A Christmas Carol--Movie Style

[Esmeralda]

This was written a few years ago along with my good friend, Vicki, who goes by the name of JustVic and who lives in the apartment above mine. Vicki totally loves Christmas, especially Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. She has a number of different movie versions of the story and one day we started discussing which parts of each move we liked best--which Bob, which Ebenezer, which Belle, etc.--and that inspired this story. Each night, we'd watch the same part of the story on each movie and Vicki would decide which one she liked best, and then I'd fit it into our tale, and then she'd get to edit it. Here's what we came up with. Enjoy!!

DISCLAIMER

This fic is based on movies that include Ebenezer Scrooge played by the following:

Alastair Sims
George C Scott
Albert Finney
Patrick Stewart
Vanessa Williams (playing Ebony Scrooge)
Michael Caine (with Bob Cratchit played by Kermit D Frogg!)
Scrooge McDuck (with Bob Cratchit played by Mickey Mouse!)
Mr. Magoo
Fred Flintstone

and includes direct lines from those fantastic movies.

This story was written just for fun and the enjoyment of the members of this site. No infringement of any rights are intended.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL--MOVIE-STYLE

Based on the wonderful story by the incomparable Charles Dickens

Freely Adapted by Es and JustVic

Old Jacob Marley was dead, as dead as a doornail. This must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am about to relate. The registry was signed by his partner, Ebenezer Scrooge, and Scrooge’s name was good on the Exchange for anything he chose to put his hand to, so Jacob Marley was certainly dead.

Marley died on Christmas Eve. Scrooge never cared for Christmas to begin with, considering it a total waste of his time, and now, seven years after his partner’s death, he cared for it even less. Now he was a shrewd money-lender who charged people a fortune to live or work in cold dark buildings and then threw them out into the cold when they could not pay, never giving them a second thought. But Scrooge liked the cold. He was hard and sharp as a flint, secretive and self-contained. as solitary as an oyster. If awards were given out for the meanest man in the city, the award would most certainly go to him. He believed that there was only one good thing to be said for the season--people spent so much time, preparing feasts, giving parties, spending the mortgage money on frivolities, that one might say December was the foreclosure season, harvest time for money-lenders.

Now on this Christmas Eve, old Scrooge sat at his desk, counting his money and preparing to go out and collect rent, when he caught his clerk, Bob Cratchit, sneaking towards the coal bin, which Scrooge miserly kept in the relative warmth of his own office.

“CRATCHIT!” he bellowed. “You have your coal for the day and there will be no more!”

“Begging your pardon, sir, I simply thought, sir, since it is Christmas Eve, sir—“

“Since it is Christmas Eve, this would be a disastrous time for you, Cratchit, to find yourself without a position!”

“Oh, yes, sir! You are absolutely right, sir! Forgive me, sir!” and Cratchit slowly began to return to the so-cold outer office.

”And do not forget it! If you would spend more time tending to your job, you would not have time to feel the cold!” Then Scrooge returned to his counting, muttering, “Oh, blasted help situation! Next thing you know, they will want a featherbed and tea service! Now where was I?”

But before Scrooge could count another coin, who should walk in, but a handsome young man, smiling broadly, eyes twinkling. "A Merry Christmas to you, Uncle! God save you!" It was Scrooge's nephew, Fred Holywell, his only living relative.

"Christmas? Bah, humbug! What reason have you to be so merry? You are poor enough!"

"Come, then. What reason have you to be so miserable? You are rich enough."

"Bah, humbug! What is Christmastime to you but a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer? If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart!" and Scrooge rubbed his hands and cackled as he said it. "Much good has it ever done you, Nephew!"

"There are many good things from which I have not made money, including Christmas, but I am sure I have always thought of Christmas as a good time. Apart from its sacred name, it is a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time--when people seem to open up their shut-up hearts freely. Therefore, Uncle, though it has never put an ounce of gold in my pocket, I believe that Christmas has done me good and will do me good, so I say, 'God bless it!' "

During this speech, Bob Cratchit had risen from his stool and came to the doorway of the office, clearly touched by Fred's words. "Here! Here!"

"CRATCHIT! We will see how much you enjoy Christmas in the unemployment line!"

"Yes, sir!" and Bob ran back to his desk.

"Why be angry at Bob, Uncle? It is I who raised your ire, and it is only because you agree with me that Christmas has certainly done me no harm."

"No, your wayward nature has done that. That and your marriage."

"My marriage was the making of me."

"Your ruin, you mean."

"Why do you not come and see for yourself, if you do not believe me? Come, Uncle, dine with Janet and me tomorrow night."

"No, thank you."

"Why not?"

"Why did you marry against my wishes?"

"Why? Why, because I fell in love."

"Love? Bah, humbug! That is the only thing worse than Christmas! And you marry a woman as penniless as yourself, also against my wishes. Good afternoon!"

"But you never came to see me before my marriage, why give it as a reason now? I ask nothing of you. Why can we not be friends?"

"Leave, sir, at once! You keep Christmas in your way and let me keep it in mine!"

"But you do not keep it!"

"Then let me leave it alone! Good afternoon!"

"Merry Christmas, Uncle!"

Scrooge's face grew red as he yelled, "Good afternoon!"

Fred laughed. "And a Happy New Year!"

Even as Scrooge roared, "HUMBUG!", Fred ducked into
the outer office, where Bob Cratchit attempted to stay warm by keeping his hands near the candle.

"A Merry Christmas to you, Mister Fred, and to your lady."

"And a Merry Christmas to you, Bob. How is your lady and all of the assorted little Cratchits?"

"Well, sir, very well."

"Chomping at the bit for Christmas to begin, eh?"

"Oh, yes, sir, very eager, sir."

"And how is the little lame one? What is his name?"

"Tim, sir."

"Yes, that is right. And how is he?"

"We are in high hopes that he is getting much better, sir."

"Good. Well, a very Merry Christmas to them all!"

"Thank you, sir, thank you very much, sir. A Merry Christmas to you and your lady, sir, I am sure."

As they spoke, Scrooge muttered to himself, "There is another fellow, my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week and a wife and family and talking about Merry Christmas!" and he shook his head in disbelief, as he began counting his money again.

But again the door opened, this time to let in two gentlemen, one tall and thin with a bright red scarf wrapped around his neck, the other short and portly. "Scrooge and Marley, I assume. Do we have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley?" asked the portly gentleman.

"Who are you?" Scrooge demanded from his office.

"We are from the Victoria Charity Association. We would like to talk with you about a donation."

"Charity!" cried Fred, winking at Bob. "Welcome! That jolly old gentleman in the inner office is Mr. Scrooge. He is very generous with charities."

"NEPHEW!" roared Scrooge in outrage.

The two gentlemen approached Scrooge's desk with Fred following them, the portly gentleman beginning, "At this festive time of the year, Mr. Scrooge, it is more than usually desirable that we should help the poor."

"Why?"

"It is at Christmastime that want is most keenly felt and abundance enjoyed."

"Are there no prisons?" Scrooge wanted to know.

"Plenty of prisons," replied the portly gentleman, as the tall one frowned.

"Are the workhouses still in operation? And the treadmill and Poor Law?"

"They are," the portly gentleman replied as the tall one's frown grew. "Still, I wish I could say they are not." and the tall one nodded frantically.

Scrooge smiled a smile that had no joy in it. "Oh, I was afraid from what you had said before that something had happened to stop them in their useful course."

The portly gentleman took out a pen and a small book with a flourish as he explained to Scrooge, "A few of us are trying to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. What shall we put you down for?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, you wish to remain anonymous?"

"NO! I WISH TO BE LEFT ALONE! I do not keep Christmas merry myself--"

Fred grinned. "That is certainly true."

"--and I can not afford to give to make others merry."

"That is certainly not true."

Scrooge turned away from the two gentleman to glare at Fred. "Do you not have somewhere else to go, my dear nephew?"

"Sadly I do, so I shall make my donation," and he dropped some coins into the cup the taller man held, and both men cried out their thanks. "And leave you to make yours!" and tipping his cap to Bob, Fred left.

Scrooge attempted to go back to his counting. The two gentlemen waited for a few minutes, then the taller one made a noise. When Scrooge looked up, the portly one asked, "About the donation, sir?"

"I know how to treat the poor. My taxes pay for the establishments I mentioned and those who are badly off must go there."

The taller man shook his finger at Scrooge, while the portly man looked totally scandalized. "Many can not go there; many would rather die."

"If they would rather die, they had better do it and decrease the surplus population. Besides, it is not my business."

"Is it not, sir?" the portly one asked.

"No, it is enough for me to mind my own business rather than minding others. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, sirs!" and shaking their heads, the two gentlemen departed, leaving Scrooge to return to his counting.

As they left, Bob Cratchit looked up at the clock. It was only five o'clock; he still had two hours to go. He knew that around this time, his dear wife, Emily, would be going out to buy the goose that would be the family's Christmas feast. He desperately wished he could afford to buy them a turkey, especially since all of the children had been so very good all year long, but he knew he could not, although he swore to himself that some day he would.

He also knew that after Emily bartered the price down as far as she could, she would go out and go to the toy shop which was right next to the butcher shop.

There, their youngest son, Tiny Tim, would be leaning on his crutch, staring at all the toys. Bob also wished he could buy at least one of those beautiful toys for each of his five children, especially one for Tiny Tim, who was so very sick, but he also knew that was not to be, but again he swore that someday he would.

Then he smiled. Deep in his heart, he knew that even without a turkey or presents beneath the tree, his family would have a glorious Christmas, because unlike Scrooge, they would share it together.

Sure enough, at that exact moment, Emily Cratchit bustled up to their youngest child. "Come along, Tiny Tim, my dear. There, did you have a lovely time looking at all the wonderful things?"

"Yes, thank you, Mama."

Emily looked through the window. "Well, my little love, which one do you like best, eh?"

"All of them!" cried Tiny Tim in delight.

"Good boy! But why not just one in particular?"

"Well, you told me that I can have none of them, so why not like all of them?"

Emily smiled. "Tiny Tim, my dear, you are a philosopher and a gentleman. Now let us get ourselves home. This goose will not pluck itself!"

As they began to walk, Tiny Tim asked, "Did you get a big goose, Mama?"

Emily smiled. "The biggest goose you ever did see. As big as you and as fat as a beanpole. Just wait until your father sees it. His eyes will pop right out of his head, and he will forget all about that horrid old Mr. Scrooge."

Tiny Tim laughed, but then he had to pause, laboring to catch his breath. His mother watched him anxiously. "You are not feeling too tired, are you, dear?"

"Oh, no, not a bit, Mama."

Emily smiled sadly, knowing better. "If your father was here, he would carry you home on his shoulder."

"I love having a ride on his shoulder."

"And he loves giving you that ride, but that old Mr. Scrooge will keep him working in that cold, dark office all the way until 7:00, Christmas Eve or no Christmas Eve, the old miser."

Meanwhile, the husband of one and the father of the other continued to work, writing up the foreclosure notices that were to go out the next day, dreading the idea of those people being thrown out of their homes on Christmas Day. But he knew from past Christmases that it was better not to complain. The one time he had reminded Mr. Scrooge that it was Christmas, Mr. Scrooge told him that very well, he could gift-wrap the notices. Bob still shuddered to think about it.

Finally the bell tolled seven. Bob hopped off his stool and went into Mr. Scrooge's office. "Excuse me, sir, but it is seven o'clock, sir."

Mr. Scrooge continued to work, waiting until the bell finished tolling seven times before looking up. "Correct, Cratchit."

"Uh, I do not wish to be impertinent, Mr. Scrooge, sir, but would it be too much of a bother for me to have my wages, sir?"

"The trouble with you, Cratchit," Mr. Scrooge groused as he rose from his chair, "is that you only think of pleasure. Pleasure and squandering money."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Scrooge walked over to a wall, where he took down a painting, revealing a safe. Twirling the knob, making sure that his body blocked Bob's view, he opened the safe. In the safe there were many drawers, each with their own lock. Taking a ring of keys from his inner pocket, he carefully chose one and used it to unlock one of the drawers. He opened it and reached in to bring out a small bag. Closing and re-locking all of the doors, he brought the bag over to Bob, opened it and slowly began counting out fifteen shillings, finding it hard to release each one, muttering as he did.

Once Bob had the coins in his hands, he then reminded his master, "I have a holiday, tomorrow, sir."

Mr. Scrooge glared at him. "I suppose you will want the whole day off?"

"If qu..qu..quite convenient, sir," stammered Bob.

"It is not convenient, sir," Scrooge growled, "and it is not fair. If I were to hold back a half-a-crown for it, you would feel yourself ill-used. And yet, you do not feel me ill-used, when I pay for no work."

