She thought he was losing his mind, and told Diggs so when he came in at six o'clock to help her with the feast they were to have. "Get away from that stove, Freddy, and you too, Marie Louise," she commanded. "Can't you see your daddy is shivering? Hustle now! Don't soak up all the heat in the room. Let him stand in front of the fire, you little--" "Now, now, Melissa," said Mr. Bingle, reproachfully; "don't blame the kiddies. They're cold and--by the way, is there no steam in the radiator?" "I shut off the measly thing awhile ago," she said. "There was too much cold air coming up through the pipes. Honestly, Mr. Bingle, if you happened to stand near that there radiator you'd feel a draft." The children were dressed in their Sunday best, prepared for the coming exodus. They were neat and clean, and although six months had lengthened their bodies and shortened their garments, their patches and shreds were not so vindictive that they slapped Mr. Bingle's pride in face, if the metaphor is permissible. "I hope," said he, with his thin shoulders close to the fire, "that we will have time for 'The Christmas Carol' before they--the--" his voice shook a little--"before the gentlemen come for you, kidlets. Perhaps if we were to hurry supper along a little bit, Melissa, we could manage it." "I don't want to hear that thing again," said Frederick boldly. He appeared to be the leader of a movement to squash "The Christmas Carol." "Neither do I," said Marie Louise and Wilberforce. "I want to hear about Tiny Tim," piped up Rosemary, almost in tears. "Well, you haven't heard it all your life like we have," said Frederick, scowling at the little one. "You've only heard it twice." "Dear me," sighed Mr. Bingle, in evident distress. "Don't you want to hear 'The Carol' before you say good-bye to daddy--forever?" "No," said Frederick; "and I'll bet they don't read it where we're going, either." "Perhaps not, Frederick," said he slowly, turning a rather wistful face toward Melissa, who had come in with a pan full of coals. "There is one thing I quite forgot, Melissa." "What's that, sir?" "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--"