"How's that?"
"We'll have a long, bitter fight on our hands, but—we'll win. There will be a contest, you see."
"All right," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes snapping. "I'm ready. I stood by Uncle Joe when he was alive, you can bet your last dollar I'm not going back on him now that he's dead."
That evening, sitting over the crackling grate fire, Mr. Bingle broke a long period of silence by remarking to his wife:
"I dare say we can afford to adopt one or two, Mary, with all this money we're going to have."
CHAPTER VI — THE HONOURABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE
Time flies.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .