"Well, sir," said Diggs, after looking to Melissa for approval or inspiration, "we decided as how Christmas comes but once a year, and as the boys in the shop can manage very nicely without us for a couple of hours, we says to ourselves we would come down and 'ear the 'Christmas Carol' if you don't mind, sir, for old times' sake. Miss Stokes--I mean to say, Mrs. Watson, will be along presently, sir. She stopped for a spell, to relieve the cashier while she went to supper. And--" "That's enough, Mr. Diggs," interrupted Melissa. "You'll spoil it if you go on." "Oh, I say, Melissa--" "Out to the kitchen with you, and get out of that fur coat. You are perspiring like everything." Mr. Bingle called Diggs back just as he was on the point of disappearing through the door. "By the way, Diggs," he said, smiling broadly, "have you heard the news?" "The news, sir? Is--is Mrs. Bingle--" "Sh!" hissed Melissa. "The news about Melissa. She is going to be married in this very room two weeks from to-night, Diggs. How is that for news?" "Married? Good God, sir!" gasped Diggs. "Married to you, Diggs, and I am going to give the bride away!" "Oh, pshaw, Mr. Bingle!" cried Melissa, covering her flaming face with her apron. "Do--do you mean it, Mr. Bingle?" cried Diggs, with beaming eyes. "I do. I'm getting tired of seeing you two around, so I'm going to MAKE you get married. Now, don't say you'll refuse, Diggs, for--" "Refuse! God bless you, sir--I--" "You see," went on Mr. Bingle, coming to the poor fellow's relief, "I have a notion that Mrs. Bingle will be home by that time, and--and we'll get along very cosily here in--but, run along, Melissa! Bring in the feast! Hey, children?" The children shouted vociferously, and Reginald, pursuing Melissa to the door, implored her to take back what she had said about the dumplings. To his surprise, Melissa kissed him. Later on, Diggs returned from the kitchen and approached Mr. Bingle, who was sitting beside the stove with his back to the door, holding Rosemary and Rutherford on his knees. "Dinner is served, sir," said Diggs in his most formal, dignified manner. Mr. Bingle looked up, surprised by a voice that came resounding down from the past. The children were already staring open-mouthed at Diggs, who stood attired in his well-remembered dress-suit, the imposing, self-contained figure of a butler of the most approved type. "God bless my soul," gasped Mr. Bingle. "Quite so, sir," said Diggs smoothly. He drew out Mr. Bingle's chair, and the little man, completely dazed, sank abruptly into it. The children found their places, chattering like magpies. "Lest they forget," said Diggs, leaning over to speak softly in Mr. Bingle's ear.