depressing figure indeed. His gloomy eyes had no reflected glow in
them; his long, stooped frame suggested nothing so much as a weather-
worn scare-crow about which a thousand storms had thrashed. There was
no joy in his soul.

"Yes," he said, as if they had disputed him without reason, "you ought
to be thankful you have no children. What you can see in this
tomfoolery about Christmas Eve is beyond me. Better save your money
for something worth while, that's what I say. Something worth while."

"Well, WHAT, for instance?" demanded Mr. Bingle, suddenly irritated
beyond control.

"Confound you, Tom, do you forget that you owe Dr. Fiddler more than
two hundred dollars?" snapped Uncle Joe, turning on him.

"Oh, I will pay him--I will pay him all right, never fear," replied
Mr. Bingle, shrinking.

Old Joseph Hooper regarded him keenly for a long time before speaking
again. His voice softened and his manner underwent a swift change.

"Tom Bingle, you are the best man living to-day," he said, a strange
huskiness in his voice. "If you were not as good as gold you would
kick me out and--and--"

"Kick you out, Uncle Joe!" cried Mr. Bingle, coming to his feet and
laying his hand on the bent shoulder. "God bless you, sir, I--I--I
ought to kick you out for SAYING such a thing!"