"
"Hear! Hear!" volunteered three or four of the men-servants
diffidently.
"We are all servants of the Lord whose anniversary we celebrate. We
gather here about a warm fireside, with the historic yule log blazing--
er--figuratively speaking, of course. These logs, naturally, are not
historic. They--er--ahem! Ahem!" He floundered. "Still, we gather
about them, just the same, warm and snug and full of good cheer.
Outside, the night is cold and blustery. The wind howls around the--"
The door-bell jangled in the distance. Mr. Bingle hesitated for an
instant and then went on:
"Howls around the corners with the fury of the wintry--ahem!--blast.
And it snows. 'It snows, cries the schoolboy!' You remember the
verses, children. You--See who's there, Diggs. Perhaps it is some
neighbour come to wish us--and, Diggs, no matter who it is, ask him--
or them--to come right in here. I'll--I'll wait a few minutes. Hurry
along, please." Resuming his address he beamed upon the row of
wriggling children. "We have before us eleven little ladies and
gentlemen, all eager for the Christmas dawn.
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