Mr. Bino:le 
 
 George Barr 
 m ?Cutcheon 
 
MR. SINGLE 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 GRAUSTARK 
 
 CASTLE CRANEYCROW 
 
 BREWSTER S MILLIONS 
 
 THE SHERRODS 
 
 THE DAT OF THE DOG 
 
 BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK 
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 NEDRA 
 
 COWARDICE COURT 
 
 JANE CABLE 
 
 THE FLYERS 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF ANDERSON CROW 
 
 THE HUSBANDS OF EDITH 
 
 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY S 
 
 THE ALTERNATIVE 
 
 TRUXTON KING 
 
 THE BUTTERFLY MAN 
 
 THE ROSE IN THE RING 
 
 WHAT s- HIS-NAME 
 
 MARY MIDTHORNE 
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HANDS 
 
 A FOOL AND His MONEY 
 
 BLACK Is WHITE 
 
 THE PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK 
 
 MR. BINGLE 
 
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 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 1915 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER . PAGE 
 
 I THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES . .1 ... 1 
 
 II RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION . . . 21 
 
 III THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE . . 41 
 
 IV FORTY MINUTES LATE . ..... 60 
 
 V THE STORY OP JOSEPH ...... 80 
 
 VI THE HONORABLE THOMAS SINGLETON 
 
 BINGLE 96 
 
 VII SEARCHERS REWARDED ....... 122 
 
 VIII THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK . . 147 
 
 IX THE MAN CALLED HINMAN . . . .164 
 
 X MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING AN 
 
 ANGEL . . . . ., . .186 
 
 XI A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE . : . 205 
 
 XII THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON . ,.. . 224 
 
 XIII TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! . . .251 
 
 XIV THE LAW S LAST WORD ...... 270 
 
 XV DECEMBER ; ..... 294 
 
 XVI ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE ., . , ; . .314 
 XVII THE LAST TO ARRIVE . . . 337 
 
 M22186 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Mr. B ingle . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 The " kiddies " kept their eyes and ears open and 
 sat very still while he read to them of Tiny 
 Tim and his friends 12 
 
 " That s the kind of a doctor to have/ said Uncle 
 
 Joe 52 
 
 Amy Fairweather and Flanders 142 
 
 " Lest they forget/ said Diggs, leaning over to 
 
 speak softly in Mr. Bingle s ear ...... 336 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
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 emphasising 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. 
 
 1 
 
2 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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. Single, 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 un- 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 3 
 
 fortunates who haven t a warm fire to sit beside to 
 night. 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 after 
 noon," 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 sit 
 ting-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 
 
4 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 I 
 
 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 child 
 hood as they are paramount to parenthood. 
 
 Lonely, incomplete lives they led, with no bitter 
 ness 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 Founda 
 tion, so to speak. No Christmas Eve was allowed to 
 go by without the presence of alien offspring about 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 5 
 
 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, wist 
 ful 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 bor 
 row a whole family of children when the mother hap 
 pens 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 chil 
 dren who had an even greater grudge against cir 
 cumstances. They frequently found their guests of 
 
6 MR. BINGLE 
 
 honour in places where dishonour had left them, anc 
 they gave them a merry Christmas with no questions 
 asked. 
 
 The past two Christmas Eves had found their 
 rather providentially supplied with children aboul 
 whom no questions had ever been asked : the progem 
 of a Mr. and Mrs. Sykes. Mr. Sykes being dead 
 the care and support of five lusty youngsters fel 
 upon the devoted but far from rugged shoulders of 
 mother who worked as a sahr Troman in one of the bi 
 Sixth Avenue shops, and who toiled far into the nighl 
 before Christmas in order that forgetful people mighl 
 be able to remember without fail on the morning 
 thereafter. She was only too glad to lend her famil} 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. More than that, she was 
 ineffably glad, on her own account, that it was Christ 
 mas Eve; it signified the close of a diabolical seasor 
 of torture at the hands of a public that believes 
 firmly in " peace on earth " but hasn t the faintesl 
 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. II 
 was she who suggested the Sykes family as a happj 
 solution to the annual problem, and Mr. Bingle al 
 most hugged her for being so thoroughly competenl 
 and considerate? 
 
 It isn t every servant, said he, who thinks of the 
 comfort of her employers. Most of em, said he, in- 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 7 
 
 sist 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 com 
 plained not ! And what made it all the more incom 
 prehensible 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 com 
 plete 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, en 
 tirely 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 prac 
 tically 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 
 
8 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 sa t in the kitchen, but to offset this distinc 
 tion, Melissa could sing over her pans and dishes. 
 
 Mr. Bingle, good soul, insisted on keeping a serv 
 ant, 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 Wash 
 ington 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 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 9 
 
 a stop at the seventh floor, and gave greeting to the 
 five Sykeses on the dark, narrow landing. He men 
 tioned 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 al 
 ways said, " Yes, thank you," following out instruc 
 tions 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 
 
10 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 tip 
 pet, 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, clear- 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 11 
 
 ing 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 Scrip 
 ture 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 rela- 
 tiveness of " The Christmas Carol " to the greatest 
 Book in all the world. 
 
 For twenty years or more, he had not once failed 
 
12 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 acquaint 
 ance went into business and became rich and arro 
 gant? Of course, it is necessary to look at the ques 
 tion from both directions, and for that reason I men 
 tion 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 be 
 came 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. 
 
 Of late he had been reading the story first and dis 
 tributing 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. Single himself grinned shamefacedly 
 
The "kiddies" kept their eyes and ears open and sat 
 very still while he read to them of Tiny Tim and his 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 13 
 
 through his tears and choked up so that the words 
 would not come without being resolutely forced 
 through a tightened throat, the sympathetic audi 
 ence, 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 attend 
 ing. 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 irreso 
 lute. His gaze lingered for a moment on the white 
 
14 MR. SINGLE 
 
 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 per 
 suaded to come in and listen to the reading," he ven 
 tured, a wistful gleam in his eyes. " He s been feel 
 ing 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, lower 
 ing his voice ; " and he hasn t known very much hap 
 piness 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 em 
 barrassment. 
 
 " 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. 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 15 
 
 " 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 re 
 gard for effect save at the end of sentences, the ulti 
 mate 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 inflec 
 tions at the end of sentences ; the revived crackle of 
 coals lent spirit to an otherwise dreary solo, and al 
 ways 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 young 
 sters 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 
 
16 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 hear 
 ers, who became all attention and blissfully lachry 
 mose. Mrs. Bingle sobbed, Melissa rubbed her eyes 
 violently, Mr. Bingle choked up and could scarcely 
 read for the tightening in his throat, and the chil 
 dren 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 gentle 
 men? " 
 
 " 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, 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES IT 
 
 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 declara 
 tion. 
 
 " 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 
 
18 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 j ourney and no one would have sus 
 pected 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 fes 
 tivity ; 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 up 
 right chairs should do and the hearth was strewn 
 with coals from an overturned scuttle. Candle 
 grease solidified on the mantelpiece and dripped un 
 seen 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 
 
THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES 19 
 
 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 eye 
 brows 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, dis 
 gustedly 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. 
 
20 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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. 
 B ingle. 
 
 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 
 
 EELATING 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 chil 
 dren, 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 chil 
 dren 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 21st 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 delib 
 erately turned their backs upon the miserable de 
 fendant 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 
 
 21 
 
22 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 stay 
 ing 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 disclo 
 sures 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, 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 23 
 
 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 pro 
 foundly 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 scape 
 grace 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, be 
 fore 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 
 
24 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 far 
 ther 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 honour 
 able, faithful spouse to her, and an abstainer as 
 such things go. He would have shared with her the 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 25 
 
 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 sup 
 port and maintenance of two of his children until 
 they reached their majority. He took a savage de 
 light in contemplating the rage of his late wife when 
 she realised that the children would have to be pro 
 vided 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 be 
 cause 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 de- 
 
26 MR. BINGLE 
 
 generation 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 atti 
 tude 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 enem}^ 
 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 de 
 linquent 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 fastid 
 ious 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 be 
 ing, the Bingle burden, and he was not by any means 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 27 
 
 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 suc 
 ceeded 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 re 
 alised what an overbearing, disagreeable visitor he had 
 been and departed, but without the slightest ill-feel 
 ing toward his benefactors. Indeed, he was deeply 
 repentant, deeply apologetic. He ruefully an 
 nounced 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 pro 
 verbial 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 de 
 stroyed 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 
 
28 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 hun 
 dred 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 pro 
 vided 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 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 29 
 
 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 de 
 clined 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-noth 
 ings," he added, with absolutely no dignity. 
 
30 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 gen 
 tleman s nose than he intended, no doubt, and with 
 a perfectly astonishing result. The legal representa 
 tive s hat fell off backwards and he actually trod upon 
 it in his haste to give way before the irate little book 
 keeper. 
 
 " 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 tlie 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." 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 31 
 
 "Bad news?" cried Mr. Bingle. "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, scowl 
 ing at the centre-piece. " Angela married that Mor 
 timer fellow in Sixty-first Street, you know Clar 
 ence 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 
 
32 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 down 
 stairs. 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 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 38 
 
 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 ex 
 cursion 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 " 
 
34 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 hang 
 ing 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 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 35 
 
 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 bury 
 ing 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 Un 
 cle 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 se 
 crecy." 
 
 "Cheerfully?" gasped the Singles. 
 
