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+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
+
+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
+
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