The double ring of a street-car bell had reached his
ears, and he knew that a car had stopped at the corner below.
"According to the weather report this afternoon," he concluded, re-
crossing the room to sit down beside the fire, very erect and
expectant, a smile on his pinched, eager face. He was watching the
hall door.
It was Christmas Eve. There were signs of the season in every corner
of the plain but cosy little sitting-room. Mistletoe hung from the
chandelier; gay bunting and strands of gold and silver tinsel draped
the bookcase and the writing desk; holly and myrtle covered the wall
brackets, and red tissue paper shaded all of the electric light
globes; big candles and little candles flickered on the mantelpiece,
and some were red and some were white and yet others were green and
blue with the paint that Mr. Bingle had applied with earnest though
artless disregard for subsequent odours; packages done up in white and
tied with red ribbon, neatly double-bowed, formed a significant
centrepiece for the ornate mahogany library table--and one who did not
know the Bingles would have looked about in quest of small fry with
popping, covetous eyes and sleekly brushed hair.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25