 " 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 
 
36 MR. BINGLE 
 
 have some little feeling for me, and " He did not 
 finish the sentence, and as the Bingles took that in 
 stant 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 re 
 fusing 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, how 
 ever. 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 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 37 
 
 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 daugh 
 ters 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 suc 
 cessive 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- 
 
38 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 cheer 
 ful 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 compensa 
 tion 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 grace- 
 lessly 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 
 
RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION 39 
 
 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 fes 
 tivities in honour of the five little Sykeses. They 
 spent but a third of the customary amount in pro 
 viding 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 Christ 
 mas 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 de 
 parture of the Sykeses, breaking in upon the tender 
 reflections of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle, 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 wea 
 ther-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 with- 
 
40 MR. BINGLE 
 
 out 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 saymg such a thing 1 " 
 
 And old Joseph suddenly laid his arm on the man 
 telpiece 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 Geof 
 frey in turn asked " who wrote the words for it," al 
 though 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 per- 
 
 41 
 
42 MR. BINGLE 
 
 formed. Mr. Bingle never forgave Geoffrey for call 
 ing " The Christmas Carol " trash. In the light of 
 what took place afterwards, he felt that he was com 
 pletely 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 strik 
 ing 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 luxurjr. 
 
 " 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 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 43 
 
 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 any 
 thing," 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. Bingle was enjoying the paroxysm of a lux 
 urious, 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. 
 
44 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 chat 
 tered. " 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 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 45 
 
 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. Bin 
 gle, " 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 aston 
 ishing 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 morn- 
 
46 MR. BINGLE 
 
 ing, and for once the gentle bookkeeper lost faith in 
 his fellow-man. In all probability he would have ex 
 cused 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 break 
 fast 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 de 
 parted 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 in- 
 grate could get to a pawn-shop, notwithstanding the 
 family shame that would attend an actual arrest. 
 
 66 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." 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 47 
 
 " 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 lias 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, uncomfort 
 ably. 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 Christ 
 mas Day ! " she wailed. " No wonder his children de 
 spise 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 de 
 fiantly. " I don t believe in condemning a man un 
 heard. 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 ? 
 
48 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 with 
 out" 
 
 " 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 admis 
 sion. 
 
 " 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 realises 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, un- 
 spellable ejaculation. 
 
 Mr. Hooper did return, but not until the Saturday 
 following Christmas Day. He justified Mr. Bingle s 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 49 
 
 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 ac 
 count for his own scanty belongings which he had 
 taken away from the flat wrapped up in the news 
 paper. 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 nerv 
 ously. 
 
 " I want Dr. Fiddler," growled the old man. " I 
 won t have anybody else, Mary. He s the only doc 
 tor 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 " 
 
50 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " He ll come the minute you send for him," ar 
 gued 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 do 
 cility convinced him beyond all doubt that he was a 
 very sick man. 
 
 66 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 holi 
 day 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 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 51 
 
 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, ap 
 pearing 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 
 
m MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 Un 
 cle Joe. " I only want a fighting chance, that s all. 
 I" 
 
 " Nobody s fighting you, is they? " demanded Me 
 lissa, 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 j ewel, my girl. I I shall never 
 forget you." 
 
 " I m a soft-hearted fool or I d ha " began Me 
 lissa, 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. 
 
 " He has another coat," said Mrs. Bingle, eva- 
 
That s the kind of a doctor to have," said Uncle Joe 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 53 
 
 sively. " 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 meet 
 ing 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 
 
54 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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, 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 55 
 
 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 w r ait. They were working for a liv 
 ing. 
 
 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 con 
 sideration. 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 
 
56 MR. BINGLE 
 
 to see you back, Uncle Joe. Comfortable? Well 5 
 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, doc 
 tor? 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. Fid 
 dler 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 trouble 
 some 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 sim 
 ple funeral, my boy. No fuss, no flowers, no sing 
 ing. 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 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 57 
 
 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 go 
 ing 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 apart 
 ment 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 inconven 
 ience in connection with the late Joseph Hooper, 
 and that they, as a family, would be pleased to as- 
 
58 MR. BINGLE 
 
 sume the cost of his funeral, provided Tom would 
 present an itemised 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, in 
 formed 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 tele 
 phone receiver. 
 
 Greatly to the amazement and relief of the Bin- 
 gles, Dr. Fiddler insisted on paying all of the fun 
 eral 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. 
 
THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE 59 
 
 "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 
 
 ME,. 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 be 
 long 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 get- 
 
 60 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 61 
 
 ting 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 punc 
 tuality 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 tre 
 mendous shortcoming, and that they were even now 
 whispering among themselves that he ought to be dis 
 charged 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 bor 
 ing holes through the partitions to fix their accusing 
 gaze upon him as he bent nervously over the huge 
 
62 MR. BINGLE 
 
 ledger and tried to shrink into invisibility. He had 
 committed a heinous, inexcusable, unpardonable of 
 fence. 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 hang 
 ing 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 jeop 
 ardy just because Mrs. Bingle happened to be criti 
 cally 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 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 63 
 
 pleasantly and had said something that sounded like 
 " good morning, Mr. Bingle," although it certainly 
 couldn t have been that. It was regarded as espe 
 cially ominous when an official of the bank said good- 
 morning to a clerk or a bookkeeper. It meant, ac 
 cording 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 " of 
 fice." 
 
 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, notwith 
 standing 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 mid 
 dle 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 
 
64 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 apart 
 ment, 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 al 
 ways 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 re 
 motest idea that the weather could be so cold any 
 where 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 com 
 pared with that awful day on the outskirts of 
 Syracuse that bleak, blighting day in the wind- 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 65 
 
 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 under 
 taker 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?" 
 
 66 Why, he was dead," said Mr. Bingle, vaguely sur 
 prised 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. 
 
66 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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. Bingle 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- 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 67 
 
 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 extraor 
 dinary 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. B ingle 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 
 
68 MR. BINGLE 
 
 ain t as bad as we think. Maybe oh, I say, it s 
 your ears! That s what it is. Mr. Force was show 
 ing 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 pos 
 sible? 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-presi 
 dent 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 van 
 tage, 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 un 
 noticed 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 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 69 
 
 eyes, placed his blotters neatly in the rack, and turn 
 ing 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 Jen 
 kins. 
 
 " There s no use putting it off. I " 
 
 A dapper little page appeared at Mr. Bingle s el 
 bow, 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, pain 
 fully. 
 
 "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 
 
70 MR. BINGLE 
 
 offices, Mr. Bingle stopped to wipe his brow and 
 pull himself together for the coming ordeal. A hig 
 and-mighty young man who had been elevated fro 
 a clerkship to the post of third assistant forei^ 
 teller, and who no longer deemed it proper to ass 
 ciate with his erstwhile companions in the " galleys 
 emerged from his cage and, coming abruptly upon tl 
 shivering bookkeeper, blinked uncertainly for a m 
 ment and then said in what was unmistakably a poli 
 and even respectful tone: 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Pleasant day, si 
 isn t it?" 
 
 If Mr. Bingle had been in a condition to notl 
 such things as miracles, he might have been struck I 
 this one, but he merely said it was a pleasant da 
 and resumed his way, utterly oblivious to the fai 
 that a human being had been completely transforrm 
 before his very eyes. A few steps farther on he ei 
 countered an even mightier force than the third a 
 sistant foreign teller: the bank detective. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Bingle. Nice day, sir," sa 
 the bank detective, somewhat eagerly, and stood asi< 
 to let the lowly bookkeeper pass without being jostle 
 as was the custom. 
 
 " Morning," said Mr. Bingle, still unimpresse 
 It seemed to him that every one was evincing a sii 
 gular interest in the fact that he was about to 1 
 discharged on a pleasant day. 
 
 Mr. Force was seated at his desk when Bingle ei 
 tered the room and found himself in the presence ( 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 71 
 
 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 likeli 
 hood that he would have the sense of decency to re 
 sign, 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 aban 
 doned 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 everlast 
 ing 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 
 
72 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 him 
 self would have been in jeopardy but for the fact that 
 he was the father of Mrs. Force and therefore ex 
 empt. In order to clarify the situation, it is neces 
 sary 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 prede 
 cessor, 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 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 73 
 
 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 sur 
 prised 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 stam 
 mered. " 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 dis 
 cover Mr. Sigsbee, who came hastily out of the whirl 
 ing 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 con- 
 
74 MR. BINGLE 
 
 nection with people who were wanted for crime. The 
 man was a detective ! 
 
 " Sit down, Mr. Bingle," said Force, with shock 
 ing 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 re 
 vealed. At his back was the chairman of the board 
 and also the cashier, while somewhat indistinctly as 
 sociated with the sombre elegance of the room be 
 yond 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 ac 
 cused of doing? " blurted out Mr. Bingle abjectly. 
 " This is some awful mistake. I " 
 
 " Accused of doing? " exclaimed Mr. Force, frown 
 ing perplexedly. 
 
 " What say, Bingle ? " inquired the president, who 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 75 
 
 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, glar 
 ing 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 atti 
 tude. 
 
 "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 unintelli 
 gible 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 
 
76 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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. B ingle 
 to grasp his hand, and the chairman of the board 
 began pounding the helpless bookkeeper on the shoul 
 der 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. 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 77 
 
 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 compas 
 sion in his eyes. " Stay right where you are, Sigs- 
 bee. 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 impress- 
 iveness, " your late and lamented uncle, Joseph 
 Hooper, in his will, devises that you are his prin 
 cipal 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? " 
 
78 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 re 
 ceive 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 of 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, sir, were we required to 
 keep you in the dark as to the real " 
 
 " Just a moment, sir," interrupted Mr. Bingle, sit 
 ting up very straight, and staring. " May I ask 
 one question? 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 " 
 
FORTY MINUTES LATE 79 
 
 " 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. Grim- 
 well? " 
 
 " 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. " Tnat is the 
 best part of the story, sir." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE STOEY 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 unlarnented wife. 
 
