Christmas to both of you."

"Beg pardon, sir," stammered Watson, sheepishly. "I'm ashamed of
myself, sir. It shan't 'appen again, not so long as I'm in your
service." The coachman shuffled his left foot uneasily and appeared to
find something of great interest in the rug on which he was standing.
At any rate, he scrutinised it very intently. Mr. Bingle smiled as he
turned away.

Miss Fairweather suddenly leaned over and whispered into the ear of
young Wilberforce. He paid no attention to her, so she shook him
gently by the arm. A moment later, obeying an unspoken command, he
sheepishly removed two large wads of cotton from his ears.

"Don't you want to hear about Old Scrooge and Tiny Tim?" she
whispered.

"I wish I'd thought of doing that," lamented Mr. Force audibly. He had
witnessed the little incident.

"I'd sooner hear about Melissa's pirates and sea-cooks," whispered
Wilberforce shrilly.

"Order, please!" commanded Mr. Bingle, taking his place at the
reading-table. "Please be seated, Mr. Force. Hi! Look out! Not on top
of Rosemary."

"Good heavens! I might have squashed her--or him. What are you? A boy
or a girl?"