"
"Well, well," said Mr. Bingle helplessly. "I don't know what to say,
Diggs. What would you say, Reginald, if any one was as nice to you as
Mr. Diggs and Mr. Watson are to me?"
"I'd say open 'em up to-night and not be stingy," said Reginald,
following Watson with greedy eyes.
Melissa glared at him. "Just for that I ought to hold back your share
of the chicken dumplings, young man!" Then she got quite red in the
face. Mr. Bingle was looking at her in amazement.
"Chicken dumplings?" he murmured.
"Well, you see, sir," said Melissa, "I thought as how it wouldn't
matter to you if I went out on my own hook and got a few things for a
Christmas Eve dinner--just a couple of nice fat hens, and some
asparagus, and parsley, and sweet potatoes, and--well, just a few
little things like that. Thinks I, we can't afford to let these
children go away without a bang-up meal in their little insides, so's
nobody could think they was ever hungry in their lives, and so this
morning I just stepped out and--oh, yes, I forgot, sir, I DID get a
few hot house grapes and one or two other trifles, just to make it
seem real, not to mention some celery and olives and fruitcakes.
Pages:
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416