 In looking about for the second witness, he ob 
 served 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, 
 
 80 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 81 
 
 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 Octo 
 ber, 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 de 
 mise, 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 
 
82 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 in 
 structed 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 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 83 
 
 he suddenly remembered Tom B ingle : 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 some 
 thing 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 shock 
 ing lack of pride led him inevitably into the far 
 Northwest. Men were doing things up there. The 
 
84 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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, wel 
 coming 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 to 
 ward 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 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 85 
 
 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 opportu 
 nities 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 west 
 erners, he began to promote things 1 
 
 The field was fresh and fertile. Inside of two 
 years he reaped a half-dozen harvests and re 
 planted 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, possess 
 ing 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 hardi 
 ness 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 
 
86 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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. Mocka 
 wock 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 enter 
 prises 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. 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 87 
 
 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 in 
 creased 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 1 
 
 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 manipu 
 lated 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 
 
88 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 over 
 looked 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 remem 
 bered 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 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 89 
 
 to whom he could leave this vast accumulation unless 
 he made peace with his past. 
 
 He sold out all of his holdings, reducing every 
 thing 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 law 
 yer 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 pos 
 sible 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 be 
 sides ! 
 
 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 unneces 
 sary 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 
 
90 MR. SINGLE 
 
 postpone the whole matter for a week or two, assur 
 ing 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 mis 
 take 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 even 
 ing 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." 
 
 66 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." 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 91 
 
 "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 counter 
 pane. " 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, occa 
 sionally 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 
 
92 MR. BINGLE 
 
 well known to the three children of Joseph Hooper, 
 hours before they were read to them. They knew 
 that their detestable father had practically disin 
 herited them, but they were not prepared for the 
 staggering baseness employed by the old man in giv 
 ing his reasons for cutting them off. To their 
 chagrin, mortification, even shame, they were com 
 pelled 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 incor 
 porated in the body of the will itself. 
 
 Old Joseph had preserved the letters of his chil 
 dren. They were emphatic evidences of their atti 
 tude toward him from first to last. There was no 
 such thing as going behind them. It might be pos 
 sible 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 rebuk- 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 93 
 
 ings, 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 man 
 aged to give utterance to this violent opinion before 
 his attorney could check his unnecessary eloquence. 
 After that, Geoffrey, subdued and desolate, kept ex 
 tremely 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 B ingle 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 hi- 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. Sigs- 
 
94 MR. BINGLE 
 
 bee hastened to remind him that he hadn t anything 
 to say about it. He didn t have a voice in the mat 
 ter. And then Angela and Elizabeth scornfully ob 
 served 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, trans 
 fixing Mr. Bingle with glittering eyes. 
 
 " Very well," said Mr. Bingle, arising hastily. 
 66 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 
 
THE STORY OF JOSEPH 95 
 
 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 remark 
 ing 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 nar 
 rative. The Honourable Thomas Singleton Bingle 
 is preparing for his annual reading of " The Christ 
 mas 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 his 
 toric 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 per 
 formed 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 superin 
 tending the hanging of a row of stockings along the 
 
 96 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 97 
 
 mantel-ledge, stockings of variegated hues and dis 
 tinguishing 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 fam 
 ily 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 es 
 tates. 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 
 
98 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 Singles 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. Mor 
 timer," 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 serv 
 ant to tell him where to find it. He was so stupen 
 dously rich and so completely awed by the importance 
 of being acquainted with Mrs. Force that he became 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 99 
 
 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 precari 
 ous. He was at the top of a step-ladder, struggling 
 to reach the lowest crystal pendant on the enormous 
 chandelier, and the ladder was wabbling. 
 
 " 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 ob 
 jection 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. 
 
100 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 101 
 
 Melissa. "I told era about robbers &ntl kidnap 
 pers." 
 
 " 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. " Re 
 member 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 card 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." 
 
102 MR. BINGLE 
 
 fc Well, I d ha?e 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. B ingle 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 per 
 plexed 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 appreci 
 ated more than Diggs, who boasted of his ability to 
 know a lady when he heard one. 
 
 " A newspaper chap, Miss Fairweather. To inter- 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 108 
 
 view 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 inter 
 vened. 
 
 " What what name did he give ? " 
 
 " I can t say, Miss. I didn t quite catch it my 
 self." 
 
 " But you must have announced him. He gave 
 you his card or something, didn t he?" 
 
 " No, Miss. He announced imself over the tele 
 phone this afternoon. It sounded like Blinkers, or, 
 even more nearly, on his repeating it, like Rasmus- 
 sen. 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? " 
 
104 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " No. I always cry when I hear about Tiny 
 Tim." 
 
 " Beg pardon, Miss, but as this is your first Christ 
 mas 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. Single." 
 
 " Very good, Miss. 5 
 
 " 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 mate 
 rially 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 dis 
 turb 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. 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 105 
 
 " 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 man 
 ager. 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 op 
 portunity that has become historic. Then he passed 
 swiftly out of the room, followed by Melissa s aston 
 ished : " 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, 
 66 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 per- 
 
106 MR. BINGLE 
 
 suasively. " 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 fash 
 ion," 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 noth 
 ing 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 I " 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, af 
 fecting a vast geniality. " What s a mistletoe for 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 107 
 
 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 signifi 
 cance 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 neces 
 sary 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." 
 
108 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 ar 
 rived, 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 read 
 ing. 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 de 
 cided 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." 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 109 
 
 They seated themselves on the broad, luxurious 
 couch that marked the precise centre of the semi-cir 
 cle 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 tor 
 toise-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 listen 
 ing 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 counten 
 ance, 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 run 
 ning 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 gar 
 ments ; his patent leather pumps were the handiwork 
 of the most fashionable of bootmakers, and quite un- 
 
110 MR. BINGLE 
 
 comfortable; 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 neces 
 sity, 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 sin 
 gle servant in his establishment, something told him 
 more plainly than words that it would not be tol 
 erated 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 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 111 
 
 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 begin 
 ning. All about the Hooper millions and the chil 
 dren 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 refer 
 ence 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 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 rea 
 son 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 ac 
 knowledging 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 eve^r 
 court and in three separate hearings, and my lawyers 
 are confident the Supreme Court will sustain the find 
 ings of the lower courts. I am a tender-hearted luna 
 tic, 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 es 
 tate, just as soon as I know definitely that I have 
 beaten them in the court of last resort. I guess that 
 will surprise 5 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 sensa 
 tion, sir." 
 
 Mr. Bingle sighed. " I am sure you will not take 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 113 
 
 advantage of me, Mr. Flanders. I have made a simi 
 lar statement to every newspaper man who has in 
 terviewed 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 ex 
 ceedingly important man reposed in his fellow-man. 
 He appeared to take it for granted that this star 
 tling piece of confidence would not be betrayed, no 
 matter to whom it was extended. There was some 
 thing 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. O.f course, 
 he was no less honourable than the rest of the boys ! 
 
 " You would be more generous toward your cou 
 sins, 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 poor- 
 house," assented Mr. Bingle composedly. " I am not 
 deceiving myself in regard to Geoffrey and Angela 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 grow 
 ing 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 de- 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 115 
 
 crepit 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 es 
 pecial benefit, and by working backwards in your fig 
 uring 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 pos 
 sibility that they may remain with us to the end, en 
 joying single-blessedness. The boys, of course, will 
 marry." 
 
 " It is splendid, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders enthu 
 siastically. " 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 teeth 
 ing 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. Bin- 
 
116 MR. BINGLE 
 
 gle," 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 1 Most annoying, I m 
 told. The nurses seem to know. We began adopt 
 ing 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 under 
 stand 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 under 
 stand 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 Chi 
 cago, 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 along 
 side of me, chap named Jenkins- died very sud- 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON SINGLE 117 
 
 denly, 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 Septem 
 ber. 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 j oy 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 equalise as much as pos 
 sible. I am or was a blonde, Mr. Flanders 
 quite a decided blonde. Mrs. Bingle is still a bru 
 nette." 
 
 " 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 peo- 
 
118 MR. SINGLE 
 
 pie 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 win 
 dows 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 He 
 brew. 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 ? " 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 119 
 
 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 ap 
 peared 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 door 
 way and the instantaneous suppression of bedlam. 
 
 " Quite so, quite so," exclaimed Mr. Bingle, spring 
 ing to his feet. " Dear me, it is past the hour. For 
 give me, Mr. Flanders, but but I really can t de 
 lay 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 " 
 
 46 What was the name?" demanded the reporter, 
 pricking up his ears. He leaned forward with a new 
 
120 MR. BINGLE 
 
 interest in his lively grey eyes. But Mr. B ingle 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 Flan 
 ders. Then he proceeded to behave in the most as 
 tonishing 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 
 
THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE 
 
 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. Hin- 
 fants 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 col 
 lided 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. Cir 
 cumstances 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 commend 
 able manner. A keener observer than Diggs, how 
 ever, 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. Flan 
 ders, 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 oc- 
 
 122 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 
 
 cupation 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 proceed 
 ings. 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 impercep 
 tible 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 re 
 minded 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. 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 " 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 125 
 
 " Tush, tush ! Now come along. I want to in 
 troduce 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 Fair- 
 weather, 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 at 
 tention, 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. An 
 swer to your names and bow to Mr. Flanders, 
 while you re about it." 
 
 Planting himself in front of the row of eager chil 
 dren, 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, Guine 
 vere, Harold, Rosemary, Rutherford, and last of all 
 Imogene, who whimpered. 
 
 " There ! " said Mr. Single proudly. " They did 
 
126 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 under 
 stand " 
 
 " 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. 
 Force. 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 an 
 nounced by the butler, and each one flushing pain 
 fully 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 scul 
 lery-maid; Edgecomb, the gardener, and his four 
 helpers ; Beulah and Emma, the upstairs-maids ; Bliss, 
 the lodge-keeper, and Jane, his daughter; Frank, the 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 127 
 
 pony-cart driver, and Joe, the coachman; Matson, 
 the stable-boy ; Fannie, the seamstress ; Rudolph, the 
 carpenter ; Miss McLeish, the stenographer and tele 
 phone operator; Throckmorton, the dairy-man; 
 Scott, the stockman; John Butts, the handy-man; 
 Melissa, Watson and Hughes. The four nurses es 
 caped official announcement because they had been 
 clever enough to anticipate the formality. 
 