"It is only once a year, sir."

"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December! Be here all the earlier next morning!"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! A Merry Christmas, Mr. Scrooge, sir!"

"Take your infernal Merry Christmas and be gone from here!"

"Yes, sir, begging your pardon, Mr. Scrooge, I only meant--Good night, sir!" Bob grabbed his coat and his hat and his scarf and ran off, Mr. Scrooge's "Bah, humbug!" still ringing in his ears.

To be continued if there's any interest.

[Esmeralda]

No one replied but due to all of the views and just because I enjoy re-reading this, I'm going to post some more anyway. After all--I'm not a Scrooge! Enjoy!

As he passed through Camden town, Bob came to a grocer, where various customers grumbled about the quality and the prices of the fruits and vegetables. Not Bob; he was very happy to be given a dozen not-quite-ripe apples for a shilling.

Next he came to a spirits shop, where some well-dressed people came out with their bottles of port and champagne, grumbling about the prices that were charged. Not Bob; he was happy to pay another shilling for a small bottle of toddy, which Emily would use to make her famous Christmas pudding.

As he hurried on, he passed a puppet stage, where Punch and Judy dueled. He stood with the small children, laughing with delight.

His last stop was the very toy shop that had caught Tiny Tim's attention. But rather than bringing out those magnificent toys wrapped in beautiful wrap and tied with satin ribbons, Bob found a man dressed as Father Christmas standing outside the store. In his bag were small boxes, wrapped in brown paper, tied with string. "How many for a shilling?" Bob asked.

"Normally three, but you have five children, Bob, so I will make it five for a shilling!"

"Oh, thank you very much! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Bob!" and Bob Cratchit hurried on his way home to his warm waiting hearth and his warm, waiting, loving family.

Meanwhile, old Ebenezer Scrooge had finally finished closing up his shop, including locking up all of his money and all of the books in the various drawers in his safe. Putting on his tattered coat, wrapping his old scarf around his neck and putting his one treasure--a mink hat, given to him by his old partner, Jacob Marley--upon his head, he opened the door of his business.

There stood a small group of ragged children, singing Christmas carols, holding out tin cups. Scrooge growled then yelled, waving his cane. "Begone, you beggars!"

The children ran, but the youngest one remained, looking up at Scrooge with begging eyes.

"Do you not understand the King's English?" Scrooge demanded. "Begone!" and the young urchin ran after his friends.

"Nothing to eat and still they sing about Christmas! Bah, humbug!" and Scrooge made his own way home. As he did, he also stopped at each of the places Bob had visited. But rather than buying, Scrooge was demanding rent from each owner. No one could pay and each asked for mercy on Christmas, infuriating Scrooge more each time, as he demanded an even higher price on the morn, or he would certainly throw them out of their establishments and take over the ownership himself!

Finally Scrooge found himself at his usual tavern where he ate his usual lonely meal, complaining about the quality of the cheap meal as he always did, before finally walking towards home.

Scrooge lived in chambers which had once belonged to his old business partner, Jacob Marley. The building was a dismal heap of brick on a dark street. When he turned onto the street, he heard a "Hey!" and suddenly his prized mink hat flew off his head, landing in a nearby mud puddle. When he retrieved it, he was aghast to discovered that it was totally ruined. Next to the puddle laid the snowball that had hit his hat.

Spinning on his heels, he saw the three children who had sung in front of his door. "Hey! You ruined my hat!" and noticing a strolling constable, he cried out, "Constable! Those children ruined my hat!"

The two older children fled, but the youngest one stood, frozen in fear, still holding a snowball.

The constable walked over, picked him up by the scruff of the neck and brought him back to Scrooge, saying, "You have a lot of explaining to do, lad!"

"But it was an accident, sir! We were just having a bit of fun!"

"That hat was made of rare mink," Scrooge accused, "and now it is ruined!"

"I can arrest the boy, but he would be thrown in the workhouse."

Scrooge stared at the boy, then told the constable. "I have a better idea. Bring him along."

When they reached the old house, Scrooge waded through the deep snow that filled the sidewalk. Grabbing a shovel that leaned against the house, he brought it back to the boy and the constable. "You want snow, boy, I will give you snow. Here. Shovel my walk!"

"But, sir! It's Christmas Eve! I'll miss Father Christmas!"

"Christmas! Bah, humbug! If you do not wish to spend Christmas in the workhouse, get shoveling!"

The boy looked at Scrooge, then at the constable, who crossed his arms and nodded. The boy sighed miserably and began shoveling, muttering, "This is worse than the bloomin' workhouse!"

Scrooge watched for a few minutes, making sure that the boy shoveled all the way down to the walk, then once more waded towards his house.

Now once again, I must ask you to remember that Jacob Marley was dead, decaying in his grave, or nothing that follows will seem wondrous.

As Scrooge approached the door, he could have sworn that he heard someone call his name. He looked around, but saw no one but the boy, who certainly did not know his name.

"Humbug!" he declared, as he took out his key. But as he prepared to unlock the door, suddenly the knocker, which was not unusual, but merely large, became the face of his old partner, Jacob Marley! "Scroo-oo-oo-ooge!" moaned the face.

Scrooge looked, then looked again. "No, this can not be!" He shook his head and blinked his eyes and when he looked again, the knocker was merely a knocker once again. "This is strange. Very strange. Could it be that I need spectacles? Humbug!"

To say that Scrooge was startled would be untrue, but yet, the moment had passed, and the world was as it should be. He entered the house and made his way up the staircase, caring not a button for the darkness. Darkness was cheap and Scrooge liked it.

But the incident at the door made Scrooge wary. Before he shut himself in for the night, he searched his rooms. To conduct a proper search, Scrooge was forced to light lamps. As he searched around, he could have sworn he heard something behind him, so he spun around, knocking it down and beating it with his cane.

But when he looked at his attacker, he was abashed to discover that it was only his best dressing gown that had been hung on a coat tree.

Deciding that there was no harm done and he was indeed alone, he entered his bedchambers, making sure he double-locked the door, something he did not normally do.

Later, as Scrooge prepared to go to bed, dressed in his dressing-gown, cap and slippers, he sat by his fire, eating his gruel. Suddenly again Jacob's face appeared, this time in the fire. "What! I do need spectacles! No, it must be this gruel. Sour! Very sour. That is what it must be."

So he set the bowl aside, yawning hugely. "Sleep, that is what I need."

But as he stood up, suddenly he heard something very, very strange. It sounded like very heavy footsteps, climbing the stairs, followed by the shaking of chains. Scrooge shook in fear. "Oh, dear, what sort of nonsense is this?" The noise kept getting louder and growing closer. "Rats?" he wondered, but if they were, they were very, very large rats!

But the figure that walked directly through the locked door was not a rat, nor was it just a face, this time it was the entire figure of Jacob Marley, Scrooge's old partner, looking exactly as he did in life, except he was transparent and he was wrapped in a chain, a long chain wrapped around his ghostly form like a tail. It was made of cash boxes, keys, padlocks, deeds and heavy steel purses.

"Ebenezer?" demanded the Ghost. "Ebenezer Scrooge?"

"Do you not believe in knocking?"

"Would you have unbolted the door to let me enter, Ebenezer?"

"What are you or rather who are you?"

"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley!"

"Humbug!"

"Do you not believe in me?"

"I do not!"

"Still, you must admit that you see me. Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes one’s senses cheat. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato or that miserable gruel I just ate. There is more of gravy about you than the grave!"

At that the Ghost raised his head right off his neck, raising such a frightening moan and rattling his chain so loudly that Scrooge fell to his knees and clasped his hands in front of his face. "Oh, mercy! Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"

"Do you believe in me or not?" demanded the Ghost.

"Yes, yes, Jacob, I believe in you; I do! But tell me why you walk the Earth, and why do you trouble me?"

Again the Ghost moaned and shook his chains.

"You are bound by chains!" cried Scrooge, noticing them for the first time. "Tell me why."

"I wear the chains I forged in life." Now he walked directly to Scrooge, shaking his chains with each step. "I made it link by link , and yard by yard, and of my own free will I wore it. Does it look strange to you, Ebenezer? Oh, would you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself! It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have labored on it, since. It is a ponderous chain, Ebenezer, a ponderous chain!"

Scrooge actually checked, but he could see no chains wrapped around him, but Jacob's words had frightened him. "Jacob!" Scrooge begged. "Speak comfort to me!"

"I have none to give. I cannot rest; I cannot stay; I cannot linger anywhere. In life my spirit never left the narrow limits of our counting-house. Weary journeys lie before me to make amends for wasting the chance to help others. Such was I! Oh, such was I!"

"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob!"

"BUSINESS!" roared the Ghost. "MANKIND WAS MY BUSINESS! The common welfare, charity, mercy, were all my business! Hear me! My time is nearly gone. I am here to warn you that you still have a chance of escaping my fate."

Scrooge smiled. "Thank you, Jacob. You were always a good friend to me."

"You will be haunted by three Spirits."

The smile vanished. "I would really rather not."

But the Ghost did not listen to him. "Expect the first tomorrow when the clock tolls one; the second on the next night at the two and the third the next night on the last stroke of twelve."

"Can I not have all three at once and get it over with?"

"Expect the first at one!" and the Ghost flew out the window. "Expect to see me no more!"

Hearing his moans, Scrooge ran to the window. The air was filled with moaning, flying phantoms, all of them bound with chains.

Scrooge slammed the window, leaving him once again alone in his room. "Humbug! Sleep is what I need! It has been a long day," and leaping onto bed and pulling the bedcurtains around him, he shook himself to sleep.

[Esmeralda]

But no sooner did Scrooge close his eyes than the clock from the nearby church tolled one, although he could have sworn that it was actually much earlier. Remembering what the Ghost had told him, he opened his eyes, but the room was so dark that he could not see at all.

"Bah, humbug!"

But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than a bright light suddenly shone just outside his bedcurtains. Slowly opening them and looking out, he saw another strange apparition. It was a strange child-like creature, but more like an old man the size of a child with long white hair flowing down his shoulders, but his face had no wrinkles. He held a cap in one hand and a holly branch in the other. The bright light was shining from the top of his head. It was so bright, that Scrooge had to put his hand up and shield his eyes.

"Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?"

"I am."

"Who are you? What are you?"

"I am the Spirit of Christmas Past."

"Long past?"

"No!" and the Spirit pointed directly at him. "Your past."

"Spirit, put on your cap. Be covered."

"What, would you so soon cover the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those who made this cap and forced me to wear it low upon my brow?"

"I have no intention of offending you, sir, but I can barely see you."

"Very well," and the Spirit put on his cap and the light dimmed enough so Scrooge could put down his hand.

"Thank you. What business brings you here?"

"Your welfare."

"Well, I am much obliged, but an unbroken night of sleep is what I need if you are so concerned," as he threw the covers over his head.

The Spirit grabbed the covers and threw them aside. "Your redemption, then. Come. Walk with me."

"Humbug! Forcing a man out of his bed in the middle of the night!"

Now the Spirit stood on the windowsill. "Come! Rise and walk with me!"

So Scrooge walked to the window, shivering with cold. "Not a stitch of decent clothes to warm these old bones!" Then he looked down the two stories. "But, Spirit, I am mortal and apt to fall!"

"Touch but my hand and you shall be upheld in more than this."

So Scrooge touched the hand of the Spirit and he was indeed lifted and drawn out the window. A thick fog enveloped them and Scrooge felt as if he were flying. The Spirit waved his holly branch and the fog began to dissolve, leaving the two standing by a road, a very familiar road.

"Do you know this place?" the Spirit wanted to know.

"Know it?" cried Scrooge. "I was a boy here."

"Do you remember the way?"

"Remember it? I could walk it blind-fold!" and Scrooge ran down the road towards a nearby town.

Suddenly a wagon came by, filled with boys singing Christmas carols merrily.

"I know those boys! We went to the same school! Look! That is Daniel Custerson and Robert Estes. Hello, Daniel! And the big one there, that is David Tyler. Hey, David! Look here! It is Ebenezer." Not one boy responded. "Spirit! Why do they not answer?"

"These are but the shadows of things that have been. They have no consciousness of us."

"They are all so happy. They are all going home for the Christmas holiday."

"Not quite all. Come, Ebenezer Scrooge." The Spirit waved his holly branch and again the fog enveloped them only to evaporate to reveal an old building. Scrooge became conscious of a thousand odors, each one connected with a thousand thoughts and hopes and joys and cares, long, long forgotten.

"Your old school."

"I remember."

