaps three. +But she's coming, old man--coming with banners flying and bells on her +toes. 'Gad, you won't know her when you see her to-morrow." He sent a +quick, frowning glance around the room. "They're gone, eh? All of 'em? +Good! I must tell you in advance, Bingle, that Mrs. Bingle will have +to bring a nurse with her--for a while, at least. So, you see, we'll +need all the room--" + +"A nurse? Oh, my Lord!" gasped Mr. Bingle, dropping into a chair as +his knees gave way beneath him. "Is--is it as bad as that?" + +"Cheer up!" cried the doctor, laying a hand upon his shoulder, and +suddenly giving him a violent shake. "Nothing to be alarmed over, I +give you my word. She's as fine as a fiddle, I tell you. And now, give +me a full glass of that amazing egg-nogg you make, Bingle. I'm frozen +to the bone." + +"Egg-nogg?" murmured Mr. Bingle, helplessly. "Why, God bless my soul, +I--I never thought of it. Melissa, have we any whiskey in the house? +No, of course not--and we have no cream, I fear, so--" + +"Beg pardon, sir," interrupted Diggs, "we 'ave all of the +hingredients. Watson 'appened to think of the cold trip 'ome, sir." + +"Sit down, then," cried Mr. Bingle. "I'll mix the grog for you, +Doctor, in two shakes of a lamb's tail." + +He flew into the kitchen. Instantly Mr. Force had Dr. Fiddler by the +arm. The others crowded close about the pair. + +"How is it, Doctor? All right?" + +"Wonderful!" whispered Dr. Fiddler. "She WOULD have her own way about +it, and, by gad, I think she was inspired, now that it's turned out so +beautifully. Half-past six this morning. She's a strong, perfect +woman. I've got my car waiting downstairs and as soon as I've broken +the news to him by degrees--don't want him to knock under completely, +you know--I'm going to take him up to the hospital." + +Melissa leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. + +"Boy or girl, Doctor?" she whispered. + +"A boy, God bless him," said Dr. Fiddler. + +THE END + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MR. 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