 Awkward, ill-at-ease in Sunday garments, and al 
 most sullen in their efforts to appear impressed, they 
 formed an amazing group as they clumsily ranged 
 themselves in a compact fringe outside the more fa 
 voured guests of the evening, who occupied what may 
 be described as the " orchestra." They remained 
 standing. 
 
 " Ever see the play called The Admirable Crich- 
 ton ?" 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 
 
128 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 whee 
 dling. 
 
 " Come here, Kathleen. Sit on my knee. I ve 
 I ve got something pretty for you." 
 
 Kathleen instantly lost her joyous, happy expres 
 sion. Her eyes fell and her manner betrayed unmis 
 takable aversion to the august petitioner. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Force," she muttered, and was 
 guiltily conscious of impoliteness. Frederick snick 
 ered. "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 greedi 
 ness 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 col 
 lided with Bingle. 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 129 
 
 " What s the matter with these kids of yours, Bin 
 gle?" 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 has 
 tily. " 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 in- 
 grates 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. 
 
 " W T hat 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. Bin 
 gle 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, 
 
130 MR. BINGLE 
 
 Single? 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, grasp 
 ing 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? " 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 131 
 
 " 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 plain 
 tively. 
 
 "Do you like Santa Glaus, Reginald?" inter 
 rupted Flanders. 
 
 " I like him better n I do Dickens," confessed Reg 
 inald 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. Flin 
 ders, 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 mar 
 ried to Mr. Force for twelve long years. Looking 
 down on him had become such a habit that it was quite 
 
MR. SINGLE 
 
 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 cogita 
 tion. 
 
 Three words describe Mrs. Force. She detested 
 children. 
 
 Joe, the coachman, and Watson were waiting for 
 an opportunity to speak to Mr. Bingle. They ap 
 peared 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 rap 
 idly. " Wasn t your grandmother dying last Christ 
 mas Eve, Watson?" 
 
 " No, sir. It was Hughes s grandmother." 
 
 "Did she die?" 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 133 
 
 " 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, with 
 out 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 whis 
 pered 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 com 
 mand, he sheepishly removed two large wads of cot 
 ton from his ears. 
 
 " Don t you want to hear about Old Scrooge and 
 Tiny Tim? " she whispered. 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 1 " commanded Mr. Bingle, taking 
 his place at the reading-table. " Please be seated, 
 Mr. Force. Hi! Look out! Not on top of Rose 
 mary." 
 
 " 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 be 
 tween master and man, no What is it, Delia ? " 
 
 The cook had stepped forward. " Excuse me for 
 interrupting 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 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 135 
 
 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 de 
 lay 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 Kath 
 leen. 
 
 Mr. Bingle rubbed his spectacles, while Mr. Flan 
 ders confined his attention solely to the slim, graceful 
 head and neck of the new governess. He wore the 
 
136 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 in 
 creased colour in the young lady s cheek. 
 
 " I cry my eyes out over Tiny Tim," Miss Quin- 
 lan was saying to Miss Stokes, and at the same in 
 stant 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, ad 
 dressing 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 serv 
 ants were seated and Diggs had turned out the ceil 
 ing and wall lights from the switch, leaving the big 
 room in semi-darkness. The blazing logs sent a 
 bright, flickering glow into the faces of Mr. Bingle s 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 137 
 
 auditors. He bowed gravely and took up the cher 
 ished 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 anniver 
 sary we celebrate. We gather here about a warm 
 fireside, with the historic yule log blazing er 
 figuratively speaking, of course. These logs, natur 
 ally, 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. Sin 
 gle 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? 
 
138 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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, chil 
 dren, 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 door 
 way. 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." 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 139 
 
 " 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 serv 
 ants. 
 
 "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 fel 
 lows. 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 
 
140 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 whis 
 kers ? Please, daddy " 
 
 " Maybe it s old Santy," cried Wilberforce in a 
 voice that thrilled. 
 
 Mr. Bingle left a pleasant atmosphere of excite 
 ment 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 el 
 bow. 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. 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 141 
 
 "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, dear 
 est. 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 inter 
 ested 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. For 
 get 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 re 
 turned to the room. His face was noticeably grey 
 
il42 MR. BINGLE 
 
 and pinched, and all of the ebullience of spirit had dis 
 appeared. His wife eyed him anxiously, apprehen 
 sively. Slowly, almost with an effort, he made his 
 way to the reading-table, purposely avoiding the gaze 
 of the inquiring assemblage. His hand shook per 
 ceptibly 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, re 
 garding 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, up 
 lifted 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 in- 
 audibly. There was a queer huskiness in his voice 
 that made it necessary for him to clear his throat fre 
 quently. 
 
 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, 
 
Amy Fail-weather and Flanders 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 
 
 and whispered softly to each other, utterly oblivious 
 to the monotonous drone of the reader, quite in a lit 
 tle 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 m 
 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 com 
 pletely, in a most uncalled-for manner and at sin 
 gularly 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. 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 scam 
 pering off to bed, thrilled by promises of the morrow, 
 Mr. Bingle 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 disap 
 peared. 
 
 " That man was a detective," said he, without pre 
 amble. " 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 off 
 spring. After all these months, this detective has lo 
 cated 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 un 
 usual type of newspaper reporter. Here was some- 
 
SEARCHERS REWARDED 145 
 
 thing that would make a splendid " story," and yet 
 he was fine enough to turn his back upon the oppor 
 tunity 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 remem 
 ber 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 circum 
 stances. 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 look 
 ing 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 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 there isn t any chance for a mistake. She is the 
 one. Our eldest, our loveliest Oh, Mary 1 " 
 
 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 unnat 
 ural that his wife glanced at him sharply. 
 
 66 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 Flan 
 ders 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 j oint 
 history deserves the undivided attention of the on 
 looker, 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, mat 
 ter-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 feel- 
 
 147 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 ings " causing her to abandon her own name during 
 the neophytic period of her career. This was a tem 
 porary 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 unpub 
 lished. 
 
 At the outset, his play was intended for Miss Bar- 
 rymore, but after the second week of his acquaint 
 ance with the attractive Miss Colgate his ambitions 
 proved fickle : he discarded Miss Barryrnore and sub 
 stituted 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, un 
 skilled 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 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 149 
 
 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 com 
 pleting 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 her 
 self 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 
 
150 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 bot 
 tom 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 scorn 
 ful 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 engage 
 ment 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 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 151 
 
 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, disil 
 lusioned, 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 in 
 compatible 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 sur 
 render by running away from danger. 
 
 She had heard of the Bingles through a woman 
 playwright who wanted to dramatise the Bingle en 
 terprise. 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 inade 
 quate. A grinning park policeman enlightened her 
 as to the identity of the bewildered little man. A sin- 
 
152 MR. BINGLE 
 
 gle 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 be 
 ginning to look worried. Time and again he tried to 
 herd them into the big station bus in which he had 
 brought them over from Seawood (the Bingle estate), 
 and always with so little success that he was getting 
 hot and tired and farther away from the convey 
 ance 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 in 
 surgents would tumble into the lake and well, she 
 couldn t imagine anything more droll than Mr. Bin 
 gle 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 in 
 quired. 
 
 Now, Mr. Bingle was not accustomed to seeing 
 girls as pretty as the one who accosted him so ami- 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 153 
 
 ably. At first, he said no, he was very much ob 
 liged, 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 im 
 pressed 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 im 
 modest. 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 
 
154 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 Hen 
 rietta 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 has 
 tily 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 young 
 sters. Almost before he knew what had happened, 
 she was approaching him with the flushed, mischie 
 vous " kiddies " in tow. They were staring at the 
 strange, beautiful young lady with wide-open, fas 
 cinated eyes. They were abashed, puzzled; meek 
 with wonder. When she extended her hands to Kath 
 leen 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 mil 
 lionaire. 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 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 155 
 
 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. 
 
156 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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, discour 
 aged, and a failure at the work she had tried so 
 hard to perform. 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 157 
 
 "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 posi 
 tion 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. Up to this in 
 stant, 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 chil 
 dren nothing was farther from my mind than the 
 thought that has just come into it. I do love chil 
 dren. I want work, Mr. Bingle. I am self-sup 
 porting. No matter what may have been my ambi- 
 
158 MR. BINGLE 
 
 tion 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 gov 
 erness, 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 Fair- 
 weather and she had quarrelled with him. She 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 159 
 
 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 near 
 est telephone. No! Not that saloon over there. 
 Tackle an apartment house. Well, well, Miss Fair- 
 weather, 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 gov 
 erness 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 distress 
 ing fear that he might have ceasecj. 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, 
 
160 MR. SINGLE 
 
 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 real 
 ised 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 
 B ingles 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 ex 
 perience as a teacher of young children. She con 
 fessed that the work was new to her, but she con 
 fessed 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 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 161 
 
 in the throes of adopting Imogene, agreed to every 
 thing that Imogene s prospective father had to 
 say. 
 
 In the meantime, Mr. Flanders had remained dog 
 gedly 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 un 
 finished 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 
 
162 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 mer 
 riest 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 
 
THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK 163 
 
 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 mar 
 ried again. It " 
 
 "Married again? I thought you said you d 
 never " 
 
 " What I mean is this : I was going to be mar 
 ried once and now I m going to be married again. 
 See? Oh, you know what I mean. I m just drivel 
 ing 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 
 
 B EIGHT 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 foot 
 path, 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 pro 
 duce the deadly chill that crept over him when he 
 heard the name of Glenn. How he succeeded in con 
 trolling himself so well that his profound agitation 
 escaped the attention of the others, he could not ex 
 plain. He was amazed to find that he had managed 
 it so well. For, it must be confessed, Mr. Force s 
 
 164 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 165 
 
 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 stupefac 
 tion, 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 scorn 
 ful of social amenities ; but he could hardly wait for 
 the approach of sunrise to be on his way to Seawood 
 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. B ingle 
 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 
 
166 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 unpleas 
 ant 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 pres 
 ence 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 detec 
 tive 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 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 167 
 
 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. 
 
