Mr. Bingle Part 25

"I shall never love any one else, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick solemnly. "I shall never be untrue to her."

"Well, it's fine of you to take it in such a manly fashion, old chap.

It's great. Not many fellows could have done what you've done. I'm sure I couldn't. It took grit to come out here and tell me this. Shake hands again, my boy. And I now promise that I shall keep her happy if it lies in the power of a human being to do so. You may depend upon it, Freddie."

"Thank you, Mr. Flanders. I have great confidence in you. I trust you.

If you should ever require the support of a strong and willing henchman in time of dire trouble or conflict with merciless--merciless--" He stopped in distress. Once more Melissa's well-turned sentences went back on him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the all-important noun.

"Scoundrels," supplied Mr. Flanders kindly.

"No, that isn't the word," said Frederick, thinking hard.

"Merciless--merciless--Oh, yes--renegades! If you should ever require the support of a strong and--"

"All right," cried Flanders. "I understand. I'll call on you, you may be sure."

"There was something more I wanted to say, but the--the words don't seem to come as they ought to."

"It's this beastly weather," said Flanders. "I never can think well in cold weather. I seem to freeze up."

Frederick was relieved. "I guess maybe that's it. When are you going to marry her?" The last was a genuine, unrehea.r.s.ed inquiry and completely summed up the situation so far as he was concerned.

"It isn't quite settled. A great deal depends on circ.u.mstances."

"Money?"

"In a way, yes."

"What does she say about it? Is she willing to wait eight or ten years for you?"

"She says she will wait forever," said Flanders, a bit puzzled by the new turn.

"Well, that's all right, then," said Frederick and to Richard's amazement he squared his shoulders and heaved a long sigh, as of relief. "Excuse me, please, I've got to hustle. Melissa--" He stopped in painful confusion. It had been on the tip of his ingenuous tongue to blurt out something that would have spoiled all that had gone before.

It had to do with Melissa's present whereabouts and her oft-repeated claim that if Flanders kept Miss Fairweather waiting long enough he'd lose her, sure as a shot!

An amazing thing happened to Frederick that evening, just before bedtime. Miss Fairweather kissed him sweetly, not once but thrice, full on the lips, and told him that he was the nicest little boy in all the world.

CHAPTER XII

THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON

Mr. Bingle saw Monsieur Rouquin again. The excellent manager of the foreign exchange a.s.sured the vice-president that he could now guarantee to procure the most adorable of French infants at a moment's notice, an infant that he could personally recommend in every particular.

"Sir," said Monsieur Rouquin, "it is impossible to imagine a more perfect child, let alone to create one. I have seen thousands, millions of babies, M'sieur Bangle, but not one so--"

"Bingle," corrected the vice-president.

"It is my abominable, unpardonable dialect," deplored Rouquin, who spoke English without a flaw. "Millions of babes have I seen, but not one so wonderful as this one. It is a--ah--it is a perfect specimen of--"

"You say 'it,' Rouquin. Am I to understand that its gender is unknown to you?"

"No, no!" cried Rouquin. "To be sure I know the s.e.x of this adorable infant. I know the parents--"

"What is it? A boy or a girl?"

Rouquin closed an eye slowly. "Ah, M'sieur Bang--Bingle, may I not leave the question of s.e.x to the child itself? What could be more beautiful than to present to your notice a perfect example of humanity, without uttering a single word to aid you in your speculation as to the gender, and then to sit calmly back and relish the joy you will reveal when you find that you have guessed correctly the very first time, as the boys would say? That would be the magnificent compensation to me.

You will need but one glance at this wonderful specimen. One glance will be sufficient. You will instantly exclaim: 'What a monstrous fine boy--or girl!' as the case may be. Ah, sir--"

"I must have a boy," said Mr. Bingle.

Monsieur Rouquin looked relieved. He permitted a roguish light to steal into his eyes. "I still implore you to keep your mind open, Mr. Bingle, until you have seen the child I have in mind. Permit me this little, silly, boyish pleasure, sir--the pleasure of hearing you exclaim--out of a clear sky, so to say--'Ah, what a monstrous fine--'"

"All right, Rouquin," broke in Mr. Bingle. "Only I warn you that if it isn't a boy, it will be a case of love's labour lost on your part."

"M'sieur, I beg your pardon," said Rouquin, a trifle stiffly. "Does M'sieur mean to imply--to insinuate that--"

"Nothing of the kind," said Mr. Bingle hastily. "It's a saying of Shakespeare, Rouquin. Of course, love's labour is never really lost.

It's a figure of speech."

"Ah!" said Monsieur Rouquin, smiting himself on the forehead. "I should have known. Have I no brain? Listen! I tap my head. Does it not give out a hollow sound, as if entirely empty? Say yes, my dear sir. I shall not be offended. To have misinterpreted the polite--Ah, but, it is of no consequence. Pray proceed, sir." "Proceed?" muttered Mr. Bingle, frowning. "There's nothing more to the quotation, Rouquin, so far as I know. Merely 'love's labour lost,' no more. But I would like to ask a question or two. Are the parents of this child quite respectable people?" Rouquin rolled his eyes upward. "Utterly," he said, with deep feeling in his voice.

"Healthy?"

"Parfaitment!"

"What does that mean?"

"Perfectly, my dear Mr. Bingle."

"Oh! And are they married?"

"Mon dieu!" cried Rouquin, turning scarlet. "Absolutely, sir--incontestably."

"I mean, to each other."

"Monsieur jests," was all that Rouquin could say. He wiped his brow, however.

"Well, when may we see the child? When can we talk it over with the parents?"

"That is for you to say, sir."

"To-morrow afternoon?"

"I shall so arrange it, sir. Will not you and Madame Bang--Bingle honour me with your presence at a little tea-room--quite an excellent and refined place that I know of--before we go to inspect the child? It will give me the greatest pleasure if--"

"See here, Rouquin, that's most kind of you, but I'd prefer to have you take tea with Mrs. Bingle and me. Do you know of a nice, but thoroughly typical French restaurant where we could--er--get a bit of the atmosphere, don't you know? We are figuring on taking a trip to Paris soon and we'd like to--well, you know what I mean? Quiet, respectable place, you know. Nothing rowdyish."