"In a measure. There are times when they look upon me as a sort of truck-horse. But real fathers have told me that that is customary. They call me daddy, if that's what you mean. Once in a while they seem to recollect that there was another man and woman in their lives, but not often. Generally people who used to beat them, I gather. I will say this for our children: they were all thoroughly spanked before they came to us. It takes 'em a long time to get used to not being spanked."
"Do you never punish them?"
"Frequently. If they're bad I have them locked in a closet. We've got a very large closet with windows and other comforts. Usually there are three or four of 'em in at the same time, so they don't mind."
"God will surely reward you, sir, for being kind to all these poor little kiddies. May I—ahem!—May I express the hope, sir, that some day you may me blessed with—er—"
"No use, sir. Thank you, just the same. It will never happen."
"How many nurses have you in your employ?"
"Four at present. We also have a school-teacher—I mean, a governess. Excellent young woman. Teaches 'em French and German. Curiously enough some of the children take to foreign languages quicker than the others. Force says that Reginald is a Hebrew. He was supposed to be Irish."
"Very interesting. All of them strong and healthy?"
"Absolutely. You'd think so if you could see 'em fight occasionally. They've had the whooping cough and chicken-pox. My doctor is the renowned Dr. Fiddler. You know of him?"
Mr. Bingle proceeded to dilate upon the activities and achievements of Dr. Fiddler. There had been broken arms and prodigious bruises, cuts and gashes of every conceivable character, and in every instance Dr. Fiddler had performed with heroic fidelity. In the middle of a particularly enthusiastic tribute to the doctor's skill as a fish-bone extractor, Diggs appeared in the doorway, coughed indulgently, and then advanced.