"There is a boy in there, neglected," and as he waved his holly branch, the fog enveloped them, and suddenly they were inside a large room, filled with tables, empty except for one, lone, solitary boy, standing at the window, watching as the other children left, wiping a tear from his eye. "Do you know this boy?"

"Yes. It is young Ebenezer Scrooge. Poor, lonely, forgotten boy!"

"Why has he been deserted by his family and his friends?"

"Oh, he has his friends, even on this day..." Scrooge replied, even as young Ebenezer walked away from the window and picked up a book and began to read. ...from his beloved books." And Scrooge sat on the boy's desk. “Ali Baba. Dear old honest Ali Baba. And the sultan's groom turned upside down by a genie."

"But not a real child to talk to. Not a real, living person."

"Robinson Crusoe not a living person?" and Scrooge cackled, making the noise that for him was a laugh. "And Friday? And the parrot? And Greenboy and Yellowtail not real? He made do, this boy."

"Why is this boy not going home to his family?"

"His mother is dead, and his father holds him a grudge."

"Why does his father hold him a grudge?"

"She died in childbirth--his birth."

"Weep for the boy--if the tears will come. Come. Let us see another Christmas."

The Spirit waved his holly branch, and again the fog enveloped them. As it faded, they again saw young Ebenezer, older now, almost a man, this time staring out the window and now pacing back and forth. Scrooge looked anxiously at the door. Suddenly it flew wide open and a young woman ran through. "Ebenezer! Oh, Ebbie!" and she ran right through Scrooge and into the arms of young Ebenezer.

"Fan!" cried Ebenezer. "Oh, little Fan!"

"Oh, Fan!" cried Scrooge in amazed delight.. "It's Fan!"

"Dear, dear brother! I have come to bring you home! Home, dear brother, forever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he was that home is like heaven now."

"Maybe for you, Fan, but not for me. Father does not know me or even what I look like, as I hardly know you! You are a young woman now! You must look as our dear mother did just before she died."

"Maybe that is why he is so much, much kinder towards you, Ebbie. He spoke your name so gently when I was going to bed, that I dared to ask if you should come home and he said yes, you should! He even came and brought a coach! And you are to spend the entire Christmas with us! And you are never to come back to this place again! And you are never to be lonely again!"

"Never to be lonely again?"

"Never! As long as I live!"

"Then you must live forever, Fan! No one else loves me as you love me! No one ever has or ever will! You must live forever!"

"That is nonsense, little brother; no one lives forever. And everyone loves you. You must forgive Father for our dearest mother's sake."

"Oh, Fan!" and he buried his face in her shoulder.

"Bring down Master Scrooge's box!" came the voice of the coach driver.

"Come, we must not keep Father waiting," and the two young people departed."

Scrooge and the Spirit went to the window and saw a coach, where an older man stood waiting, looking very much as Scrooge did now, the same cold expression on his face.

"Father!" cried Ebenezer, running towards the man, holding out his arms as if to embrace him, trying.

"There, boy," replied the older man, not even saying his son's name, holding out his own arms to stop his son before he came too near. "Stand still. Let me take a look at you. Well, they have not been overfeeding you, that is certain."

"I--I have grown...I think."

"Yes, most boys do. Fan has told you that you will not be moving back here?"

"Yes, sir."

Now Scrooge and the Spirit were standing right behind the young man, and Scrooge's expression reflected the one on his younger self's face.

"It is time you made your way in the world. I have arranged an apprenticeship for you. You will move into Mr. Fezziwig's establishment in three day's time."

"Three days, Father?" asked Fan. "I hoped I would have my brother home longer."

"Longer? Three days time is quite enough for both of us. Do you not think so, boy?"

"Yes, sir." sighed Ebenezer, resigned. "Quite long enough."

"You finished back there?" the man demanded of his coach driver, using the same tone as Scrooge used on his own clerk, making Scrooge cringe.

"Yes, sir, all safe and secured."

"Get in the coach, Fan." Fan gave their father a pleading look, then a resigned one, as she got into the coach, followed by their father. "We will be on our way." He looked back. "Into the coach, boy."

Scrooge watched as his younger self sadly got into the coach. Then he looked into the window at the two male Scrooges, who, although they were sitting across from each other in the coach, refused to look one another in the eye.

As the coach drove off, Scrooge looked at the Spirit. "Fan pleaded for more time, but my father was a stern man. A very stern man." Then he managed a smile. "Fan. Dear little Fan. Although she was older, she was always so small, she always seemed the younger."

"Your sister was always a delicate creature," agreed the Spirit, as they watched the coach leave the grounds. "But she had a large heart. She died a married woman, and had, as I think, children."

Scrooge began to figet, feeling uncomfortable. "One."

"Your nephew, Fred," and there was an accusing tone in his voice.

"SHE DIED GIVING BIRTH TO HIM!" Scrooge roared.

"As your mother died giving birth to you! Something your father never forgave you for. As if you had anything to do with it!" and Scrooge stared at him, amazed and ashamed to discover that he had made the same mistake his father had.

"Your nephew bears a strong resemblance to his mother."

"Does he? I never noticed."

"You never noticed? I am beginning to think that you have gone through life with your eyes closed. Open them. Open them wide. Come! Let us see another Christmas, one you enjoyed."

The Spirit waved his holly branch and again the fog surrounded them, and again Scrooge felt himself uplifted, feeling as if he were flying. This time when the fog lifted, they were in a dark alley in front of an old building. A sign above the door announced "Fezziwig and Co., Mercantile and Exporters."

"Do you know this places, Ebenezer Scrooge?"

"Of course. Why, I was apprenticed here!" and the Spirit laughed at the sound of joy in Scrooge's voice.

Scrooge ran to the door, but hesitated when he reached it. Then he opened it to let out light and laughter, even as a crowd of people worked. Sitting on a high stool in front of a large desk was a jolly, portly, older gentleman.

"Fezziwig!" cried Scrooge. "It's old Fezziwig, alive again! What an employer, as hard and as firm as a rose petal!"

Fezziwig looked up, lifting a clock. "Yo ho, Dick, Ebenezer! It's seven o'clock!"

Scrooge turned to look. There was his younger self, looking much as he had before, with another young man, about his same age, working at the desk next to his.

"Dick Wilkins! Why, bless me, there he is! We were apprentices together. He was very attached to me was Dick!"

Fezziwig leaped up from his stool and ran to the two young men. "It's Christmas Eve, Dick! It's Christmas, Ebenezer!" and he sprinkled sand on the ink in their books. "No more work. You will enjoy yourself tonight, Ebenezer--that is an order!"

"Yes, sir, I will try."

"Try with all your heart, my boy. You put enough of yourself in your work. I have nothing but praise for the way you have discharged your duties, but you are young. There is more to life than bolts of cloth and musty ledgers, eh?"

"Yes, sir!"

Then to the rest of his workers, Fezziwig called out, "No more business! Come, come, close the door, shut the windows, before you can say "Jack Robinson"! Yo, ho, quickly clear the area! Make room for the dancing!"

As Dick and Ebenezer ran to the windows, Fezziwig urged them on. "Hilli-ho, Dick! Hilli-ho, Ebenezer! That is right! Shut 'em up, boys! Shut 'em up!" as the two young men nailed the shutters. "Doors next!" as the young men shut and locked the doors. "Stools up!" and the young men upended their stools on top of their desks. "We are ready, ladies!"

The door to the back where the kitchen was located opened wide and out stepped a woman as jolly and as portly and as elderly as Fezziwig himself. "Hold your horses, Husband!"

"Horses? Horses! I don't see any horses, my dear!" and everyone laughed, as Mrs. Fezziwig ran up to her husband, grabbing him for a large, sloppy, noisy kiss as everyone laughed louder.

"Splendid woman, Mrs. Fezziwig!" smiled the Spirit.

"Yes, she is. Look!" cried Scrooge. "It's the Fezziwig daughters, and there are their suitors!" as three women who looked a lot like their parents came out, running to three other employees who awaited the daughters. The daughters were followed by more women, carrying out large trays of food and pitchers of drink.

"And look!" cried Scrooge. "There is young Eli Fezziwig!" as a young lad ran through the door and to the table to sample the food.

Mrs. Fezziwig also went to the table and grabbed a large turkey drumstick.

"My dear," her husband reminded her, sneaking up behind her. "I thought you were on a diet!"

"I am," she admitted, as she took a huge bite. "But I need the strength to go on with it!"

He laughed as he gave her cheek a large smacking kiss, then called out, "Tuck in, one and all! Eat heartily, before Mrs. Fezziwig has it all! And remember, remember--she's on a diet!"

Everyone laughed as they began surrounding the table. Then one of the other employees brought out a fiddle and began playing a merry jig.

Mrs. Fezziwig grabbed her husband's hands. "Your turn, Mr. Fezziwig!"

"Very well, my dear." First Fezziwig sang and danced to a crazy song, which got everyone except Scrooge and his younger self laughing. Then calling for a polka, Fezziwig grabbed his wife and soon he was whirling her around. Everyone laughed and clapped in time with the beat, even the Spirit. Only Scrooge crossed his arms and frowned at such frivolity, but his feet tapped in time to the beat.

Once the polka stopped and the fiddler began a contra, the Fezziwigs stopped to catch their breaths, and Mrs. Fezziwig went to the table to build up her strength. Others began dancing, but not young Ebenezer.

"Why did you not join in the dance?" asked the Spirit.

"Because I could not do it." The Spirit shook his finger at him. "I had other, more important things in mind," explained Scrooge.

Indeed young Ebenezer had forgotten what his master told him. He now brought a ledger to him. "Mr. Fezziwig! Mr. Fezziwig, sir!"

"What is it, my boy?"

"Do you have any idea how much this party is costing, sir? I have checked the ledger and--"

Fezziwig slammed the book shut. "Ebenezer, it's Christmas! A time for generosity and fun! Now go meet people! Go, go! In fact..." and as Ebenezer went one way, Fezziwig went the other, and found a beautiful young woman, who was just walking through the kitchen door. Fezziwig began leading her across the room. "I love these annual Christmas parties," he told her. "I love them so much that I might start having them twice a year!"

The young woman laughed and as she did, she bumped right into young Ebenezer Scrooge! "Oh, excuse me, sir!"

"Excuse me," Ebenezer said as he turned, but when he looked into her beautiful eyes and she looked into his, both were instantly smitten.

"Belle," introduced Fezziwig, "I would like you to meet Ebenezer Scrooge, one of the finest young financial mind in the city. Ebenezer, I would like you to meet Belle, a friend of the Fezziwig family."

"Belle!" cried Scrooge. "Little Belle! I had forgotten how beautiful she was!"

"I am pleased to meet you," and Belle reached out her hand towards Ebenezer, who took it and kissed it.

"Well, I am glad you two finally met! Now, go, go dance!" as the music turned into a beautiful, haunting waltz. Ebenezer took Belle into his arms and they flowed across the floor, never taking their eyes off one another.

"Fezziwig once told me," Scrooge muttered as he watched the two young people dance. " 'Ebenezer, when happiness comes calling, always give it a comfortable seat.' "

"True. For not knowing how to dance, you are doing quite well," and Scrooge could only nod. "How long since you have danced, Ebenezer Scrooge?"

"A waste of time, dancing."

"You did not think so then."

"I had a reason then."

Suddenly everyone began to fade away. "Spirit! They are gone! Spirit! They have vanished!"

"Not quite all!" and the Spirit pointed towards the door where Ebenezer and Dick, now dressed in coats and hats and scarves, were walking towards the door.

"Was there ever such a party?" asked Dick.

"Was there ever such an employer?" asked Ebenezer.

"Never!" cried both. "Never, never, never!" and out the door they walked.

"Old Fezziwig--a silly man."
.
Scrooge turned to stare at the Spirit in surprise. "Silly? Why silly?"

"Well, what has he done to deserve the praise of those apprentices? Despite what your younger self told him, this party only cost him a few pounds in your mortal money, two or three at the most. Then he danced like a monkey and smiled like a fool. Why does he deserve their praise?"

"YOU DO NO UNDERSTAND!" roared Scrooge. "Why, the happiness he gives us is quite as great as though it had cost a thousand pounds! He has the power to make our work a pleasure or a burden! It has nothing to do with money!" and now Scrooge became melancholy.

"What is it?" asked the Spirit gently.

"Nothing. Looking back, perhaps things seem better than they were."

"So this was all a lie?"

"The world changes. You can not trust anything or anyone." He paused to think about it, then smiled in memory. "But, no, it was just like this, right down to the last mince pie, the last dance."

The Spirit also smiled, pleased. "Let us visit another Christmas, Ebenezer Scrooge, only one year later."

