"Well, anyhow, Mr. Bingle," Melissa replied, impressed by this confession of failure, "as soon as the kids have left we'll have Mrs. Bingle back again, and that's something to look forward to, sir. We'll go back to the old way of living, which was the best, after all, wasn't it? Just you and me and Mrs. Bingle."
Mr. Bingle hesitated for a moment. "When you and Diggs are married, Melissa, don't make the mistake of adopting a child."
"We won't, sir," said Melissa confidently. She twisted the corner of her apron for a few seconds and then ventured hardily: "Miss Stokes is expecting a baby, sir."
"You mean Mrs. Watson, Melissa. Dear me, that is good news. A boy or a girl? God bless my soul, what a silly question! You see, I'm so in the habit of choosing the gender in advance that I quite forgot myself. I meant to inquire WHEN."
"They've been married five months, sir," said Melissa.
Two weeks before Christmas, Mrs. Force came to the bank to report to Mr. Bingle that homes were in view for six of the children, in fact for all except Frederick, Marie Louise and Wilberforce. It appears that people hesitate about taking youngsters as old as these three, and as steeped in vice and ignorance as naturally might be expected in boys and girls of that age. She said, however, that the Society was making a point of telling people how nicely and how advantageously all of the children had been reared by the late Mr. Bingle. She smiled when she said the "late Mr. Bingle," for it was a capital joke and she had every intention of making the most of it.
It was proposed that the applicants should meet Mr. Bingle and the children at the offices of the Society on the Saturday before Christmas, which fell on a Thursday.
Mr. Bingle objected. He said he couldn't think of letting them go before Christmas. These people would have to wait until after Christmas Eve, and that was final. President Force, coming to his wife's rescue, ironically suggested to the little bookkeeper that it was barely possible that other people were in the habit of inflicting children with "The Christmas Carol." He flushed, however, under the mild stare with which Mr. Bingle favoured him, and proceeded to change his tune with considerable alacrity. A happy thought seemed to have struck him with some suddenness.
"By Jove, Bingle, I have a splendid scheme. What could be more fitting than that these child-seekers should receive just what they want on Christmas morning? That's the ticket, my dear," he said, turning to his wife. "Fix it so that a child is delivered bright and early on Christmas morning—in its own stockings, of course—and there you are! A Merry Christmas for everybody, and perhaps a Happy New Year. What do you think of it, Bingle?"
"Splendid!" said Mr. Bingle. "I wish I could have thought of that when I was in the business myself. It would have been great to have a new baby every Christmas morning. I will agree to that, Mrs. Force, provided I approve of the people I'm supposed to be Santa Claus for."