"Are you cold?" inquired Mr. Bingle, herding them a little closer to
the grate.

"Yes," said two of the Sykeses.

"Sir," admonished Melissa.

"Sir!" said all of the Sykeses.

"Now, draw up the chairs," said Mr. Bingle, clearing his throat.
"Mary, you'd better take Kate and Georgie on your lap, and suppose you
hold Maud, Melissa. It will be more cosy." This was his way of
overcoming the shortage in chairs.

Now, it was Mr. Bingle's custom to read "The Christmas Carol" on
Christmas Eve. It was his creed, almost his religion, this heart-
breaking tale by Dickens. Not once, but a thousand times, he had
proclaimed that if all men lived up to the teachings of "The Christmas
Carol" the world would be sweeter, happier, nobler, and the churches
could be put to a better use than at present, considering (as he said)
that they now represent assembling places for people who read neither
Dickens nor the Scripture but sing with considerable intelligence. It
was his contention that "The Christmas Carol" teaches a good many
things that the Church overlooks in its study of Christ, and that the
surest way to make good men out of ALL boys is to get at their hearts
while their souls are fresh and simple. Put the New Testament and "The
Christmas Carol" in every boy's hand, said he, and they will create a
religion that has something besides faith for a foundation. One
sometimes forgets that Christ was crucified, but no one ever forgets