er--figuratively speaking, of course. These logs, naturally, are not
historic. They--er--ahem! Ahem!" He floundered. "Still, we gather
about them, just the same, warm and snug and full of good cheer.
Outside, the night is cold and blustery. The wind howls around the--"

The door-bell jangled in the distance. Mr. Bingle hesitated for an
instant and then went on:

"Howls around the corners with the fury of the wintry--ahem!--blast.
And it snows. 'It snows, cries the schoolboy!' You remember the
verses, children. You--See who's there, Diggs. Perhaps it is some
neighbour come to wish us--and, Diggs, no matter who it is, ask him--
or them--to come right in here. I'll--I'll wait a few minutes. Hurry
along, please." Resuming his address he beamed upon the row of
wriggling children. "We have before us eleven little ladies and
gentlemen, all eager for the Christmas dawn. See the stockings? To-
morrow morning you will find that Santy has filled them to the top.
Next year Santy will come provided with gifts for twelve, an even
dozen. How many are eleven and one, Reginald? Speak up. Eleven and
one. Good! That's right, my lad. The year after he will bring gifts
for fourteen. We shall avoid the unlucky number thirteen. Remember,
children, that next Christmas you are to have a little brother. You--"

"I want a sister," shouted Wilberforce.

"Sh!" said four nurses at once.

"As for you, my faithful servitors, it will not be necessary for you
to hang up your little stockings. Santy will find a way to--What is
it, Diggs?"