Bingle dropped his eyes and began fumbling
blindly for the bone-handled fork at his plate.
He heard Frederick cry out: "I don't want to go away now, Daddy!
Hurray! We've got Diggs and Watson back!" And then came the eager
cries of many other voices, all of one accord. They wanted to stay! He
suddenly knew why.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Through the mist that covered
his eyes, he saw the champagne glass that stood alone beside his
plate.
[Illustration with caption: "Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning
over to speak softly in Mr. Bingle's ear]
CHAPTER XVII
THE LAST TO ARRIVE
Mr. Bingle was an optimist. It seems hardly necessary to make this
statement, but for the purpose of giving him a fair start along a new
line of endeavour we resort to the distinctly obvious, and then
announce that he brushed away the tears and laughed as gaily as any of
them over the surprises that followed the one which momentarily caused
him to falter. He was not given to looking upon the dark side of
things. Even as he sat there at the head of the long table, he
jocosely remarked to Diggs that he would have to borrow a saw from the
janitor the next day and reduce the size of his board by five feet at
least.
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