He waved his holly branch and again they were enveloped by the fog, which quickly dissipated to reveal Ebenezer sitting at his desk, writing in the ledger, this time happy and smiling in anticipation. The door opened to let in Mr. Fezziwig and another man, older and even fatter than Fezziwig and dressed much fancier with diamonds winking in his tie and on his fingers and from the top of his cane.

The man was talking as they walked through the door. "Come, come; it is a busy week. We are good friends, I think, besides good men of business. We are men of vision and progress. Why do you not sell out while the going is good? You will never get a better offer. You should be aid to the machine and the factory and the vested interest. We small traders are all history, Mr. Fezziwig."

Fezziwig led the other man into his office. "Yes, I dare say we are. And the offer is a very large one, I have to admit, but it is not just for money alone that a man spends a lifetime building up a business, Mr. Jorkin."

Jorkin laughed, a sound that grated on Scrooge's nerves as he remembered it and what was to come. "Well, if it is not, I would like you to tell me what you do spend a lifetime building up a business for!"

"It's to preserve a way of life that one knew and loved. No, I can not see my way to selling out to the new vested interest, Mr. Jorkin. I have to be loyal to the old ways and die out with them if needs must."

Again Jorkin laughed. "You know what they say about time and tide, Mr. Fezziwig. They wait for no man."

"There is more in life than money, sir."

At that moment, Dick Wilkins ran through the door and into the inner office. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Fezziwig, sir?"

"Uh, yes, yes, my boy?"

"The foreman would appreciate a word with you, if you could spare the time, sir."

"Uh, yes, yes, of course. Excuse me a moment," and Jorkin nodded, so Fezziwig and Dick left the office.

Jorkin watched them leave, then looked at Ebenezer, who had returned to his work as his employer left, but Jorkin had obviously seen his interest. Again he laughed. "You can not teach an old dog new tricks, can you, Mr. Scrooge? Nor teach the leopard to change its spots."

"Well, I-I think I know what Mr. Fezziwig means, though, sir."

"Oh, so you hate progress and money, too, do you?"

"Well, no, I do not hate them, sir, but, well, perhaps the machines are not such a good thing for mankind after all, when they take away jobs, sir."

"Sage and onions, my dear fellow! Ha! Gammon and spinach! Why, suppose I told you, you could get twice the salary Old Fezziwig can afford to pay you? And advancement he can not afford to offer you as a clerk in a new company? What would you say to that, eh?"

"Well, I--I--I would still say money is not everything, sir."

"Ha, well, if it is not, I do not know what is. Come and see me one day anyway, young fellow. You are smart, and you are no fool. That is the kind of buck they are looking for these days," and after laughing, he whistled his way out the door.

Ebenezer looked thoughtful for a moment, but that changed when Fezziwig and Dick came back through the door. "Forget about him, Ebenezer!" Fezziwig cried. "There shall only be joy and happiness here this day. It's Christmas Eve, Ebenezer! Christmas, Dick!"

Scrooge watched as once more the employees poured through the door and helped get the room ready for Christmas. Soon Fezziwig cried out, "We are ready, ladies!"

The door to the back opened wide and out stepped Mrs. Fezziwig even jollier than the previous year and even more portly. "Hold your horses, Husband!"

"Horses? Horses! I do not see any horses, my dear!" and everyone laughed at that. Then Mrs. Fezziwig ran up to her husband, grabbing him for a large, sloppy, noisy kiss and everyone laughed louder, then began surrounding the table.

Again the door opened and the young Fezziwigs came through the kitchen door. This time young Eli Fezziwig ran right to Ebenezer. "Do the trick, Ebenezer!"

"So you want the trick? Abracadabra!" and he waved his arms. "1, 2, 3," and he pulled a shilling from behind the lad's ears, and the lad laughed in delight, while Scrooge smiled.

Then the employee brought out his fiddle and began playing a merry jig.

Mrs. Fezziwig grabbed her husband's hands. "Your turn, Mr. Fezziwig!"

"Not tonight, Mrs. F!"

"Oh, persuade him, Ebenezer!"

"It would not be Christmas without you performing, Mr. Fezziwig!"

"Oh, very well!"

Scrooge smiled at the memory. "I could always coax him into it."

Now Belle came out, carrying a platter of food. Ebenezer ran over to her, greeting her, then asking her to dance. She agreed and they joined the polka, the looks on their faces even more blissful than the year before. At one point of the dance, the women stood in the middle, waving their hankies while the men danced around them. Of course, Belle gave hers to Ebenezer, who kissed her and then led her towards the table.

As they walked, Belle told him, "There has been a change in you since last year, Ebenezer. You were so gloomy."

"I think I should warn you, Miss Belle; I am of a serious bent of mind."

"I consider seriousness to be an admirable trait of character, but it can be overdone."

"I shall take heed of your advice, ma'am, and go through life with a grin on my face."

Scrooge looked at his younger self, remembering, even managing a small grin of his own.

The two young people were now by the punchbowl. Ebenezer picked up a glass when old Mr. Fezziwig, as jolly as ever, came up behind them. "Come along, you two! He is striking up 'Sir Roger DeCoverly'! Time enough to sample the punch when you are old and fat like me!" He glanced towards the others, where young Eli was about to dance with his mother. "Oops! I better partner my wife, before that young scamp goes dancing off with her!" Then putting his arms around the two of them, he told them, "What a difference it makes, Ebenezer, to travel the rough road of life with the right female to help bear the burden, eh? What a lucky man I am!" and off he ran.

"Shall we join the others, Ebenezer?"

"My pleasure, Miss Belle."

Again everyone faded and once more there were just Ebenezer and Dick, walking out the door. This time Ebenezer had only one thing on his mind. "Belle." he said dreamily.

"Are you in love, Ebenezer?"

"Hmmm. The thought had occurred to me."

"She is too good for the likes of you."

"One day, when I have made my fortune, then I will deserve her."

"It was another night, never to be forgotten."

"Never."

"But you did forget," put in the Spirit. "Often. Come, let us see another Christmas Eve, a number of years later."

[Esmeralda]

Again he waved his holly branch. This time they seemed to fly for a long time before the fog began to fade. This time they found themselves in a bedchamber where a young woman, face waxy white, eyes closed, lie in the bed, a doctor and a handsome young man watching over her.

"No, Spirit!" cried Scrooge, recognizing the scene, deep agony in his voice. "Not here!"

"Yes, here."

Scrooge turned his back. "I will not look!"

The Spirit turned him around. "Yes, you will. You must."

Even as they watched, Ebenezer came running into the room, running to the bed, kneeling down beside it, grabbing the woman's hand. "Fan? Fan! It's your brother. Do you know me?"

Fan's voice was very soft. "Eb-e-ne-zer...I sent for you...Prom-ise me..."

"Promise you what, Fan? I will promise you anything, dearest. Only there, there is not going to be any need. You are going to get well again, Fan. You are. You are!" and there were tears in his voice and tears in Scrooge's eyes. "Dear God, you must! Fan, you-you-you can not die! Fan, you must not die! You are going to get well again, Fan! Fan, you are going to get well again!"

But the doctor put a hand on Ebenezer's shoulder. When Ebenezer turned to look at him, the doctor shook his head. Ebenezer kissed his sister's cheek, then slowly rose and began to walk out. At the sound of a baby's cry, he glared at the nearby cradle, and when the handsome young man, Fan's husband, tried to offer his condolence, Ebenezer simply glared at the man who dared to put his beloved sister in this situation and left, tears rolling down his cheeks.

They were also rolling down Scrooge's cheeks. Scrooge turned to glare at the Spirit. "How could you have brought me here? Have you no mercy, no pity?"

But suddenly he heard a very, very soft voice. "Eb-e-ne-zer...Broth-er...Eb-e-ne-zer...Prom-ise me." For a moment the voice was silent, as if Fan was gathering her strength. With her last breath, she managed, "My boy, you will take care of my boy...Prom-ise me you will take care of my--" and then she spoke no more. The doctor checked her pulse, then crossed her arms over her body, shaking his head at Fan's husband.

The Spirit glared at Scrooge, accusation in his eyes. "You heard her!"

Scrooge had heard the words his younger self had not. Weeping even harder, he cried out, "Forgive me, Fan! Forgive me! Oh, please, Fan, forgive me!"

Even as he continued to weep, the Spirit waved his branch. The fog enveloped them, but quickly dissipated to show a different office than Fezziwig's. A different young man worked at the books. The door opened to reveal Mr. Jorkin, leading Ebenezer into the offices and to an open desk. "Well, there you are, me buck. That is where you will start. And you can work your way up as high as the dome in St. Paul's Cathedral, if you have a mind to do so. Control the cash box, and you control the world."

"Yes, sir."

"By the way, how did Old Fezziwig take it, when you said you were leaving him?"

"He wished me luck, sir."

"No hard feelings, eh? Starting with a clean slate? Good! And now let me introduce you to your fellow clerk. Mr. Marley?" The other young man turned. "Just a moment, please?" The other man nodded and walked over to Ebenezer's new desk. "This is Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge, our new clerk. This is Mr. Jacob Marley, our wizard of the accounts."

The two young men shook hands and greeted one another.

"I am sure you two gentlemen will get along famously."

"I'm sure we will, Mr. Jorkin, sir," replied Jacob Marley, and Ebenezer nodded.

"Yes," and Jorkin laughed. "Well, I will leave you to it."

Once they were alone, Jacob nodded towards the desk. "Take your place. No doubt, this seems new and strange to you."

"Somewhat."

Jacob returned to his own desk, as Ebenezer sat down at his. "The world is on the verge of new and great changes, Mr. Scrooge. Some of them, of necessity, will be violent. Do you agree?"

"No, I think the world is becoming a very hard and cruel place, Mr. Marley," and Ebenezer's voice sounded cold, more like the young Ebenezer who was confronted by his father than the one who had danced with Belle and made Eli Fezziwig laugh. "One must steel oneself to survive it. Not to be crushed under with the weak and the infirm."

Jacob smiled. "I think we have many things in common, Mr. Scrooge."

"I hope so, Mr. Marley," and as the two young men began to work, the Spirit told Scrooge, "Another Christmas Eve, only a year later."

This time, when the fog faded, they were outside the Fezziwig factory again, but it was no longer the Fezziwig factory. Eli Fezziwig, a young man now, was climbing a ladder, where he slowly and sadly took down the sign. Close by, his father sat in a coach, watching the proceedings, a tear in his eye.

As young Eli slowly climbed down the ladder, Ebenezer and Jacob walked by.

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Scrooge, sir?" asked Eli.

"Yes?"

"Pardon the liberty, sir, but do you know if I am supposed to be kept on, sir?"

"What is your present salary?"

"Five shillings a week, sir."

"You may stay for four shillings a week."

Eli's face fell, but he nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," and he brought the sign to the coach as the two men watched.

Although Eli's father tried to duck out of the way, Jacob spot him. "Is that not Old Fezziwig?" he asked, before unlocking the door of the warehouse and walking in.

Ebenezer looked into the coach, meeting the stare of his ex-employer, then he looked down in remorse, before sadly watching as the coach left before he himself entered the warehouse he and Jacob now owned.

Scrooge could not stop his own tears of guilt from flowing down his cheeks.

The Spirit waved his holly. "Look," he said. "Later, that same Christmas Eve, a meeting delayed by the pressure of business."

This time the fog quickly dissipated to reveal Belle, sitting on a bench near a frozen river, a very unhappy look on her lovely face.

"Belle!" cried Scrooge.

"Yes, Belle. The same Belle you swore to love for all eternity, Ebenezer Scrooge."

Now they could see Ebenezer, looking just as he had in front of the Fezziwig warehouse, walking towards her. stopping when he was standing in front of her. "Hello, Belle. I am sorry I am late."

"I thought that you might not come. I know how busy you are."

"Well," and now he sat down next to her, but she did not look at him, and when he tried to take her hand, she took it back. "The time of year and the nature of my business, it is important that I use my time and opportunities wisely."

"I am going away, Ebenezer. You will not see me again."

"No!" screamed Scrooge. "Belle! Please! No!"

"But you were going to marry me!"

"No. You have found another love to replace me. She is a lot more desirable than I am."

"I have no idea what you are talking about. What love has replaced me?"

"A golden idol."

This angered Ebenezer. "How shall I ever understand this world? There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty, and yet there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth."

"You fear the world too much, Ebenezer. I have watched all of your noble hopes and ambitions merge into a single goal--that of being rich. One master passion now engulfs you. Money."

