Bingle's hand and booming
Christmas greetings to every one in hearing--and out of it, for that
matter, such a voice he had!
"Mary? What--how is she, Doctor?" cried Mr. Bingle, peering beyond the
bulky form of the doctor as if expecting to see his wife in the little
hallway.
"Fine as a fiddle," said Dr. Fiddler, using a pet and somewhat
personal phrase.
"No--no bad news?" stammered Mr. Bingle. "You're not trying to break
anything gently to me, are you?"
"Gently?" roared the doctor. "Does a rhinoceros break things gently?"
He threw off his great ulster and began jerking at his gloves. "Just
thought I'd run down to see you, Bingle. Christmas Eve comes but once
a year. Hope I'm not too late for the Carol. I missed hearing it last
year, and--"
"If you'll swear to me that Mary is all right, I'll--I'll read it over
again," cried Mr. Bingle.
"I swear it on my word as a gentleman," said Fiddler, "but for
heaven's sake don't read it over again. I'll take it for granted.
Besides I always cry when we get to the Tiny Tim part, so--I say
Force, don't you cry?"
"I did to-night," said Sydney Force, his face beaming.
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