 66 1 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. 
 
168 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 convic 
 tion. " 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 mar 
 ries 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 hap 
 pened to Frederick? A boy of his age talking of 
 suicide is Oh, good morning, Mr. Force. Merry 
 Christmas ! Ton 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. 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 169 
 
 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 chil 
 dren 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, 
 
170 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 count 
 ing 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 impor 
 tance." 
 
 The Bingles stared at him for a moment in speech 
 less 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 sud 
 den irascibility. His nerves were at a high tension, 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 171 
 
 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 pro 
 fane. 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 Sea- 
 wood, 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 real- 
 
172 MR. BINGLE 
 
 ised, 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, brighten 
 ing. 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 per 
 fectly 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 ? " 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 173 
 
 " Almost," said Mr. Bingle promptly. " If any 
 thing 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? " de 
 manded 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 im 
 portant 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?" 
 
174 MR. BINGLE 
 
 v 
 
 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, as 
 suming 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 creep 
 ing into his voice. Mr. Bingle did not think it worth 
 while to tell him that it was the same miserable busi 
 ness 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." 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 175 
 
 " 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. Sim 
 ply 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 abstrac 
 tion. 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 j ou is mine." 
 
176 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 hag 
 gard with despair. 
 
 " Bingle, I I want you to help me. For God s 
 sake, do what you can for me. Put into practice 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 177 
 
 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 every 
 thing 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. 
 
178 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 un 
 derstand 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 wast 
 ing time over nothing. I can t resist saying, how 
 ever, 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 sack 
 cloth and ashes because she died as a lot of people 
 do, every year, you know. Hers was not an uncom 
 mon case. There are thousands just like it happen 
 ing 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 legiti- 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 179 
 
 mate 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. Ton 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 un 
 earth 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 
 
180 MR. BINGLE 
 
 came to her end. She was really a brick. She de 
 served 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 some 
 thing better than being the mother of your child. 
 What happened? Did she leave you of her own ac 
 cord? " 
 
 " 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, Bingle, I hadn t the remotest idea you 
 were so simple. I thought you at least knew some 
 thing about life. You amaze me. You are posi 
 tively 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 unex 
 pected 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 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 181 
 
 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 some 
 thing of the sort money, you know, regular black 
 mail. But she didn t. She got out as quietly as a 
 mouse, left no trace behind, no regrets, no com 
 plaints. Just a note saying she understood and 
 wishing me luck. Rather fine, eh? " 
 
 " And you married right after that ? " 
 
 " Six weeks afterward." 
 
 66 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 caus 
 ing 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, with 
 out " 
 
 " 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, 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 respect 
 able 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 ? " 
 
 66 Don t be hard on me, Bingle. Can t you under 
 stand 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, 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 183 
 
 I swear it. When I got back from California, I 
 tried to find Agnes. I wanted to do the right tiling. 
 I wanted to make the rest of her life easy and com 
 fortable. 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 Kath 
 leen, 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 man 
 ner. 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 
 
184 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 adop 
 tion 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 daugh 
 ter 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. 
 
THE MAN CALLED HINMAN 185 
 
 66 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 com 
 ing 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 pro 
 viding 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 
 
 186 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 187 
 
 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 con 
 cern. 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 re 
 vealed a contrite heart and a disposition to make 
 amends in the proper way. 
 
 " To be gone for three months, I hear," said Flan 
 ders, 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 re 
 joicing had sprung up, occupying all of his atten 
 tion. 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. 
 
188 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 un 
 speakably 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." 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 189 
 
 " Not at all, not at all. I ve always been inter 
 ested 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 in 
 tensified. 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 decep 
 tion. She might just as well have slept comfort 
 ably, 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 diffi 
 cult 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, 
 
190 MR. SINGLE 
 
 his lips pursed in an expression that spoke of calcu 
 lation. 
 
 " 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 Sin 
 gleton B ingle 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 play 
 wright. 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 rela 
 tive drawing powers of Ethel Barrymore or Maude 
 Adams, nor was it anybody s business who Amy Col 
 gate 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. 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 191 
 
 He had been dazed, yet vastly impressed by the un 
 intelligible phraseology of the stage as it ran from 
 the glib lips of the eager young man. He was flat 
 tered by Dick s assumption that he was perfectly 
 familiar with the theatre from box office to " grid 
 iron." 
 
 " 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 
 
192 MR. BINGLE 
 
 that there were two sides to the discussion. Miss 
 Fairweather was a sensible young woman, although 
 amazingly beautiful, and she took a most extraor 
 dinary view of the situation. 
 
 " It isn t right, it isn t fair, it isn t playing the 
 game, Dick," she protested, resolutely releasing her 
 self 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. B ingle 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 mak 
 ing of you? The part is a wonder. You can t help 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 193 
 
 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 Broad 
 way " 
 
 " 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 mana 
 ger 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 realises that there is a chance 
 for failure, but so does every man who puts his money 
 
194 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 ap 
 proves 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 foot 
 lights, 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. 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 195 
 
 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 get 
 ting 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 men 
 tioned 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, blink 
 ing. She had laid down her embroidery. 
 
196 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 sub 
 ject. 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 ex 
 tremely 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 wonder 
 ful knowledge of dramatic composition? " 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 197 
 
 " 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 my 
 self 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 state 
 ment 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 
 
198 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 : 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 199 
 
 " I forgot to tell you that Swanson spoke to me yes 
 terday about his sister s latest. I was awfully sorry 
 for the poor chap, my dear. He seemed most anx 
 ious to see the child comfortably settled. His sis 
 ter is a scrub-woman in the Metropolitan Life Build 
 ing. It appears that she has been supplying fam 
 ilies 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 man 
 aged 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 cer 
 tain that it would never acquire the Swedish dia 
 lect. 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." 
 
200 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " So you have," he said brightly. " I ll not for 
 get 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 B ingle. 
 
 " 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 pres 
 ent 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. 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 201 
 
 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 hap 
 pen 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 es 
 pecially 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." 
 
202 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 Kath 
 leen, 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 sug 
 gestions 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 
 
THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL 203 
 
 advice to me about the raising of your child. 
 You" 
 
 " Sh ! For heaven s sake, Bingle, don t shout 
 like that! Be careful, mant" 
 
 " Well, you leave Kathleen to me, that s all I ve 
 got to say. She shall play with the rest of the chil 
 dren 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 contami 
 nated 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. Under 
 stand 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 
 
204 MR. BINGLE 
 
 say. I can t talk to you over the telephone about it. 
 I ll I ll write you from Paris. I m I m work 
 ing 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, Bin 
 gle, 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 " 
 
 "Goodnight!" 
 
 " 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 ju 
 bilant cablegram to Mr. Bingle drew from its re 
 cipient 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. Re- 
 joice. Wife keen about K. Insists on having her 
 with us over here. Send her over at once with Du- 
 fresne. 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. Bin 
 gle to his wife as they discussed the banker s mes 
 sage. " 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 
 
 205 
 
206 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 be 
 lieve 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 tele 
 graph either." 
 
 " But he is the president of the bank, Thomas," 
 said Mrs. Bingle, as if that were all that was neces 
 sary 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 ; 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 207 
 
 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 in 
 stant 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 with 
 out 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 declara 
 tion, 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 
 
208 MR. BINGLE 
 
 real father, and by the same token Mrs. B ingle be 
 came 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. Bin- 
 gle, 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 j oy 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 de 
 serves, 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 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 209 
 
 Brooklyn. Mr. Bingle was convinced, as time went 
 on, that the tags on certain infants had been acci 
 dentally 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 unmistak 
 ably Irish, although the hospital people declared that 
 he was German to the core when Mr. and Mrs. Bin 
 gle 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 superinten 
 dent in charge of the maternity ward. The superin 
 tendent 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 Ger 
 man fancier desire than a child whose name alone 
 stood for all that one could possibly seek in Teu 
 tonic 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 pro 
 test) was unmistakably Irish, or at least part Irish. 
 It is also worthy of note that Mrs. Bumbleburg ran 
 
210 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 in 
 consolable 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 en 
 thusiasm 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 Wilberf orce 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. 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 
 
 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 nec 
 essary 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, es 
 pecially at night. We shall probably lie awake any 
 how." 
 
 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 dur 
 ing 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 young 
 ster s case, for the simple reason that Frederick s 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 Fred 
 erick 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 imper 
 ishable. 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, hav 
 ing loved and lost, should have appreciated the ten- 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 213 
 
 der 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 sus 
 tained a bloody nose in retaliation and Watson, being 
 a special offender, met with a painful and unac 
 countable 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 investiga 
 tion that it fitted the vacuum perfectly. It was Me 
 lissa 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, 
 
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 dis 
 covery 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 de 
 pended upon for accuracy in the depiction of pas 
 sion. 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 fiction- 
 ists 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 mis 
 tletoe 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 al 
 ways 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 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 215 
 
 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 hap 
 pened 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 count 
 ing. 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 
 
216 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 ? " pro 
 tested 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. B ingle 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 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 
 
 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 mous 
 tache." 
 