"What of it? Perhaps I have become wiser," and Scrooge nodded, smiling. Then Ebenezer turned to put an arm around her. "But I have not changed towards you," and Scrooge nodded again, smiling broader.

But she shrugged his arm away. "Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were young and our prospects limited, and when we were both content to be so until we improved our fortunes. You are changed. When we promised each other, you were another man."

"I was a boy," replied Ebenezer, scornfully.

"You see? Your own feelings tell you that you are not what you were. I see that all too clearly. How often and how keenly I have thought of this, I will not say, but I have thought of it and can release you from your promise."

"No!" cried Scrooge. "No, no!"

"Have I ever asked you to release me? Ebenezer demanded.

"In words, no. Never."

"How then?"

"In your changed nature. In everything that made me once love you." They both stood and began to walk together. Belle took a deep breath and then asked, "If there had been no understanding between us, would you seek me out and try to win me now, a dowryless girl with nothing but myself to bring to a marriage?"

"Yes, Belle," cried Scrooge. "Yes!"

But the two young people walked a short way, in total silence. "You have no answer?" Belle accused.

"Do you think I would not?"

"Oh, Ebenezer! What a safe and terrible answer. So characteristic of the careful man you have become."

They walked back towards the bench. Belle pressed on. "If you were free today, tomorrow, yesterday, Ebenezer, can you honestly say that you would choose a poor girl like me to marry? You who weigh everything by gain?"

"Speak to her!" cried Scrooge. "Why does he not speak to her?"

But Ebenezer remained silent, as he sat back on the bench.

So Belle answered for him. "No, my love, you would not. There would be no profit in it." She then took off her glove and drew off her engagement ring, showing it to him. "If I were to set this ring on that scale in your office, how many pieces of gold would it take to balance it? Not many, my love, not many at all. And so I am not enough for you. And if you forgot your principles of profit for a moment and did marry me, you would regret it, my love, I know."

"No!" cried Scrooge, agony in his voice. "No, Belle! I would love you still! I do love you still!"

"Hush!" commanded the Spirit. "I am trying to listen."

Again Belle took a deep breath, then knelt down next to him, looking up, so she could look Ebenezer right in the eye. "And so, Ebenezer, I release you with a full heart for the love of the man you once were."

"Say something, you fool!" cried Scrooge. "Say something."

But Ebenezer remained silent.

Belle took his hand in hers and dropped her engagement ring in his hand, closing his fist over it, as she said, "You may, for a little while, have pain in this, but it will pass. And you will dismiss the recollection of it gladly, as an unprofitable dream from which it happened well that you awoke."

Ebenezer still did not say a word as Belle stood up and began slowly walking away.

"Do not go, Belle!" cried Scrooge, chasing after her. "This is a mistake! Do not go! Belle! Please, Belle!"

Belle turned around to look right through Scrooge and spoke to Ebenezer instead. "You are now a free man, Ebenezer Scrooge. May you be happy in the life you have chosen," and she turned back to continue walking away.

Scrooge turned to his younger self. "Go after her!" he demanded. Ebenezer began to stand up, but then sat back down. "Do not be afraid!" begged Scrooge. "Go after her! For God's sake, go after her!"

But Belle kept walking, once to sadly look back, tears in her eyes and on her cheeks, while Ebenezer remained seated, silent.

"You fool!" Scrooge accused. "You young fool!" Then he turned back to face the Spirit, tears in his own eyes and on his own cheeks. "Did you see? I almost went after her. I did."

"Almost carries no weight, especially in matters of the heart," replied the Spirit. "And you did have a heart, did you not, Ebenezer Scrooge? So why did you not follow her?" as they watched Ebenezer stand and begin walking in the opposite direction. "Did you think that you would find someone better, richer?"

Like his younger self, Scrooge remained silent, brooding.

Or were you simply afraid to lose her, as you lost everyone else who you loved?"

Rather than answering, Scrooge cried out, "Spirit, show me no more. Conduct me home."

"Not yet. Look and see what you have lost!" and the Spirit waved his holly branch.

This time when the fog dissipated, they saw an older woman, smiling happily, a baby in her arms.

This time when the fog dissipated, they saw an older woman, smiling happily, a baby in her arms.

"Why," cried Scrooge. "It's Belle!"

"Yes. Belle."

Now they could see that she was surrounded by young children, the older ones finishing making a snowman.

"And those are her children?" asked Scrooge, wonder in his voice.

"Oh, darlings!" cried Belle, as the children ran from the snowman to surround her. "He is wonderful, isn't he?"

Scrooge shook his head in undisguised delight. "Lord, what a brood!"

At that moment a smallish coach drove into the courtyard. Through the window, they could see a handsome, smiling man. Belle and the children ran to the coach, Belle still holding the baby in one arm, while leading her next-youngest by the other hand.

The man leaped out of the carriage. "Hello, hello! Merry Christmas!" He kissed Belle. "Hello, my dear!" and taking the baby from her, he kissed it on the forehead.

"Hello, Papa!" cried the older children. "Merry Christmas!"

"Where is my present, Papa?" asked the next-to-the-youngest, a cute little girl who looked a lot like Belle.

"You will have to wait until tonight," her father told her. "All of you. Presents on Christmas Eve, as usual," and the children ran towards the small, modest home.

"Fancy," mused Scrooge. "They might have been mine."

The Ghost nodded. "The same thought has occurred to me."

They watched as Belle and her husband began walking arm-in-arm towards the house. "I saw an old friend of yours in the city this afternoon."

"Who was it?" Belle asked.

"Guess."

Belle thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I can not," she laughed. "I do not know." She laughed again before naming the last possible choice. "Oh, Ebenezer Scrooge!"

"Mr. Scrooge, it was. I passed his office window, and it was not shuttered. He had a single candle lit upon his desk. His partner, Jacob Marley, lies on the point of death, I hear, and there he sat--Ebenezer Scrooge--all alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe."

"Poor Ebenezer," and sympathy oozed from her voice. "Poor wretched man."

"Spare me your pity!" demanded Scrooge. "I have no need of it."

The Spirit smiled. "They can not hear you," he reminded.

"And as for you, I have had enough of your pictures from the past. Leave me! Haunt me no longer! Why do you delight in torturing me?"

"I told you. These were but shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are, do not blame me."

"Take me away from this place!"

"Very well. But we have not done yet, Ebenezer Scrooge. We do but turn another page."

[Esmeralda]

And the Spirit waved his holly branch. This time the fog would surround them only to dissipate enough to show a scene, only to have the fog return again, as Scrooge watched time pass.

"And as you and Jacob Marley used the money you made for Mr. Jorkin to buy more and more real estate and this new business of yours prospered, Ebenezer Scrooge, a golden idol took possession of your heart, just as Belle said it would."

Now the fog totally dissolved to show an older Ebenezer, an older Jacob Marley, Mr. Jorkin, and a number of other well-dressed gentlemen seated around a table.

"May we hear those figures again, Mr. Snedrig?" one of them asked. "At your pleasure?" he asked the man who sat at the head of the table, opposite of Jorkin.

"Certainly, Mr. Groper."

"Well, gentlemen, after seventeen years of existence, the Amalgamated Mercantile Society's books show the startling figures of a liability of three thousand-two hundred pounds, eight shillings and ten pence." As Snedrig read off these numbers, Ebenezer and Jacob sat back in their chairs, smug looks on their faces. "And a total asset of eleven pounds, eight shillings and ten pence."

"Well," admitted Jorkin, laughter in his voice. "At least the eight shillings and ten pence cancel each other out."

"How much of this is the company's capital?" asked the man sitting at the the head of the table.

"All of it, Mr. Rosebed, sir." replied Snedrig.

"In short, sir," Rosebed accused Jorkin, "You are not only bankrupt, you are an embezzler of the company's funds."

That only made Jorkin laugh harder. "I also beat my wife and skewer young babies when in my cups."

"That is a very cool attitude, if I may say so, sir."

"So do Mr. Scrooge and Mr. Marley," he reminded them, indicating the two younger men.

"They are not facing prosecution for capital offense."

"Oh, but, gentlemen, it could be any one of you. We are all cut-throats under these fancy linens, Mr. Snedrig."

"I must ask you to speak for yourself, Mr. Jorkin!" cried one of the other gentlemen.

"Well, what would you gain by prosecuting me? All you would get out of it is about eleven pounds out. And to pack me off to Botany Bay would be poor compensation for the panic that would arise among the shareholders."

"Panic, sir?"

"Yes, panic. Would any of you gentlemen care to deny that if this juicy little scandal leaked out now, the annual shareholders meeting would resemble an orchestra of scorched cats!" and Ebenezer and Jacob could barely hold back their glee. "Result? Bankruptcy all around."

"Strike that speech out of the minutes!" cried Rosebed, and the secretary agreed.

"Mr. Jorkin does not exaggerate the imprudence of allowing this, uh, misdemeanor to be made public," Ebenezer told them.

"Are you in sympathy with Mr. Jorkin by any chance, Mr. Scrooge?" asked Mr. Groper.

"Not, I confess, with the admittance," he replied. "Mr. Marley and I have a proposition to make to the representatives of the company which might solve some of the difficulties to our general advantage."

"The devil you have!"

"You ought to watch these two fellows, you know," warned Jorkin. "They could skin Jack Ketch alive and he would never know they had done it," and he sounded quite proud of his clerks.

"Can we hear the proposition?"

Ebenezer turned to look at Jacob. "Shall I be the spokesman?" Jacob nodded, so Ebenezer began. "Mr. Marley and myself are good to make out of our own private resources," and he smirked at Jacob, as they remembered how they had made that money, the sum of money appropriated by Mr. Jorkin.

"Reprieved!" laughed Jorkin. "Reprieved! Curfew shall not ring tonight, Mr. Snedrig."

"Order" cried Rosebed. "Order!"

Now Ebenezer smiled evilly, a snake getting ready to strike. "In return, we wish to be allowed the option of buying up further options in the company. To a maximum of fifty-one percent of the total."

"In short, gentlemen," concluded Jorkin, "if you wish to save the fair name of the company by accepting their generous offer," and he laughed gleefully, "they become the company!"

"Fifty-one percent? Never!"

"Never! Never!"

"Out of the question!"

"And also out of order, Mr. Scrooge!"

But Ebenezer merely sat back, putting his thumbs into the pockets of his vest, knowing he and Jacob had them exactly where they wanted them--where they had absolutely no choice.

Ebenezer turned to the Spirit. "Our plan worked exactly as we knew it would. We sold that company for a very large profit, which put all of these gentlemen out of business while making Jacob and myself richer than we had ever imagined."

"Congratulations."

"I would ask you not to sneer."

"But were you and Jacob Marley happy in your new-found wealth, Ebenezer Scrooge? Let us find out."

Again the Spirit waved his holly branch, and again time passed. This time when the fog dissipated, they could see a dark, cold street, with sleet falling down and a strong, nasty wind blowing. A woman came running down the street, holding her cloak tightly around herself. She stopped to look up at the sign that read "Scrooge and Marley" and scurried into the building.

When she opened the door, it was to find Bob Cratchit--a younger Bob Cratchit, but slaving away at the books, just as he would in the future.

She walked up to his desk. "Pardon me," she asked in a very strong Cockney accent, "if you can find the grace to, I've jist come from Mr. Marley's with a message for Mr. Scrooge."

"Well, can I give it to him?" Bob asked.

"Well, please your great kind self, dear. I'm to say that Mr. Marley isn't expected to live through the night, and that if Mr. Scrooge wants to take his leave of him, he should nip along smartly or there won't be no Mr. Marley to take leave of--as we know the use of the word." Bob shook his head in disbelief. "He's breathing very strange--when he does breathe at all."

Bob quickly rose from his stool and went to the door to the inner office, knocking before entering. "Excuse me, Mr. Scrooge, sir."

Ebenezer, looking much like Scrooge did now, did not even look up. "I am busy."

"It's about Mr. Marley; he is dying, sir."

"Well, what can I do about it?" demanded Ebenezer, not even looking up from his work. "If he is dying, then he is dying."

"Well, the message was for you to go at once, sir."

Ebenezer looked up, but only to look at the clock, then he went back to his work. "It is now quarter of five. The business of the office is not yet finished; I shall go when the business is finished. At seven o'clock."

"Yes, sir." Bob returned to his desk where the woman stood waiting. "He will come at seven."

"I'll try to get Mr. Marley to hold out til then, I'm sure. Much obliged. Good night to you," and she walked out of the door, only to look back in to add, "And a Merry Christmas to you--if it's not out of keeping with the situation."

"Thank you," replied Bob. "The same to you," and she left. Bob looked up at the clock, then returned to his own work, taking the time to glance at it now and then as it slowly made its way to seven o'clock.

