MR. BINGLE

By George Barr McCutcheon





CONTENTS

CHAPTER I — THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES

CHAPTER II — RELATING TO AN ODD RELATION

CHAPTER III — THE DEATH OF UNCLE JOE

CHAPTER IV — FORTY MINUTES LATE

CHAPTER V — THE STORY OF JOSEPH

CHAPTER VI — THE HONOURABLE THOMAS SINGLETON BINGLE

CHAPTER VII — SEARCHERS REWARDED

CHAPTER VIII — THE AFFAIRS OF AMY AND DICK

CHAPTER IX — THE MAN CALLED HINMAN

CHAPTER X — MR. BINGLE THINKS OF BECOMING AN ANGEL

CHAPTER XI — A TIMELY LESSON IN LOVE

CHAPTER XII — THE BIRTH OF NAPOLEON

CHAPTER XIII — TROUBLE, TROUBLE, TROUBLE!

CHAPTER XIV — THE LAW'S LAST WORD

CHAPTER XV — DECEMBER

CHAPTER XVI — ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE

CHAPTER XVII — THE LAST TO ARRIVE








CHAPTER I — THE FIVE LITTLE SYKESES

A coal fire crackled cheerily in the little open grate that supplied warmth to the steam-heated living-room in the modest apartment of Mr. Thomas S. Bingle, lower New York, somewhere to the west of Fifth Avenue and not far removed from Washington Square—in the wrong direction, however, if one must be precise in the matter of emphasizing the social independence of the Bingle family—and be it here recorded that without the genial aid of that grate of coals the living-room would have been a cheerless place indeed. Mr. Bingle had spent most of the evening in trying to coax heat from the lower regions into the pipes of the seventh heaven wherein he dwelt, and without the slightest sign of success. The frigid coils in the corner of the room remained obdurate. If they indicated the slightest symptom of warmth during the evening, it was due entirely to the expansive generosity of the humble grate and not because they were moved by inward remorse. They were able, however, to supply the odour of far-off steam, as of an abandoned laundry; and sometimes they chortled meanly, revealing signs of an energy that in anything but a steam pipe might have been mistaken for a promise to do better.

Mr. Bingle poked the fire and looked at his watch. Then he crossed to the window, drew the curtains and shade aside and tried to peer through the frosty panes into the street, seven stories below. A holly wreath hung suspended in the window, completely obscured from view on one side by hoar frost, on

...

BU KİTABI OKUMAK İÇİN ÜYE OLUN VEYA GİRİŞ YAPIN!


Sitemize Üyelik ÜCRETSİZDİR!