"Don't you want to hear about Old Scrooge and Tiny Tim?" she
whispered.
"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!" commanded Mr. Bingle, taking his place at the
reading-table. "Please be seated, Mr. Force. Hi! Look out! Not on top
of Rosemary."
"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 between master and man, no--What is it,
Delia?"
The cook had stepped forward. "Excuse me for interruptin', 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.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175