At exactly seven, Ebenezer began closing up the inner office, finally walking out into the outer one. There Bob waited with his coat. As he helped his boss put it on, he told him, "I hope you will find Mr. Marley well, sir."

"I should think that highly unlikely," replied Ebenezer, putting his scarf around his neck.

"Yes, I suppose so, sir, but it seems odd to think about the place without him, sir."

"Why should it be any more odd than it was with him, hmm? We have all got to die, Cratchit," and he put his hat on his head, then turned back to glare at his clerk. "I suppose you will want the whole day off tomorrow, as usual."

"If quite convenient, sir."

Ebenezer snorted. "Every Christmas you say the same thing. And every Christmas it is just as inconvenient as it was the Christmas before. See that you are here all the earlier the following day. Good night."

"Good night, sir. Merry Christmas."

"Christmas? Humbug!" and out the door he went.

Once more the Spirit waved his holly branch. Now they were in Jacob Marley's house, the very house that was now Scrooge's own. Ebenezer was just entering the hall, looking up to find the cleaning lady who had delivered the message and a long, tall, thin man, dressed totally in black, standing in front of the door to the bedchamber. As Ebenezer climbed the steps, he asked the cleaning lady, "Is that the doctor?"

"No, sir--the undertaker."

Ebenezer snorted, then asked him, "You don't believe in letting the grass grow under your feet, do you?"

"Ours is a highly competitive profession, sir."

"Is he dead yet?" he asked the cleaning lady, no emotion in his voice.

"I'll have another look if you like," and she began to open the door.

"No, don't bother. I will see for myself," and she gladly stepped aside to let him enter. He walked through the outer room and into the bedchamber where Jacob Marley laid on the bed, his face waxy, his eyes closed, his breathing soft, but harsh. Ebenezer bent over to be sure he was yet breathing, and when he began to stand up, he was surprised to see Jacob's eyes open and staring at him.

"Well, uh, Jacob, uh, have they...have they seen to you properly? Last rites and all that, hmm?" Jacob simply stared at him. "There is, uh, there is nothing I can do for you, hmm? Well, then I shall take my leave," and Ebenezer quickly began to walk away.

"Eb-e-ne-zer..."

At the soft sound of his name, Ebenezer turned back and leaned over Jacob again. "Hmm? What...particularly?"

"...there...is...time."

"Time? Time for what?"

"We...we were wrong."

"Huh?"

"Wrong!"

"Wrong? We can not be right all the time. No one is perfect. We have been no worse than the next man. Or better if it comes to that. You must not reproach yourself, Jacob."

Jacob managed to shake his head. "We...were...wrong."

"What?"

Jacob slowly raised his hand and pointed a finger at Ebenezer. "Save...yourself."

"What? Save myself? Save myself from what? Hmm?"

This time Jacob did not answer.

"Speak up!" demanded Ebenezer, but Jacob remained quiet, and when Ebenezer looked at his face, he saw that Jacob Marley was now gone forever. As Ebenezer quickly stood up, putting on his gloves, staring down at his partner, the cleaning woman and the undertaker came in.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Just like you said," she told the undertaker.

He nodded. "I always know."

Ebenezer quickly left without another word or another look, not waiting to watch the undertaker pull the blanket over Jacob's head.

"One shadow more," the Spirit told Scrooge, as he
waved his holly branch.

"No! No more! I--I can not bear it!"

But as the fog surrounded them, the Spirit accused, "Jacob Marley worked at your side for eighteen years. He was the only friend you ever had.

"But what did you feel when you signed the registrar at his burial?" and now they could see Ebenezer standing at the book, surrounded by fellow men of business. "What did you feel when you took his money, his house, and his few lean sticks of furniture? Did you feel a little pity for him? Look at your face, Ebenezer Scrooge. A face of a wrenching, grasping, scraping, covetous old sinner!"

"No more!" cried Scrooge. "Show me no more! Take me home!"

And waving his holly branch once more, they were suddenly back in Scrooge's house, Scrooge standing on the steps leading to his bedchamber. He began climbing up the steps before suddenly turning to look down at the Spirit. The Spirit looked up at him, pity in his eyes.

"HAUNT ME NO LONGER!" screamed Scrooge.

The Spirit shook his head in resignation. That was too much for Scrooge. He ran down the steps, grabbed the Spirit's cap and slammed it down, trying to quench the light that still shone from the top of the Spirit's head. The light grew brighter and brighter, pouring from the bottom of he cap, as the Spirit called out, "Truth lives, Ebenezer Scrooge! Truth lives!"

So Scrooge pushed it down harder and harder. Even as he growled in his determination, he suddenly realized that he was no longer pushing the cap down, but was back in his own bedchamber, alone, a handful of his own rug in his hands, which he was pushing down into the floor.

He dropped the rug with disgust at himself, shaking his head, muttering, "A nightmare! A horrible nightmare!"

And slowly climbing to his feet, he berated himself, "Stupid old fool! Getting yourself all worked up about nothing! It's all in your imagination!" Then he prayed, "Oh,...God,...let me sleep!" and crawling into his bed, he begged, "Let me sleep in peace!" and closing his eyes, again he prayed for peace.

[Esmeralda]

So Scrooge was left alone and exhausted in his bedchamber. And thus he remained until the nearby clock began to strike the hour. Scrooge knew that the second of the ghosts was due to appear. Yet now, as the clock finished striking, and Scrooge sat up on his bed, he was surprised to find himself still alone.

"Two," he mused. "Well, Jacob Marley, where is this second spirit of which you spoke so glibly? You did say at the stroke of two, did you not, Jacob?" and Scrooge chortled. "Well, mistaken in death," as he lay back down on his bed, "as you were in life, old partner," and again he chortled, as he plumped his pillow and lay down, closing his eyes, preparing for a nice, long, restful sleep, certain that both Jacob and the Spirit had been but nightmares.

"EBENEZER SCROOGE!"

Scrooge opened his eyes and looked around. Again he heard his name called, and when he looked around, he saw a bright light shining from beneath the door leading into the outer chamber, a light that grew until it made the entire door glow.

Laughter began pouring from behind the door.

Getting up, Scrooge walked to the door and began to unlock it when the voice boomed, "COME IN, EBENEZER SCROOGE!"

In terror, Scrooge ran back to his bed and closed the curtain.

"COME HERE, EBENEZER SCROOGE! I AM WAITING FOR YOU! OR SHALL I COME IN THERE AND GET YOU?!"

"I'm coming!” cried Scrooge as he jumped from his bed. "I'm coming!" As he ran to the door, he kept calling out the words, afraid of what could try to come and get him.

As he did, the Spirit called out, "I AM THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT. COME IN, MAN, AND KNOW ME BETTER!"

Entering through the door, bright light again blinded Scrooge's eyes, as he put his hands up to try to block it.

"WELCOME, EBENEZER SCROOGE! IS IT TOO BRIGHT FOR YOU?"

Scrooge nodded, so the Spirit dimmed the light enough that Scrooge could see. Now he looked around his room in wonder. It was indeed his own room, but it had undergone a surprising change. The wall and ceiling were so hung with holly, that the room looked like a grove. Heaped upon the floor to form a kind of throne were turkeys, geese, game, greats joints of meat, plum puddings, fruits of every description, and steaming bowls of punch. Upon this couch sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see. He was clothed in one simple deep green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. On his head he wore a holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. His light brown curls were long and free. He held a glowing torch in shape not unlike a Horn of Plenty, and held it up to shed its light on Scrooge. Behind the Spirit were many shiny silver discs, hanging like chimes, tinkling in the air to the rhythm of the Spirit's voice. Scrooge could not help but think that the Spirit looked something like the pictures he had seen of the grown Christ, although this was certainly not Him.

Laughter continued to pour from the Spirit. "Come over here, you weird, little man." As Scrooge slowly, cautiously approached the Spirit, he stood and spread his arms. "Now look upon me. You have never seen the likes of me before eh?" laughed the Spirit.

"Never. And I wish the pleasure had been indefinitely postponed."

"Yet how many of my elder brothers born these later years have you rejected in your miserable lifetime?"

"I have never met any of your brothers, sir."

"You have never looked for them."

"Do you have many brothers, Spirit?"

That caused the Spirit to laugh merrily again. "Over eighteen hundred!"

"Tremendous family to provide for," ventured Scrooge.

The Spirit stood up, glaring at him. "Each year at this time, one of us is chosen to visit this puny little planet, to spread some happiness and to remove as many as we can of the causes of human misery, which is why I have come to see you, Ebenezer Scrooge! I must admit, I found it hard to believe you would be as horrible as my brothers said you would be, but now that I look upon you, I can see they were understating the truth."

"Let me assure you, I am a man of highest principles and the most generous spirit."

"GENEROUS SPIRIT?! YOU??!!" and he roared with laughter. "You do not know the meaning of the phrase. But you are about to find out. Take hold of my robe, Ebenezer Scrooge."

Scrooge sighed heavily. "Spirit, take me where you wish. I would like to get this over and done with."

"So, is your heart still unmoved towards us and Christmas, then?"

"I am too old and beyond hope. Go and redeem some younger, more promising creature and leave me to keep Christmas in my own way."

"Mortal! We Spirits of Christmas do not give only one day of our year. We live the whole 365, even if we Spirits of Christmas Present spend but one day upon your planet. So is it true of the child born in Bethlehem. He does not live in men's hearts only one day of the year, but all the days of the year. You have chosen not to seek Him in your heart. Therefore, you shall come with me and seek Him in the hearts of men of good will."

And Scrooge took hold of his robe. The Spirit waved his Horn of Plenty torch and immediately they were walking through a market in the middle of the day.

Each time they passed by food, the Spirit reached into the Horn and brought forth water, which he sprinkled on the food and the people, bringing smiles to the faces of the people.

Scrooge watched for a few minutes, then asked, "Why do you sprinkle water on the food? Is there a blessing in it?"

"There is. My own."

"And would that apply to any meal on this day?"

"To any kindly given. To a poor one most of all."

"Why to a poor one most of all?"

"Because a poor one needs it most of all."

Scrooge looked back at the market. When he turned his head, he saw they were walking down a dark street. "Why have we come to this odd corner of town, Spirit?"

"It is Christmas here, too, you know. We are going to the house of Mr. Cratchit."

"My clerk, Bob Cratchit?"

"The same. The same Bob that you give fifteen 'bob' a week to. Every week he pockets just fifteen copies of his Christian name, and yet here I am, the Spirit of Christmas Present, going to bless him."

Perhaps it was the Spirit's own generous nature and his sympathy for all poor men that had led them straight towards the home of Scrooge's faithful clerk. They soon came upon a small, dark home.

The Spirit pointed at it. "Now, Ebenezer Scrooge, over there lies the lavish home of Robert Cratchit, Esquire, who owes both the opulence of his surroundings and the magnificence of his Christmas celebrations to the high principles and generous spirit of his employer. Would you like to look in the window? It will cost you nothing, which I am sure will be good news for you."

"I would not want to disturb them."

"As with Christmas Past, we shall be unheard and invisible, which I feel sure will be good news for them," and waving his horn, they stood at the window of the home, where the Spirit blessed it.

Inside, a good-looking woman and a younger girl who looked a lot like her were in the midst of putting a worn, well-patched tablecloth on a wooden table. "I wonder what is keeping your dear father and Tiny Tim."

Another younger girl, who looked just like her sister, walked over with an armful of dishes which she put on the table, as she replied, "He probably stopped to talk with the parson. Father always likes to compliment him on his sermons."

"Who are they?" Scrooge asked.

"Mrs. Cratchit, of course, and her twin daughters, Belinda and Bettina."

"Which is which?"

The Spirit laughed. "Sometimes not even Mrs. Cratchit is sure!"

Mrs. Cratchit turned from the table and watched her older son, who was tending to a smallish goose that was hung over the fireplace. "Peter!" she admonished, "Peter, do not stop turning that spit! That is the whole secret of a properly roasted goose."

"It smells so good, Mother!"

"Yes, it does! But where is our Martha?"

"Here I am!" and a taller girl walked into the room to be hugged by all, as they cried out, "Martha's here! Martha's here! Martha, you should see the goose!"

Mrs. Cratchit hugged her oldest daughter tightly. "Bless my heart alive, my dear. You are late."

"We had a great deal of work to finish off, so I slept two nights in the workshop. Then we had to clear away this morning."

"She sounds like a hard-working young girl," commented Scrooge.

"She has to be," replied the Spirit.

"Never mind," Mrs. Cratchit told her daughter, "So as long as you are here. Sit yourself down by the fire and have yourself a good warm. Oh, I do hope the pudding is a success this year."

