"I forgot to stipulate that the 'Carol' HAD to be read on Christmas Eve in every one of these homes. Dear me, how could I have been so thoughtless."
"I wouldn't worry about that, sir. You're giving these people enough trouble without doing that to them. And as for you, Master Frederick, you'll probably find that instead of reading the 'Carol' to you they'll take you out in the woodshed and give you a touch of Dante's Infernal every once in awhile."
"I'll—I'll kill 'em if they do," cried Frederick loudly.
"Frederick the Great!" exclaimed Melissa with vast scorn. "Here now, you there, get to work and fetch the chairs and stools in from the bedrooms and put 'em up to the table. There's a couple in the kitchen, Wilber. Hustle out and—"
"Don't call me Wilber," snapped Wilberforce. "Haven't I always told you I hate it? Remember you're only a servant. Don't you go—"
"Tut, tut!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, moving over so that Melissa could drop the coals into the stove. "Remember you are only a gentleman, Wilberforce."
"I'd like to know how I can remember it in a place like this," pouted the boy.
"It's all right, Mr. Bingle," said Melissa cheerily, "I don't mind being called a servant. It's better than 'hired girl.'"
There was a pathetic attempt at seasonable illumination and decoration in the crowded living-room, sprigs of holly, some tapers and tinsel, cotton snowballs and popcorn strands being in the least congested corners, and the table had ten candles standing in two sedate rows. These were not to be lighted until just before soup was served, and each participant at the board was to light his or her candle from the taper supplied by Melissa.
Over in one corner of the room reposed a small pile of packages, each neatly tied up with red ribbon. These represented the gifts of Mr. Bingle and Melissa to the palpably indifferent youngsters. Two bottles of milk stood on the radiator, which, according to Melissa, was infinitely colder than the ice box in the pantry. Incidentally, it is worth while to mention that in one of the bedrooms there were nine compactly wrapped bundles, each marked by a name, but not tied up in red ribbon. They contained the few belongings of the nine children, and they were all ready for the coming of the Society's agents. During the day Mrs. Force had sent her automobile and a footman to remove the toys and treasures left over from the reign of plenty, taking them to headquarters for future distribution among their owners. This was done while Mr. Bingle was at the bank. He could not have endured this part of the business.