 " 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 fre 
 quently 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 noth 
 ing more to do with you not a thing, d you under 
 stand? It s a secret. Your pa and ma are not to 
 
218 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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. Flan 
 ders. 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 imag 
 inary 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 sup 
 pressed a sniffle, and then, after a moment consumed 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 
 
 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 dia 
 mond ring upon the third finger of Miss Fair- 
 weather 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 com 
 mand 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 in 
 stant he appeared on the estate to the moment he left 
 
220 MR. BINGLE 
 
 it in a dash for the train, was known to the small vic 
 tim 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, young 
 ster, 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 swal 
 lowed hard " in the world, and I j ust wanted to tell 
 you that if you don t treat her well I ll I ll - 
 well, you ll see." 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 
 
 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 
 
222 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 confi 
 dence in you. I trust you. If you should ever re 
 quire 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, think 
 ing 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." 
 
A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE 
 
 "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-re 
 peated claim that if Flanders kept Miss Fair weather 
 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 ex 
 cellent manager of the foreign exchange assured the 
 vice-president that he could now guarantee to pro 
 cure the most adorable of French infants at a mo 
 ment 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," de 
 plored Rouquin, who spoke English without a flaw. 
 " Millions of babes have I seen, but not one so won 
 derful 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 par 
 ents " 
 
 " 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 
 
 224 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 
 
 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: 
 6 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 im 
 plore 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 6 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 in 
 sinuate 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." 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 mis 
 interpreted the polite Ah, but, it is of no con 
 sequence. 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 peo 
 ple? " 
 
 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 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 
 
 Madame Bang Bingle honour me with your pres 
 ence at a little tea-room quite an excellent and re 
 fined 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, re 
 spectable 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 fol 
 lowing afternoon. Rouquin had already assured Mr. 
 Bingle that only the direst necessity made it possi 
 ble for the wretched father and mother to even t liirik 
 of giving up their greatest treasure, this marvellous 
 infant. In fact, it was only because they loved the 
 
228 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 ad 
 versity, 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 un 
 speakable. And, said he, they couldn t consider sui 
 cide 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. 
 Single 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 an 
 nounced 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 jani 
 tor 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 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 229 
 
 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 Rous 
 seau, 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 de 
 scendant, 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 descend 
 ant 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 amaz 
 ingly 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 grand 
 father had been beheaded at the time of the revolu 
 tion, which was in itself sufficient proof that he was 
 descended from the aristocracy if not the nobility of 
 France. 
 
230 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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. Bin- 
 gle 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 look 
 ing young people, rather shabbily attired in gar 
 ments which, though clearly the cast-off apparel of 
 more prosperous owners, were still neat and re 
 motely fashionable. Madame Rousseau was quite a 
 pretty woman, with a soft, restrained voice and a 
 tendency to say " Oui, Madame," with great fre 
 quency and politeness. Her husband, poor as he was, 
 sustained the credit of aristocracy by smoking in 
 numerable 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 oc 
 curred to him. He shot a furtive glance at Mr. 
 Bingle as he made the remark. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Rousseau, after an instant s hesi 
 tation. " I beg Madame s pardon. Does the smok 
 ing annoy ? " 
 
 " Not at all," said Mrs. Bingle. " I am used to 
 it. Mr. Bingle smokes a pipe." 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 231 
 
 "Well, where is the baby?" said Mr. Bingle, de 
 clining 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 RaouPs 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 Rous 
 seau 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 ex 
 change 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. Bin 
 gle." 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 " I suppose I m to have two guesses," said Mr. 
 Bingle, with a chuckle. 
 
 " Certainly," said Rouquin. " Provided your first 
 guess is wrong." 
 
 Stealthily the group entered the bedroom of Mon 
 sieur Rouquin. The window shades were down. The 
 room was quite dark. On the bed was a dimly dis 
 tinguishable 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 spec 
 tacles. 
 
 " Where is it ? " he whispered. 
 
 66 Mon dieu ! " gulped the young mother, in con 
 sternation. 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 Rous 
 seau started to laugh but cut it short and sput 
 tered 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 confront 
 ing a motherly looking person in Monsieur Rouquin s 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 233 
 
 bath-room, down the little hall. The motherly look 
 ing 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 hall 7 - c_np tied 
 milk-bottle. 
 
 The conversation was in whispered French, and of 
 exceeding bitterness on one side. It is not neces 
 sary 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 Ma 
 dame Rousseau. From certain disjointed explana 
 tory 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 wis 
 dom 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 sur 
 prised to cry. It maintained an open-mouthed si 
 lence even as its mother whisked out of the bath-room 
 and brought the door to with a bang, leaving grand- 
 mere in the centre of a pool of white, still whispering 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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! 55 shouted the two Frenchmen joyously. 
 
 " That stupid servant ! " squealed Madame Rous 
 seau, hugging the baby to her breast in frantic re 
 lief. "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 an 
 guished. 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 Mon 
 sieur 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 point 
 ing proudly at the baby. 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 235 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " exclaimed Mr. Single. 
 
 " 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 par 
 ent 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 back 
 ground, 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 
 
236 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 any 
 thing 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. Bin 
 gle 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 de- 
 light. 
 
 Madame Rousseau could not get over the despic 
 able behaviour of Rouquin s servant. She kept on be 
 rating 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 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 237 
 
 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 de 
 clared 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 re 
 main in the bath-room, and no further reference was 
 made to her. 
 
 " Well, let s get down to business," said Mr. Bin 
 gle, presenting his forefinger to the babe for inspec 
 tion. Monsieur PEnfant 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 
 
238 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 pa 
 per 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 fre 
 quently slept without covering in their poor, wind 
 swept attic. 
 
 " Splendid ! " said Mr. Bingle, casting an admir 
 ing 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 pa 
 pers, and so forth, before the baby can be legally 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 239 
 
 adopted by Mrs. Bingle and myself. The law pro 
 vides 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 go 
 ing 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 indigna 
 tion. " 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, 
 
240 MR. BINGLE 
 
 of course and that s all there is to it. You must 
 declare that you, as the mother of Napoleon, volun 
 tarily 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, pres 
 ent 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. 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 
 
 "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 Na 
 poleon " 
 
 " 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 per 
 son 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 squall- 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 ing Napoleon from Mrs. Bingle s arms, and an in 
 stant 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, turn 
 ing 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. Rou 
 quin," said Mrs. Bingle, recovered from her sur 
 prise. 
 
 " 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 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 243 
 
 pretty little handkerchief, and then smiled beatif- 
 ically. 
 
 " 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 Rous 
 seau of the 1830 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. 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 smil 
 ing 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, de 
 pendable 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 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 
 
 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 Na 
 poleon 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 4 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 rap 
 ture : " 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 peti 
 tioner in one jolly, epoch-making though abso 
 lutely respectable celebration in honour of our lit 
 tle 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 French 
 man 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 Na- 
 
246 MR. BINGLE 
 
 poleon is a Rousseau and not a Single," 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 Single," 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 ap 
 prehensively. " 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, 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 247 
 
 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 any 
 thing 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 oc 
 casion. I shall insist upon Madame Rousseau leav 
 ing 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 Na 
 poleon ! " 
 
 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 
 
248 MR. BINGLE 
 
 o clock that night and into a very commonplace, hum 
 drum 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 utter 
 most depths of Pierre s cellars. They were pleas 
 antly, agreeably conscious of going home, and they 
 talked a great deal of the vivacious, though heart 
 broken mother of little Napoleon, who, despite her 
 shabby frock, was the life of the party. And Mon 
 sieur Jean he, the great artist and stricken father 
 he too was gay and amusing. He sang a wonder 
 ful little French song that was applauded violently 
 by people at the nearby tables, and he drew wonder 
 ful 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 in 
 tentions. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bingle said good night on the side 
 walk 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 fin- 
 
THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON 249 
 
 gers 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. N&n, nonl 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 com 
 panions paused at the foot of a Sixth Avenue Ele 
 vated 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 
 
250 MR. SINGLE 
 
 down the street, whistling gaily, as one who has com 
 pleted 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 be 
 hind as possible. 
 
 In the first place, Kathleen was permitted to re 
 main with the Singles 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 
 
 251 
 
252 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 253 
 
 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 nurse 
 maid, 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 
 
 Mr. Bingle appeared in the doorway. " Come in, 
 please," he said, covering his bare head with a news 
 paper. " 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 lit 
 tle 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." 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 255 
 
 " That is to say, until she gets well or dies," said 
 Mr. Single, 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 rap 
 idly, 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, 
 w T hen she had completely recovered from a particu 
 larly 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, consid 
 erably 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 
 
256 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 paint 
 ing by the young artist, in which a herd of red cat 
 tle partook placidly of the skyline and a pallid wind 
 mill 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 Rous 
 seau. It was Fauret. Rouquin explained the dis 
 crepancy. 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 aca 
 demic, old-school Barbizon painter. He was above 
 trading on a name that was fast becoming obso 
 lete! 
 
 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 Washing 
 ton, 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. Ex 
 treme 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 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 257 
 
 to return to Seawood, where, after all, he could have 
 all he wanted to eat and at the same time reflect audi 
 bly 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 ad 
 venture, privation and gallantry. He got no farther 
 from home than White Plains, and was back at Sea- 
 wood before nine o clock at night on the day of his 
 flight, yet he had enjoyed so many hair-raising ex 
 periences, rescued so many lovely girls from all man 
 ner of perils, and soundly thrashed so many unprin 
 cipled 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 sim 
 ultaneously 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 fash 
 ion, 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 
 
258 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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. Fid 
 dler. 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 par 
 doned 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, de 
 spite the fact that she was not yet forty-three, de 
 clared 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 symp 
 toms, 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 nui 
 sances that Mr. Bingle had taken under his wing. In 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 259 
 
 Peekskill her mother and sister still lived the simple 
 life, and that was what she wanted more than any 
 thing 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 prefer 
 ence 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 ex 
 pression. 
 
 " 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 physi 
 cally, 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 pres 
 ent, 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 
 
260 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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, Bin- 
 gle. We ll see. I ve never seen your garden look 
 ing 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 foun 
 tain." 
 