Martha laughed and said, "No one makes a better pudding than you, Mother dear."

Mrs. Cratchit kissed her, then cried out, "Peter! Save some for the rest of the family."

"Just testing the cooking, Mother."

"I'm sure they will manage well on their own without your help."

Just then a younger girl ran in, greeting their mother. "We could smell the goose, Martha."

"Yes, Kathy," smiled her oldest sister. "It makes my mouth water."

"I can not wait!" cried Kathy.

"Well," their mother told her, "you are going to have to. Now run along and help Martha butter the bread."

"No, Mother! Here comes Father! Hide, Martha! Hide!" and laughing, Martha hid herself in the pantry.

As Martha Cratchit hid herself, Scrooge and the Spirit suddenly heard merry singing coming from behind them. "Ah," murmured the Spirit, tenderly.

When he and Scrooge turned towards the sound, they could see that it was indeed Bob Cratchit, giving Tiny Tim a ride on his shoulder, while Tim held his crutch, as the two harmonized a Christmas carol.

Bob set his young son down right in front of the Spirit and Scrooge. "Come along, son," he said, as he helped him up the steps, the Spirit and Scrooge following. "Let's see if Christmas dinner is ready yet."

Tiny Tim used his crutch to walk into the house, making small sounds of effort as he did. "Careful," warned Bob, as he tenderly helped his son walk in.

"Here they are!" cried Peter, who was opening the door to let them in.

"You are late, Bob Cratchit," scolded Mrs. Cratchit. "And you are like an icicle, Tim." She shook her finger at her husband. "You have been dawdling."

Tiny Tim looked up at his mother. "Father had a long talk with the minister."

"Thought as much!' declared the other twin.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" called out Bob and they all responded back.

"And so say us all," declared Tiny Tim.

Kathy was jumping up and down with delight. "Come and listen to the pudding hissing on the fire, Tim!"

"It's like a giant snake inside the copper," Peter told his younger brother.

Excitedly, Tiny Tim cried out, "Yes! Christmas dinner! The goose! The pudding!" before he started coughing. Immediately everyone surrounded him in concern, telling him to take deep breaths and take it easy.

"Now, son," Mrs. Cratchit told him, "You've gotten yourself too excited. You rest, just rest a little."

"Yes, go along with your brother and sister, Tim; let them help you," Bob told his son. Peter and Kathy made a chair with their hands, and Mrs. Cratchit gently set Tiny Tim atop it and he put his arms around their shoulders. They ran off with him to the fire, Tim now laughing happily.

"I did not know that Cratchit had a crippled son," commented Scrooge, as he watched this whole operation.

"Why didn't you ever ask after his family? Your nephew knows."

"Emily?" asked Bob, worried, as he looked around. "Where is our Martha?"

"She's not coming," replied Emily Cratchit, trying to look as mournful as she could, as did the children.

"What? Not coming on Christmas Day?" and Emily mournfully shook her head.

"Here I am, Father!" and Martha came out of the pantry, hugging her father. "I can not stand to have them tease you!"

"Martha!" cried Bob joyously, hugging his oldest tightly. "It's our Martha!"

Emily laughed. "Of course it is. Now, here, my dear, warm yourself by the fire and have a cup of hot punch," and Emily handed Bob a mug.

Bob took a nice long sip. "Oh, nectar! Pure nectar! And at only tuppence a pint, you really can not grumble! What a tragedy it is that Her Majesty and His Worship the Lord Mayor could not be with us tonight. They don't know what they are missing."

"And how did Tiny Tim behave in church?"

Bob put his arm around his wife. "As good as gold. Better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much. He thinks the strangest things. He told me coming home that he hoped the people in church saw him, because it might be pleasant for them to remember on Christmas Day Who it was that made lame beggars walk and blind men see."

"Not many remember that, you can count on it."

"A truly remarkable child," commented Scrooge, and the Spirit solemnly nodded.

"It seems to me that Tim is getting stronger every day, that his limbs are growing, that he is in better spirits."

"Yes, Bob, I am sure you are right," but although Emily Cratchit smiled as she spoke, the tone of her voice said otherwise. "He is getting stronger."

"Well, we are all here. That is the important thing."

"Belinda! Bettina! Help me with the goose."

"Yes, Mother!" And as they did, Bob walked over to the door, tenderly picked up Tiny Tim's crutch, which stood by the door, and brought it over to the fire, where he lovingly sat it on top of a small stool that stood there waiting.

Then he walked over to his older son. "Peter, I have some good news for you. I met by chance this morning at church a fine gentleman, Fred Holywell, by name. He is the nephew of our own Mr. Scrooge. He remembered that I have a son coming of working age. He has a position starting at three shillings and six pence every week."

"Three shillings and six pence every week!?" cried young Peter Cratchit.

"So if you are agreeable, you may start work on Monday next."

"Now I may help you and Mother."

"More important, you shall be embarking on a fine career with a fine master."

"To start a boy at three shillings and six pence a week," Scrooge told the Spirit, shaking his head in disgust. "It's typical of my nephew. No wonder he has never put by a penny."

"Perhaps he has put by more than money," the Spirit suggested.

"Fred? Ha! He is doing this to spite me, you know. Employing the son of my employee at an exorbitant wage," and the Spirit just shook his head back at him.

"Come and get it!" cried Martha and the twins and all of the Cratchits soon surrounded the table, all of the children yelling about the goose and the pudding and all of the other food.

"Sh, quiet, now, quiet!" their mother told them, smiling, as she brought out the platter and lift up the lid to reveal the golden-brown goose. And with that the Cratchits came to what was surely the happiest single moment in all the livelong year.

"Oh, the goose is so brown and crisp!" cried one of the twins.

"It smells so good!" cried her twin.

"You have outdone yourself, Mother dear!" cried Martha.

"Hurry, Father, cut the goose!" cried Peter.

"It does smell good," Scrooge admitted.

Bob pounded the table with his cutting knife. "Have we not forgotten something?" and all of the Cratchits folded their hands and bowed their heads. "Lord, we thank You for the bounty You have placed before us. We thank You for this day of love and joy. Thank You for allowing us to be together, to share with each other and You the fullness of our hearts on this special day. Amen," and all of the Cratchits echoed his amen.

Even Scrooge muttered, "Amen."

"What?" asked the Spirit. "Did you say something?"

Scrooge shook his head. "No, no."

"Oh, I thought I heard--" and there was a smile in the Spirit's voice.

"No, I said nothing."

Now the Spirit only smiled as they returned their attention to the table, where the Cratchits were busy passing platters holding small amounts of simple food.

As they happily began to eat, Scrooge commented, "Such a meager feast."

"It is all Bob Cratchit can afford, and note that it is very much appreciated."

"There, are we all served?" Bob asked, and everyone agreed. "Then let us begin. And a merry Christmas to us all."

"A merry Christmas to us all!" echoed Emily Cratchit.

"And God bless us," piped Tiny Tim, "every one," and everybody smiled at the young, sick boy, even Ebenezer Scrooge, who watched as Tiny Tim began to eat.

"Tell me, Spirit. Will Tiny Tim live?"

"That is the Future; my realm is the Present. However, I see a vacant seat at this table. I see a crutch without an owner carefully preserved. If these...shadows...remain unaltered by the future, I believe the child will die."

"No!" cried out Scrooge, feeling again the same agony that was in his heart when he watched as his younger self let Belle walk away. "No, say he will be spared."

"If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, none other of my species will find him here. But if he is to die, then he better do it and decrease the surplus population."

"You use my own words against me."

"Yes. So perhaps in the future you will hold your tongue until you have discovered what the surplus population is and where it is. It may well be that in the sight of Heaven that you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child."

Even as Scrooge digested this, a loud cheer brought his attention back to the Cratchits where Emily Cratchit was bringing forth the blazing pudding to the cheers and applause of all, especially when Martha added the holly. Emily sat the small pudding in front of her husband and everyone blew on it to cool it off, before Bob cautiously tried a spoonful. Everyone watched with breath held as he carefully tasted.

Then he looked up at his wife. "A triumph, my dear. This is without doubt your greatest triumph since we were married!" and all the children cheered and applauded again.

"I told you so, Mother!" grinned Martha.

"Oh, it's a success," smiled Scrooge. "What a relief for Mrs. Cratchit."

The Spirit nodded. "There is nothing wrong with that pudding except it is very small for such a large family."

"Nobody complained."

"Any Cratchit would blush at even the hint of such a thing."

"And now that their feast is over--"

"Not quite," interrupted the Spirit. "Just one more ceremonious moment. Look."

He indicated the middle of the room where hung a sprig of mistletoe of which Bob and Emily were taking full advantage, followed by a big hug.

Then Bob turned back to his family. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, if I may steal a moment of your valuable time, I would like to propose a toast." They all nodded, and Emily and Martha served the punch. Once they were all hoisting their mugs, Bob continued, "I would like you to drink a toast to the sparkling good health of the gentleman whose industry and generosity has provided us our sumptuous Christmas repast. To Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge! The founder of our feast!"

Immediately everyone else slammed down their mug.

"What are you trying to do?" demanded Emily Cratchit. "Ruin our Christmas?"

"But his money paid for the goose, my dear."

"No, your money paid for the goose, my dear."

"But he paid me the money."

"Because you earned it, my love. Fifteen shillings a week at threepence an hour, and not a penny rise in eight years. Believe me, you earned it enough."

"Oh, Mr. Scrooge assured me that times are hard."

"He is right--for you, they are, but not for himself."

"Nonetheless, he is the founder of our feast and we shall drink to him."

"Quite right!" agreed Scrooge, then turning to the Spirit. "You listen to this!"

"The founder of our feast indeed!" cried Emily Cratchit.

"Indeed!" agreed the twins.

"I wish I had him here," Emily continued. "I would give him a piece of my mind to feast upon and I will bet that he would choke on it."

"Choke!" echoed the twins.

"Emily, my dear! The children! It's Christmas!"

"Oh, well, I supposed that on the blessed day of Christmas, one must drink to the health of Mr. Scrooge, even if he is odious--"

"Yes!" agreed the twins.

"--stingy--" continued Emily.

"Yes!"

"--wicked--"

"Yes!"

"--and unfeeling--"

"Yes!"

"--and badly dressed!"” which caused a gasp from all the girls, even young Kathy.

"But, Emily! Have some charity."

"You know how he is. Nobody knows it better than you, my poor love."

"To the founder of the feast! Mr. Scrooge!" Everyone turned to the source of that small voice. It was Tiny Tim, lifting his mug.

Emily Cratchit sighed heavily, shamed by her small, sick child. "Children, we shall drink to your father, for all the love and happiness he gives us. And to Tiny Tim, for the health we wish him," and laughing a little, she added, "And for the sake of your father and the sake of the day, I will even drink to that old miser, Mr. Scrooge." And very quickly and with no emotion, she rattled off, "Long life to Mr. Scrooge. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year," and quickly drank.

"A nice gesture," commented the Spirit, and Scrooge glared at him.

Bob smiled and raised his mug higher. "A long life to him. Merry Christmas, Mr. Scrooge," and each child echoed their father's "Merry Christmas to Mr. Scrooge," although none of them sounded as enthusiastic as Tiny Tim had.

"He will be as merry as a graveyard on a wet Sunday, I have no doubt!"

"No doubt!" agreed the twins, letting Emily Cratchit have the last word, making even the Spirit laugh.

Again Scrooge glared at him.

The Spirit shrugged. "Well, she has made a point."

"Well, he has made a point, too, Bob Cratchit has. Without me, there would be no feast, no goose, at all. My head for business has provided him with employment and a meal for Christmas."

"Is that all you have learned by observing this family on Christmas Day?"

"Well, no, but one must speak up for oneself, for one's life."

"Let us forget about old Mr. Scrooge," declared Peter Cratchit. "and enjoy ourselves."

Bob nodded. "Start the song, Tim."

And in a sweet, high voice, Tiny Tim began to sing "Silent Night," the others soon joining in, but stopping when Tiny Tim began coughing again. As the others gathered around him and helped him, the Spirit touched Scrooge and held out his arm, "Come, my time grows short and we still have much to see."

Even as Scrooge took hold of the Spirit's robe and the Cratchit family began to vanish into the darkness, Scrooge kept his eyes on Tiny Tim until the last.

[Esmeralda]

When Scrooge could see again, he saw that they were on another street in another part of town. It was not as shabby as Camden Town, but not ostentatious either, merely comfortable. They could hear people singing "The Holly and The Ivy" within one of the houses.

"So where are we now, Spirit?"

