Bingle.
Fifteen years of kindness had not been wasted on this extraordinary
servant. She was as true as she was unique in this age of
abominations.
The older children went to a public school not far away, and Melissa
looked after the young ones through the long, slow days, relieved only
from her self-imposed duties when Mr. Bingle came home from the bank.
Neither Melissa nor Mr. Bingle had had a full day off in all these
months, and neither complained. When Sunday came, he always urged her
to spend it with friends, leaving him to attend to the midday meal and
dinner, but she firmly, even arrogantly, refused to permit any one to
meddle with her kitchen. She forced him to go to the Bronx every
Sunday afternoon, whether he would or no, and demanded a staggering
decrease in wages.
"Why, Mr. Bingle," she said, "you can't expect me to work for the same
pay I was getting out at Seawood. Don't be silly, sir; wasn't I
getting more out there than the butler got? And didn't I save nearly
every cent of it for eight years and more? I was getting twenty-five
dollars a week out there, wasn't I? And Mr.
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