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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Mr. Bingle"

You may depend upon
it, Freddie."
"Thank you, Mr. Flanders. I have great confidence in you. I trust you.
If you should ever require the support of a strong and willing
henchman in time of dire trouble or conflict with merciless--
merciless--" He stopped in distress. Once more Melissa's well-turned
sentences went back on him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember
the all-important noun.
"Scoundrels," supplied Mr. Flanders kindly.
"No, that isn't the word," said Frederick, thinking hard. "Merciless--
merciless--Oh, yes--renegades! If you should ever require the support
of a strong and--"
"All right," cried Flanders. "I understand. I'll call on you, you may
be sure."
"There was something more I wanted to say, but the--the words don't
seem to come as they ought to."
"It's this beastly weather," said Flanders. "I never can think well in
cold weather. I seem to freeze up."
Frederick was relieved. "I guess maybe that's it. When are you going
to marry her?" The last was a genuine, unrehearsed inquiry and
completely summed up the situation so far as he was concerned.


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