Bingle, "or send Melissa out
of the room. I can't--"
"He made himself some coffee and--"
"Call the elevator boy, as I tell you--No, wait! Dress yourself first,
you silly thing," commanded Mrs. Bingle, and Melissa fled.
The old man was gone, there could be no doubt about that.
Investigations proved that he had left the building at precisely
sixteen minutes of seven, the janitor declaring that he had looked at
his watch the instant the old man appeared on the sidewalk where he
was shovelling away the snow. He admitted that nothing short of a
miracle could have caused him to go to the trouble of getting out his
watch on a morning as cold as this one happened to be, and so he
regarded old Mr. Hooper's exit as a most astonishing occurrence.
Further investigation showed that he had walked down the six tortuous
flights of stairs instead of ringing for the elevator, and that he was
clad in Mr. Bingle's best overcoat, an ulster of five winters, to say
nothing of his arctics, gloves and muffler.
No one, not even Mr. Bingle, could deny that it was a very shabby
thing to do on a Christmas morning, and for once the gentle bookkeeper
lost faith in his fellow-man.
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