 The servant question was another bothersome thing 
 for him to contend with. They were dissatisfied and 
 on the point of leaving, especially the new nurse 
 maids. A general increase in wages served as a tem 
 porary restraint, and a second increase was plainly in 
 sight. For the first time in his life Mr. Bingle pos 
 sessed 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 unrec 
 ognised instrument in the enterprise. He remem- 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 261 
 
 bered in time that he was a deacon in the church hard 
 by, and was sorely afraid that while his own con 
 science 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 Fair- 
 weather 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 consid 
 erable 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 care 
 fully 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 dis 
 may. 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 wed 
 ding 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 ex 
 tended. 
 
 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, implor 
 ingly. 
 
 " We would jump at the chance, Mr. Bingle, to be 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 263 
 
 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 be 
 lieve 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 nurs 
 ing 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 
 
 " 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 gentle 
 man." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Flanders simply, for he 
 was a gentleman. 
 
264* MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 hunf ortunate 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 mas 
 ters, 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." 
 
 66 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 Colum 
 bus Avenue you might call it a sort of general 
 business, fruit, vegetables, hegg eggs, coal, fire 
 wood and vinous liquors, sir. We hexpect to take 
 possession in a fortnight, sir." 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 265 
 
 "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 : 6 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 busi 
 ness, 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 
 
266 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 busi 
 ness 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 gr.eat deal of difficulty, sir, in persuading 
 er to leave your employment. She was most de 
 termined about it at first, sir." 
 
 "You you, Diggs, persuaded her to leave? 
 Ton 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, sir. No offence 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 267 
 
 intended, I hassure you. No underhanded work on 
 my" 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " cried Mr. Bingle. " Me 
 lissa 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 rat 
 tled, 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 
 
268 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 characterising 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 1 coming up the drive in such haste ? " 
 
TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE! 269 
 
 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 sum 
 mer recess, that much I can tell you. Are you ex 
 pecting 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 
 
 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 at 
 tributable to reaction from the Fourth, pervaded the 
 house. By that strange, mysterious form of con 
 tagion described as " sensing," the servants became 
 infected by the depression; questioning looks were 
 answered by questioning looks ; conversation was car 
 ried on in lowered tones and confined almost ex 
 clusively 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 mis 
 giving 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 
 
 270 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 271 
 
 was instructed to telephone to Dr. Fiddler s office in 
 town with an order to his assistant to send out a sec 
 ond nurse without delay. 
 
 At dinner, Mr. Bingle was singularly pale and pre- 
 occupied. His doctor and his lawyer talked of the 
 attitude of the Administration at Washington in re 
 gard 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 conver 
 sations with New York and Washington, and fre 
 quent 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 fa9ade of the great house itself. 
 Head gardener Edgecomb approached and to him 
 Mr. Bingle said: 
 
 " It was a beautiful place a beautiful place, in 
 deed," 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 
 
<TO MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 Flan 
 ders 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 -de 
 cided 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 
 iold them a story. She collected them in the nursery 
 r -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. 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 273 
 
 " 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 win 
 ders, 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 ovef. 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 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 any 
 where. 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 hay 
 stack. They kept on hunting for nearly a week, be 
 cause 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. 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 275 
 
 " 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 pon 
 dering 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 Swan- 
 son 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 stqod 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 
 
276 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 gen 
 eral 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 serv 
 ants 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 serv 
 ants 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 assem 
 blage. 
 
 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 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 277 
 
 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 stipu 
 lated 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 com 
 pany, 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 de 
 cided that my uncle was not competent to dispose of 
 his property, and that I, his conniving nephew, in 
 fluenced him by craft, wiliness, duplicity and so forth 
 
278 MR. BINGLE 
 
 to such an extent that he gave his money to me in 
 stead 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 chil 
 dren, 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 orginial 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 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 279 
 
 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 pay 
 ing you for honest labour, I shall certainly never per 
 mit it to disturb my conscience. As soon as Ruther 
 ford 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 
 
280 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 fore 
 going 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. Pov 
 erty, 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 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 281 
 
 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 ad 
 vised 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 war 
 fare. 
 
282 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 com 
 missioned 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 char 
 ity. " 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. 
 6 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 com- 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 283 
 
 pleted. 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 pre 
 pared to be generous. " My dear sir, the fortunes 
 of war have militated against " 
 
 66 Better say the misfortunes of war," interrupted 
 Mr. Bingle, with a twinkle in his eye. 
 
 66 1 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. Bin 
 gle, and, because he said it apologetically, Mr. Hos 
 kins was not resentful. 
 
 " My clients are disposed to be fair and I will 
 not say charitable generous in their hour of tri 
 umph. 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." 
 
 M Well, that s nice of them," said Mr. Bingle. 
 
 " The amount will be decided upon at some subse- 
 
28% MR. BINGLE 
 
 quent 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 es 
 tate ever since I came into control of it, just because I 
 like to be busy at something I know how to do with 
 out 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." 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 285 
 
 " 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 attor 
 neys, 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 undoubt 
 edly 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 
 
286 MR. BINGLE 
 
 that an opinion had been handed down ? It is incom 
 prehensible ! " 
 
 " It shouldn t be incomprehensible to you, Judge 
 Hoskins," said Mr. Bingle gently. " You are a law 
 yer 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 Hos 
 kins." 
 
 " 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 in 
 crease 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 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 287 
 
 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. Hos 
 kins, 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 noth 
 ing to worry about. Confer with them, Mr. Hos 
 kins, and when you are ready I ll come down and do 
 whatever is necessary in the premises. In the mean 
 time, 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 
 
288 MR. BINGLE 
 
 yourself in the affairs of a poor bookkeeper without 
 a cent to his name. For that is what I am, Mr. Hos- 
 kins: a poor bookkeeper without a cent to his name 
 but still a believer in The Christmas Carol. " 
 
 66 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 appoint 
 ment 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 4 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 classi 
 fied 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 in- 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 289 
 
 terviewed by all of the reporters who had failed to 
 see Mr. Bingle and who had to be content with a state 
 ment 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 men 
 tioned the fact. And, by the way, I don t mind say 
 ing 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 Ram 
 sey 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 try 
 ing to break the child of her homesickness, of her 
 
290 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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: 
 66 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 under 
 stand? 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 grin 
 ning 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 per 
 plexity. 
 
 " 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." 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 291 
 
 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. Bin- 
 gle, 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 agi 
 tated 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 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 unfriendly eyes of the once amiable Rouquin. " Na 
 poleon 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 floun 
 dered 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 mar 
 ried 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. 
 
THE LAW S LAST WORD 293 
 
 Mr. Epps was annoyed because his customer kept 
 him waiting for nearly half-an-hour. He was ex 
 ceedingly 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 re 
 duction. Indeed, it is more than probable that the 
 church-mouse would be conceded a distinct advantage 
 in many particulars. . A very small nest will accom 
 modate 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 re 
 sorting 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 frugal 
 ity, the church-mouse first eats off the tail of its off 
 spring. Then, if luck continues to be bad, the re 
 mainder may be despatched with due and honest 
 respect for the laws of nature. 
 
 Now, with Mr. Bingle, it was quite out of the ques 
 tion 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- 
 
 294 
 
DECEMBER 295 
 
 mouse doesn t have to think about shoes and stock 
 ings 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 em 
 ployed in the rather dubious occupation of support 
 ing a figure of speech. Look carefully into the pres 
 ent 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 re 
 moved from the Third Avenue Elevated tracks. Dis 
 covery 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 par 
 lour), 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 com 
 fortable if one was careful to sit far enough forward 
 
296 MR. BINGLE 
 
 to avoid slipping into its cavernous depths from 
 which there was no escape without assistance. Be 
 sides 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 uncom 
 plaining occupant and kept him awake three-fourths 
 of the night trying to determine whose legs were un 
 covered and whose were not. With six exceedingly 
 active little legs wriggling in as many different di 
 rections 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 puz 
 zle 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, Wil- 
 berforce and Reginald slept in one room, Marie 
 Louise, Henrietta and Guinivere 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- 
 
DECEMBER 297 
 
 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 hap 
 pened 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 
 
298 MR. BINGLE 
 
 daily hope that she would come dashing in upon him, 
 as well as ever and in perfect sympathy with his de 
 cision to protect the helpless children they had gath 
 ered about them in their years of affluence. 
 
 He had stood out resolutely against all conten 
 tion that the children should be cast upon the world 
 once more. Harsh words were used at times by in 
 terested 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 mis 
 taken ideas of justice, responsibility, affection. He 
 came back at them always with the patient declara 
 tion 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 
 
DECEMBER 299 
 
 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, Single, is to turn those kids over to a Home 
 of some sort and settle down to a normal way of liv 
 ing. 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 alto 
 gether, 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 
 
300 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 chil 
 dren." 
 
 " Are you considering your own health, Bingle ? " 
 demanded Force bluntly. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Bingle simply. " I ve lived a de 
 cent, 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 read- 
 ing." 
 
 " 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 
 
DECEMBER 301 
 
 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 sug 
 gest, 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 with 
 out 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 circum 
 stance 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 hus 
 band 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 kind- 
 
302 MR. BINGLE 
 
 ness had not been wasted on this extraordinary serv 
 ant. 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 com 
 plained. 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 hun 
 dred 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 him 
 self. 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 
 
DECEMBER 303 
 
 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 con 
 sider 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 dis 
 charge you without a recommendation, too. We 
 can t have Diggs dying of old age while we are dis 
 cussing 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." 
 
