The great white bird in the Congregational Church tower--that being Bob's thought of it--flew out across the valley with its tidings of good will. To the little Shepherd it seemed to say: "Bing--Bing--Bing--Bing--Bing--Bing! Com-ing, Com-ing, Com-ing!!" Many of the friends of his mother--mostly poor folk of the parish who worked in the mill--came with simple gifts and happy greetings. There were those among them who thought it a blessing to look upon the sweet face of Bob and to hear his merry laughter over some playful bit of gossip and Judge Crooker said that they were quite right about it. Mr. and Mrs. J. Patterson Bing were never to feel this blessing. The Shepherd of the Birds waited in vain for them that Christmas Day. Mrs. Bing sent a letter of kindly greeting and a twenty-dollar gold piece and explained that her husband was not feeling "quite up to the mark," which was true. "I'm not going," he said decisively, when Mrs. Bing brought the matter up as he was smoking in the library an hour or so after dinner. "No cripples and misery in mine at present, thank you! I wouldn't get over it for a week. Just send them our best wishes and a twenty-dollar gold piece." There were tears in the Shepherd's eyes when his mother helped him into his night clothes that evening. "I hate that twenty-dollar gold piece!" he exclaimed. "Laddie boy! Why should ye be sayin' that?" The shiny piece of metal was lying on the window-sill. She took it in her hand. "It's as cold as a snow-bank!" she exclaimed. "I don't want to touch it! I'm shivering now," said the Shepherd. "Put it away in the drawer. It makes me sick. It cheated me out of seeing Mr. Bing." CHAPTER TWO THE FOUNDING OF THE PHYLLISTINES One little word largely accounted for the success of J. Patterson Bing. It was the word "no." It saved him in moments which would have been full of peril for other men. He had never made a bad investment because he knew how and when to say "no." It fell from his lips so sharply and decisively that he lost little time in the consideration of doubtful enterprises. Sometimes it fell heavily and left a wound, for which Mr. Bing thought himself in no way responsible. There was really a lot of good-will in him. He didn't mean to hurt any one. "Time is a thing of great value and what's the use of wasting it in idle palaver?" he used to say. One day, Hiram Blenkinsop, who was just recovering from a spree, met Mr. Bing at the corner of Main and School Streets and asked him for the loan of a dollar. "_No sir!_" said Mr. J. Patterson Bing, and the words sounded like two whacks of a hammer on a nail. "No _sir_," he repeated, the second whack being now the more emphatic. "I don't lend money to people who make a bad use of it." "Can you give me work?" asked the unfortunate drunkard. "No! But if you were a hired girl, I'd consider the matter."