The time may come when I shall have to appeal for help, or give
up the struggle altogether, but it isn't here yet. I can manage for a
while, thank you. Besides," and his face brightened, "we may have a
very mild winter, and the new tariff is just as likely as not to
reduce the cost of living, no matter what you croakers say to the
contrary. I've talked it over with Mrs. Bingle. She says she can't
come home until she is very much better, and I'll admit that the
children would be a dreadful strain upon her nerves at present. But
she says I'm to do just as I think best in regard to them. She thinks
I'm foolish--in fact, she says so--but I think I understand her better
than any one else. Down in her heart she knows I'm doing the right
thing. We'll wait, like old Micawber, for something to turn up. If it
doesn't turn up in a reasonable length of time, then I'll consider
what is best to do with the children."
"Are you considering your own health, Bingle?" demanded Force bluntly.
"No," said Mr. Bingle simply. "I've lived a decent, sensible life, so
what's the use worrying over something that can't be helped?" His
smile was cheerful, the twinkle in his eyes was as bright as though it
had never known a dim moment.
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