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Updated: June 14, 2025
To them we will drink a toast of good will and better luck next time, and they may drink to you, madame and sir, the health of one grand Napoleon Bingle, in whose past they both shared but whose future can only be a " "Oh, I say, Rouquin," broke in Monsieur Jean languidly, "why not make it 'many happy returns of the day'? That's the real issue."
It was left that they were to visit the infant and its utterly respectable parents at four on the following afternoon. Rouquin had already assured Mr. Bingle that only the direst necessity made it possible for the wretched father and mother to even THINK of giving up their greatest treasure, this marvellous infant.
We'll have a boy if you like. In a pinch, we can always change the gender at the last minute. Let's not give it another thought. I'll take it up with Rouquin the first time I'm in town. As for Swanson's sister's child well, never mind. We sha'n't have it. He says its name is Ole at present but I suppose it could be called Richelieu if taken in time. Still that's neither here nor there.
"I suppose I'm to have two guesses," said Mr. Single, with a chuckle. "Certainly," said Rouquin. "Provided your first guess is wrong." Stealthily the group entered the bedroom of Monsieur Rouquin. The window shades were down. The room was quite dark. On the bed was a dimly distinguishable heap.
Shall we return to the other room? Naturally there are a great many questions to be asked and answered. Rouquin, will you oblige me by getting a pad of paper and taking down all of the er statistics?" It developed that Napoleon Rousseau, now sitting bolt upright in Mrs.
Good luck. See, it is signed 'Pierre. Pierre he is my brother. He lives in Paris. Ah, so long have I waited! You may never know my despair never, M'sieur. But my wife she has died, so all is well. The day before yesterday I was married. I take " "For heaven's sake, Rouquin," gasped Mr. Bingle; "not so fast! I don't know what you are talking about."
"I shall see to it that he is taken away from you before he is a week older," cried Rouquin angrily. "You cannot expect me to leave that helpless child " "What have you got to do with it, Rouquin?" demanded Mr. Bingle sharply. "I am his mother's friend. I promised her that he should have a fine home. I swore to her that he should never know want or hardship or "
Bingle without the slighest trace of shame or embarrassment. "Well, Mr. Bingle, I have married her," he said shrugging his shoulders in a manner that might have signified either extreme satisfaction with himself or lamentation over the inevitable. "The day before yesterday. I am now a proud and happy father, old friend." "Father?" murmured Mr. Bingle, bewildered. "You mean bridegroom, Rouquin."
We can afford to overlook the fact that Napoleon was a Corsican and not a real Frenchman. We can " "Just as we must overlook the fact that little Napoleon is a Rousseau and not a Bingle," said Mr. Bingle drily. "Quite so, quite so," agreed Rouquin hastily.
Monsieur Rouquin being of a mind to dismiss the presumptuous domestic, Mrs. Bingle blandly declared that, if her references were all as good as the one Madame Rousseau was giving her, she wouldn't hesitate for an instant to engage her to look after the child in case it joined the Bingle collection.
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