Mr. Force had glanced surreptitiously at his watch at least a dozen times during the reading of the story. An anxious frown settled on his brow and an observer might have remarked the strange, listening attitude that he affected at times, such as the alert cocking of his head and an intense squinting of the eyes. "Now, if my dear Mary could only pop in on us and--" but Mr. Bingle choked up suddenly and turned his attention to the stirring of the coals in the stove. The door-bell pealed again, this time with surprising authority and decision. Mr. Bingle started as if shot. As he faced the little hall, his eyes were wide with an incredulous stare of wonder. "Good God in heaven," he murmured, "can it be possible that--but no! It cannot be Mary. That would be too wonderful. Watson--Melissa, will you please see who's--who's there?" As rigid as a post he stood over the stove, holding the poker in his hand, his eyes fastened upon the door as Watson sprang to open it. The cheerful voice of old Dr. Fiddler--the GREAT Dr. Fiddler--came roaring into the room ahead of its owner. "By the Lord Harry, it's a cold night--Hello! What's this? Liveried servants again? Well, upon my soul, I--Ah, there you are, Bingle! How are you, Force?" The next instant he was wringing Mr. Bingle's hand and booming Christmas greetings to every one in hearing--and out of it, for that matter, such a voice he had! "Mary? What--how is she, Doctor?" cried Mr. Bingle, peering beyond the bulky form of the doctor as if expecting to see his wife in the little hallway. "Fine as a fiddle," said Dr. Fiddler, using a pet and somewhat personal phrase. "No--no bad news?" stammered Mr. Bingle. "You're not trying to break anything gently to me, are you?" "Gently?" roared the doctor. "Does a rhinoceros break things gently?" He threw off his great ulster and began jerking at his gloves. "Just thought I'd run down to see you, Bingle. Christmas Eve comes but once a year. Hope I'm not too late for the Carol. I missed hearing it last year, and--" "If you'll swear to me that Mary is all right, I'll--I'll read it over again," cried Mr. Bingle. "I swear it on my word as a gentleman," said Fiddler, "but for heaven's sake don't read it over again. I'll take it for granted. Besides I always cry when we get to the Tiny Tim part, so--I say Force, don't you cry?" "I did to-night," said Sydney Force, his face beaming. "And you, Diggs?" "Like a blooming baby, sir," said Diggs, and Watson blew his nose violently. "Doctor, I thought for a moment that it was Mary at the door," said Mr. Bingle slowly. He was still trembling.