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Bingle," he said, with a genial
smile.
"How's that?"
"We'll have a long, bitter fight on our hands, but--we'll win. There
will be a contest, you see."
"All right," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes snapping. "I'm ready. I stood
by Uncle Joe when he was alive, you can bet your last dollar I'm not
going back on him now that he's dead."
That evening, sitting over the crackling grate fire, Mr. Bingle broke
a long period of silence by remarking to his wife:
"I dare say we can afford to adopt one or two, Mary, with all this
money we're going to have."


CHAPTER VI
THE HONOURABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE

Time flies.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It is another Christmas Eve, ten years later than the one described in
the opening chapter of this narrative. The Honourable Thomas Singleton
Bingle is preparing for his annual reading of "The Christmas Carol."
The sentiment which influences him on this occasion is the same that
inspired the habit in his days of long ago, but the surroundings have
changed.


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