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Bingle," after a sententious
whisper from their aunt.
They were a rosy, clean-scrubbed lot, these little Sykeses. Their
mother may not have fared overly well herself, but she had contrived
to put flesh and fat on the bones of her progeny, and you would go a
long way before you would find a plumper, merrier group of children
than those who came to the Bingle flat on Christmas Eve in their very
best garments and with their very best appetites. The eldest was ten,
the youngest four, and it so happened that the beginning and the end
of the string were boys, the three in between being Mary, Maud, and
Kate.
Mrs. Bingle helped them off with their coats and caps and mufflers,
then hugged them and lugged them up to the fire, while Melissa removed
her skunk tippet, her poney coat and a hat that would have created
envy in the soul of a less charitable creature than the mistress of
the house.
"And now," said Mr. Bingle, confronting the group, "who made you?"
"God, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, very much after the habit of
a dog that is ordered to "speak.


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