"Oh, she won't be here for a couple of weeks, Bingle--perhaps three. But she's coming, old man--coming with banners flying and bells on her toes. 'Gad, you won't know her when you see her to-morrow." He sent a quick, frowning glance around the room. "They're gone, eh? All of 'em? Good! I must tell you in advance, Bingle, that Mrs. Bingle will have to bring a nurse with her--for a while, at least. So, you see, we'll need all the room--" "A nurse? Oh, my Lord!" gasped Mr. Bingle, dropping into a chair as his knees gave way beneath him. "Is--is it as bad as that?" "Cheer up!" cried the doctor, laying a hand upon his shoulder, and suddenly giving him a violent shake. "Nothing to be alarmed over, I give you my word. She's as fine as a fiddle, I tell you. And now, give me a full glass of that amazing egg-nogg you make, Bingle. I'm frozen to the bone." "Egg-nogg?" murmured Mr. Bingle, helplessly. "Why, God bless my soul, I--I never thought of it. Melissa, have we any whiskey in the house? No, of course not--and we have no cream, I fear, so--" "Beg pardon, sir," interrupted Diggs, "we 'ave all of the hingredients. Watson 'appened to think of the cold trip 'ome, sir." "Sit down, then," cried Mr. Bingle. "I'll mix the grog for you, Doctor, in two shakes of a lamb's tail." He flew into the kitchen. Instantly Mr. Force had Dr. Fiddler by the arm. The others crowded close about the pair. "How is it, Doctor? All right?" "Wonderful!" whispered Dr. Fiddler. "She WOULD have her own way about it, and, by gad, I think she was inspired, now that it's turned out so beautifully. Half-past six this morning. She's a strong, perfect woman. I've got my car waiting downstairs and as soon as I've broken the news to him by degrees--don't want him to knock under completely, you know--I'm going to take him up to the hospital." Melissa leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Boy or girl, Doctor?" she whispered. "A boy, God bless him," said Dr. Fiddler. THE END