304 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 any 
 body 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 com 
 pany playing there was not so important a person 
 age 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 fre 
 quent visits to the home of Mr. Bingle. The beauti- 
 
DECEMBER 305 
 
 ful and popular Miss Colgate, the sensation of the 
 early season and a certain candidate for stellar 
 honours, never came to see the young Bingles with 
 out betraying a spirit of generosity which some 
 times caused Mr. Bingle to sit up half the night treat 
 ing 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 pres 
 ents 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 open 
 ing night. Amy Colgate, an unknown actress, be 
 came 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 
 
306 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 ap 
 peared 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 enter 
 prise, 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? " 
 
DECEMBER 307 
 
 " 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, 6 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 igno 
 rance 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 sup 
 pose. 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 
 
308 MR. BINGLE 
 
 never would have finished the play and I certainly 
 could not have scraped up the courage to get mar 
 ried 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 di 
 vision 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 6 road for 
 this season and next. It is to be a three cornered ar 
 rangement. 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 per 
 mitted them to go beyond a certain well-defined line. 
 The argument that he had been generous, even 
 philanthropic, in his days of prosperity was invari 
 ably met by the quaint contention that while the Good 
 Book teaches charity, the dictionary makes a point 
 
DECEMBER 309 
 
 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 else 
 where. As she said to the distressed Diggs one eve 
 ning, 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 
 
310 MR. BINGLE 
 
 every afternoon at Seawood. And if I should hap 
 pen 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 carry- 
 ing." 
 
 " 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 read 
 ing 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 obnox 
 ious 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 
 
DECEMBER 311 
 
 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 charm 
 ing, 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" 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 1 Em- 
 peror! 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 your 
 self, 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. 5 
 
DECEMBER 313 
 
 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 what 
 ever 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, at 
 tended by his own mother and father. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 CHRISTMAS was drawing near. The Bingle chil 
 dren, 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 be 
 lieve 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 ex 
 pected and the prospect ahead for them was not reas 
 suring 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 ac 
 cept 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 
 
 314 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 315 
 
 a spectre as wear and tear. He became sullen, irri 
 table and not infrequently rude to Mr. Bingle. Once 
 when Melissa sharply rebuked him for his ingrati 
 tude, 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 in 
 volved 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 ap 
 parent 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 Regi 
 nald, 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 inclu 
 sion of this second group in the general tendency to 
 ward unruliness and resentfulness. 
 
 Mr. Bingle sensed this unhappy condition of af 
 fairs. 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 
 
316 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 interroga 
 tion 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 organisations 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 asso 
 ciating herself with the movement to create and main 
 tain a bureau for the distribution of high class litera- 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 317 
 
 ture 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 Preven 
 tion 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 Res 
 toration of King Manuel to the throne of Portugal 
 that she arose above the ordinary multitude of pub 
 licity 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 al 
 ways 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 Single 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 
 
318 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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. 
 Single 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 inter 
 ruption. 
 
 " 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 des 
 tiny 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 origi 
 nal inspiration which led you to take these poor waifs 
 into your home. But, don t you see, the idea works 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 319 
 
 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 neces 
 sary," said she, and then wearying of her philan 
 thropic labours, abruptly dismissed him with a curt: 
 " And now, goodday, 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 
 
320 MR. BINGLE 
 
 extremely business-like doctor called and took a cul 
 ture, 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 goloshes came to mutter over the extraor 
 dinary 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 pri- 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 321 
 
 vate 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 busi 
 ness 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 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 na 
 ture, 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 ap 
 preciate 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 bar 
 gain 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 de 
 siring 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 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 323 
 
 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. Single 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 re 
 marked 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, im 
 pressed 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." 
 
324 MR. BINGLE 
 
 Mr. Bingle hesitated for a moment. " When you 
 and Diggs are married, Melissa, don t make the mis 
 take 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 Me 
 lissa. 
 
 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 ap 
 pears that people hesitate about taking youngsters as 
 old as these three, and as steeped in vice and igno 
 rance as naturally might be expected in boys and 
 girls of that age. She said, however, that the So 
 ciety 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 So- 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 325 
 
 ciety on the Saturday before Christmas, which fell on 
 a Thursday. 
 
 Mr. Bingle obj ected. 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 sudden 
 ness. 
 
 " 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 Christ 
 mas morning? That s the ticket, my dear," he said, 
 turning to his wife. " Fix it so that a child is de 
 livered 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 my 
 self. 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." 
 
326 MR. BINGLE 
 
 On the Saturday before Christmas he went to die 
 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 liv 
 ing 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 senti 
 mental 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 So 
 ciety 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 col 
 lection, 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 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 327 
 
 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 Rose 
 mary s neck. He had already taken his thin over 
 coat 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 try 
 ing 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, reproach 
 fully ; " 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." 
 
328 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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. JBingle 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 r " his voice shook a lit 
 tle " 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 Wilber- 
 force. 
 
 " I want to hear about Tiny Tim," piped up Rose 
 mary, 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 dis 
 tress. " 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 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 329 
 
 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 6 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. " 
 
330 MR. SINGLE 
 
 There was a pathetic attempt at seasonable illumi 
 nation and decoration in the crowded living-room, 
 sprigs of holly, some tapers and tinsel, cotton snow 
 balls 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 com 
 pactly 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. Dur 
 ing 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 be 
 hind the stove, with Mr. Bingle s reading glasses, both 
 ready for use. 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 331 
 
 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 over 
 coats, 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, Wat 
 son and I ave, sir of fetching with us a thump 
 ing 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, gentle 
 men," he murmured. " But, I say, wouldn t it be bet 
 ter 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 
 
332 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 din 
 ner just a couple of nice fat hens, and some as 
 paragus, 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 approv- 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 333 
 
 inglj. " 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 Me 
 lissa in a voice that shrivelled Diggs. 
 
 " That s it, sir, I am a stupid, blundering English 
 man 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 per 
 form. 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 pene 
 trating but comforting scent of stewed chicken. 
 
 " It is good of you and Watson to come down this 
 evening, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle, speaking with diffi 
 culty. " 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 
 
334 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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, 
 66 have you heard the news ? " 
 
 " The news, sir? Is is Mrs. Bingle " 
 
 "Sh!" hissed Melissa. 
 
 " The news about Melissa. She is going to be mar 
 ried 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. 
 
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE 335 
 
 " 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 ap 
 proached 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. 
 
336 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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. 
 
4 *Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning over to 
 
 nftlv in A1Y "Ri nrvlo c OOT 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE LAST TO ARRIVE 
 
 MR. BINGLE was an optimist. It seems hardly 
 necessary to make this statement, but for the pur 
 pose 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 econ 
 omy by cutting the excess timber up into kindling 
 wood, and no doubt something could be saved by put 
 ting 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 
 337 
 
338 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 in 
 teresting, provided the shades are up. Usually, how 
 ever, 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." 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 339 
 
 " 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, Wil- 
 berforce and some brussels sprouts. And how 
 about you, Rutherford? Anything more? " 
 
 " I ll have some more soup, daddy," said Ruther 
 ford 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. u There s no sense in 
 your acting like this, Mr. Bingle." 
 
 "Sh!" 
 
340 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 reproach 
 fully despite his lordly air. Then, with stately 
 tread, he passed into the little hallway and threw open 
 the outer door. 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 341 
 
 " 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 re 
 action. 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 for 
 getting 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 serv 
 ants. They were frequently on the verge of becom 
 ing prosperous green-grocers and joining in the jolli 
 fication. 
 
 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. 
 
MR. BINGLE 
 
 " 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 anni 
 versaries. 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 van 
 ished 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 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 343 
 
 you got to say now, Mr. Single, on this Merry Christ 
 mas 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 con 
 trol 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, con 
 fronting the eager, covetous children as she arose 
 from the trunk which served as a chair for both her 
 self 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, 
 
344 MR. SINGLE 
 
 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, question- 
 ingly 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 great 
 coat. 
 
 " 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? " 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 345 
 
 "I I am, sir," gasped Melissa, gripping the 
 small package tightly and shooting a look of appre 
 hension 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 mur 
 dered 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 
 
346 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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" 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 347 
 
 " Hush, Dick I Mr. Bingle knows you are an au 
 thor. 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 6 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 re 
 leased a good geni from its smoky insides. So I sup 
 pose 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 re 
 pressed group of children. She had been whisper 
 ing 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 
 
348 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 in 
 clined. 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 run 
 ning 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 young 
 sters 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. Flan 
 ders?" 
 
 Mrs. Flanders replied just as sweetly. " No, 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 349 
 
 thank you, Mrs. Force. Our own limousine is wait- 
 ing." 
 
 " We ve come to hear the Christmas Carol, Bin- 
 gle," 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 foot 
 man brought up numerous gifts from the rich Kath 
 leen 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 
 
350 MR. BINGLE 
 
 of which, he argued, went far toward establishing 
 his point, notwithstanding the fact that they mani 
 festly 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 re 
 ply, 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 paste 
 board 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. 
 6 Monsieur Thomas Singleton Bingle. Now what 
 can" 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 351 
 
 " 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 go 
 ing 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 im 
 portant." 
 
 " 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 cot 
 tage and farm just above my place in the country? 
 
352 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 gen 
 tleman 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, uncon 
 sciously 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 audi 
 ence 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 per 
 form the impossible. It was seldom that he could 
 see the print on account of the mist that lay in his 
 tired, forlorn grey eyes. 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 353 
 
 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 Kath 
 leen. 
 
 " 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 surpris 
 ing authority and decision. Mr. Bingle started as 
 
354 MR. BINGLE 
 
 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 rhi- 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 355 
 
 noceros 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 Wat 
 son 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-mor 
 row." 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 " 
 
356 MR. BINGLE 
 
 " A nurse ? Oh, my Lord 1 " 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 U 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 beauti 
 fully. 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 de 
 grees don t want him to knock under completely. 
 
THE LAST TO ARRIVE 357 
 
 you know I m going to take him up to the hos 
 pital." 
 
 Melissa leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. 
 
 " Boy or girl, Doctor ? " she whispered. 
 
 " A boy, God bless him," said Dr. Fiddler. 
 
 THE END 
 
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