"Just a street. Any street. This house. We will go in there," and he pointed to the home illuminated with light, the music pouring forth. "I think it might amuse you."

"I am in no mood to be amused," but the Spirit laughed merrily and led them through the wall anyway. They stood in a room decorated for Christmas with a small tree beautifully decorated, a Nativity scene sitting on the mantle of the fireplace alight with flame, mistletoe hung above each doorway and holly sprinkled everywhere. A long table held a great amount of food, not as much as had filled Scrooge's room with the appearance of the Spirit of Christmas Present, but much more than had filled the Cratchit table. People milled around the table and around the room, talking and laughing merrily.

A beautiful young woman sat at a spinet, playing the Christmas carol, while a group stood around her, singing.

As the Spirit blessed the room, Scrooge heard a hearty laugh that sounded somewhat familiar. When he looked towards its source, there was his own nephew Fred, holding a glass.

"My dear husband?" asked the woman playing the spinet, who must be Fred's wife Janet, "do you find my playing so amusing?"

"Oh, I am sorry, my love. I was just thinking of his face yesterday. 'Humbug,' he said." Fred shook his head in amazement. "He called Christmas a humbug. It seems the less that Uncle Ebenezer knows, the more he knows it."

"The narrower a man's mind," declared one of the guests, "the broader the statements."

"That is well put, Mr. Bennett," smiled his wife.

He smiled back. "Thank you, my dear."

"Do you think he believes it?" asked another guest. "About Christmas and humbug?"

"Oh, yes, he believes it."

"More shame on him," declared Janet, as she rose from the spinet to stand near her husband.

"That is what I say," agreed another guest, a pretty young woman. "More shame on him indeed."

The man sitting next to her leaned closer. "If you say so, so do I, Miss Betsy."

"Oh, Mr. Haines!"

"Please, call me Topper. Everyone I like calls me Topper."

"Oh--Mr. Topper!" and everyone laughed.

"I would like to meet this uncle of yours," said Mr. Bennett. "The droll way in which you portray him tickles my heart."

"He is comical in his own way," agreed Fred.

"But not very pleasant," put in Janet.

"His offenses bring on their own punishment," Fred insisted, and Scrooge gave him a puzzled look.

"Dear brother-in-law, it is said that he is very rich," hinted another one of the guests, who looked much like Janet.

"Very true, but his wealth is of no use to him," Fred pointed out. He does not do any good with it. He does not even make himself comfortable with it."

Scrooge walked right up to his nephew. "I do not squander it. That is what you mean."

"You are not to argue with the people we visit," the Spirit admonished. "It's useless and even tactless."

"I do not like tact."

"That I can see."

"I have no patience for him," Janet insisted.

"Well, Mr. Scrooge certainly has very few friends."

"He is the most uncivil man I have ever met, Mr. Bennett," declared his wife. "He never says 'Good morning' or 'Good evening' or 'Merry Christmas'! He leaves a bad taste in people's eyes."

"Well, I feel sorry for him," Fred declared, "and will have nothing wrong said against him."

"Sorry for me?" Scrooge was still confused.

"Who suffers for his ill whims?" Fred asked. "Himself. Always. Look, here. He takes it into his heart to dislike us and not come and dine with us."

His sister-in-law nodded, understanding. "And he loses out on a very good dinner, indeed."

"The reason that I talk about my uncle so is that my father has told me that my mother, God bless her sainted soul, was very fond of him. She loved him."

Scrooge nodded. "It's true. Fan loved me. And I her. Dear Fan. If only she were alive today."

"Fred looks very much like her," commented the Spirit.

Scrooge looked at his nephew carefully. "Yes, some. I have been reminded of that just recently. I sometimes forget that Fred is Fan's child."

"You should not!"

"From what my father has told me about her," Fred continued, "if my mother loved someone, they must have had a good heart in them, just as she did."

"She gave that heart to you, my dear," Janet told him. "That is why I love you."

After a tender kiss, applauded by all, Fred continued, "I was only going to say that the consequences of Uncle Ebenezer's taking a dislike to us and not making merry with us is that he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his moldy office or his dusty chambers." He hugged a smiling Janet with one arm as he insisted, "Anyway, I mean to keep the door of happiness open and give him a chance every year to slip in," and he began chuckling, "whether he likes it or not."

"And every year," laughed Janet, "he will say, 'Christmas?'--"

And everyone chanted, "Bah, humbug!" and broke into hearty laughter.

"Come, my dear," said Fred. "We must see to our guests."

Everyone began talking and laughing again. Scrooge put his hands to his head. "Noise and clatter. I can not hear myself think."

"Well, they seem to be happy," observed the Spirit.

"Well," Scrooge replied, watching Janet serve her guests, "I suppose that free food and drink would be an occasion for pleasure to most people."

"Happy in each other's company, I mean."

"Topper!" cried Fred. "The poker!"

As Topper put the poker into the fire, Janet brought out a large punchbowl. Topper put the heated poker into the punch, making it boil and sizzle while everyone cheered. "Topper, would you do the honors?"

"My pleasure," and he began serving the hot punch, once reaching a glass towards Scrooge, who reached back, only to have another guest take it.

The Spirit tapped Scrooge on the shoulder. "We have to go now," and he reached his robe towards Scrooge. "Take my robe."

Scrooge took it and the Spirit led them back through the wall and to the street. But they could still hear the merry voices and the sound of Janet playing the spinet again.

Scrooge gasped as he recognized the song. "Wait, Spirit! I need to hear. That was my sister's favorite song."

"Fan."

"Yes, of course, Fan."

The Spirit turned back, and they both looked in the window where Janet was playing the song as Fred stood next to her, smiling, turning the pages for her.

They stood outside, listening to the full song. Scrooge sighed as it ended, as the guests clapped.

"You should have accepted Fred's invitation to dine."

"What?"

"For Fan's sake, if not for yours."

"I should," he agreed. "I will."

The Spirit smiled, then insisted. "Come, we must go!"

It was at that moment that Scrooge noticed that the Spirit was growing suddenly older, his hair gray, his face wrinkled. "You have grown old, Spirit. Are spirits' lives so short?"

"My life on this globe is very short, as were those of my brothers who came before me. I believe that mine will end tonight."

"Tonight!"

"Tonight at midnight."

Scrooge remembered that the Ghost of Jacob Marley had told him that the third spirit would arrive at midnight. He had visited the past on Christmas Eve. He was visiting the present on Christmas Day. At midnight, Christmas Present would be ended. Would the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come be next?

The Spirit must have read his mind. "Yes, he will. When I leave, seek him and know him better, man!" and he laughed.

Suddenly more laughter poured from Fred's house. "Everyone!" exclaimed Fred's voice. "We must have a game. A word game!"

Everyone cried out their agreement.

"What shall it be?" Fred asked.

"Let us play Consequences!" cried Betsy. "Or Cupid's Coming!"

"No, no." insisted Mr. Bennett. "Dumb Cranbo!"

Scrooge stopped to look back at the window. "Games, Spirit." The Spirit turned to look at him. "Games. It has been so long since...probably not since old Fezziwig's Christmas parties." He looked again longingly at the window, then back at the Spirit. "We have until midnight. Is there not some time? Let us stay a little. Please."

The Spirit nodded, pleased, and led him back inside.

The guests were still deciding on what game to play.

"Blindman's Bluff," suggested Topper, leering at Betsy. "Let's play Blindman's Bluff."

"Oh, Mr. Topper!" squealed Betsy. "No!"

"Oh, let it be Similes," suggested one of the other guests, and everyone agreed.

"Does everyone know the rules of Similes?" asked Fred. "Oh, all right, everyone. You will have five seconds to answer. I will ask the question. Topper, you will keep count."

Topper nodded. "If Miss Betsy will help," and she nodded, twittering.

"I will ask you each a question. You shall have five seconds to answer. If you do not give an acceptable answer, you must stand behind your chair. The last one who is seated wins a prize."

"Fred, do not go on so," laughed his wife. "Just begin."

"I am sorry, my love; I shall." and he walked over to his sister-in-law. "Proud as a--"

"As proud as a peacock!" she cried haughtily, making everyone laugh as they congratulated her.

"Um, dry as--" Fred asked her husband.

"As a bone!" he declared and everyone cheered as Fred walked over to the Bennetts.

"Plump as--"

"My wife!" and everyone laughed, except his wife. He hugged her. "Sorry, my dear. Just a little joke." She smiled forgivingly at him as he thought out loud, "Um...plump as..."

Topper began counting. "One..." and Betsy joined in, "two..."

"A partridge!" and everyone cheered.

Fred walked over to another guest. "Quick as--"

"The wind!"

"No!" cried Fred.

Topper and Betsy began counting again. "One...two...three...four...five!"

"It is 'a wink', you idiot!" cried Scrooge, getting into the spirit of the game.

"Ebenezer! Sh!!" admonished the Spirit.

"You said they could neither see nor hear us."

The Spirit laughed at himself. "That is quite true. Oh, yes, it is. Sorry. Even I forget the regulations sometimes."

"Sh! I am trying to listen to the game," and the Spirit smiled.

Fred was walking over to Betsy. "Modest as--"

She smiled at Topper. "A maiden."

"No!" cried Fred.

"Well, I'm sure it's a well-known simile."

"Well, I was thinking modest as a violet, however, I will accept your answer."

Then Fred smiled at his wife, walking towards her. "Janet. Tight as--"

"Hmm. Tight as--"

"A drum!" declared Scrooge. "Anyone knows that."

Janet was still thinking.

"Tight as--" prompted Fred. "Come on, my love, you know it!"

"Not very bright, my nephew's wife," Scrooge told the Spirit, who shook his head at him.

"Tight as your Uncle Ebenezer's purse strings!" cried out Janet.

This brought much laughter from the group, but none from Fred. "Oh, Janet, that is quite wrong. Your time is up. You have lost, so you must stand behind your chair." As she rose, he continued, "Tight as a drum. That's what I was thinking of."

Scrooge nodded. "Good for you, Fred." Then he looked at the Spirit. "Boy has a head on his shoulders. And as for the laughter at my expense, I am inclined to overlook it in view of the general gaiety of the evening."

That made the Spirit smile as he realized that Scrooge had learned a lesson. "It is now passed time to leave this pleasant scene. We have one more visit to make before my time is done. Take hold of my robe."

Even as they left, they could still hear the game:

"Sly as--"

"A fox!"

"Red as--"

"Roses!"

"Yes! Silent as--"

"The night!"

"No!"

"Oh, I know--the grave!" and everything went black, and a cold wind began to blow, making Scrooge shiver.

"Where are we now?" Scrooge demanded. "I am certain I do not know this place."

"The name would mean nothing to you. It's a place like many in this world," and the Spirit led him towards a light, as he blessed the area.

Scrooge saw that they were going into a tunnel where many campfires glowed, and men, women and children, all emaciated and dressed in rags that barely covered them, huddled around the flames. The Spirit led him near one such fire. There a man dropped some wood on a fire that gave warmth to a woman and two young children, no older than Kathy and Tiny Tim Cratchit. The children held sticks to the fire.

"Do we got enough wood for the night?" asked the woman.

"Aye," replied the man. "It'll last through."

The woman checked the potatoes that were stabbed to the children's sticks. "Mary, Paul, they're cooked."

"They're too hot!" complained Paul.

"It'll be cold soon enough."

Mary looked up at her father. "Where'd you get these, Papa?"

"I didn't steal them if that's what you're saying."

"She didn't say that, Ben!" cried his wife.

"She should have some respect."

"Don't berate the girl!" Then she turned to her daughter and softly told her, "They fell from a cart into the road."

"Your father's no thief, girl." And he began to walk away. "Not yet." He now stood right in front of the Spirit and Scrooge, and Scrooge could see the hopeless desperation in his face.

"Why are these people out here?" Scrooge asked. "Men and women in rags; children eating scraps. There are institutions."

"Have you visited any of them?" asked the Spirit. "These institutions you speak of?"

"No! I am taxed for them. Is that not enough?"

"Is it?"

As Scrooge mulled that over, The woman walked up to her husband, so she was also now standing in front of Scrooge and the Spirit. "Ben, come back to the fire."

Ben raised his arms. "Look at these hands, Meg. They're hard hands. They've done hard work. I want to work. I want to have bread for my children. It's not right that there's no work."

"We're together, Ben. That's the important thing."

"I love you, Meg. I love the children. Tomorrow, take the children and go to the parish poorhouse."

"No! NO! I'd rather we all be drowned in the river than go to one of them places and be separated forever."

"Not forever. Just until I get work."

"NO! Ben, we're a family. We stay together. Come," and she took his shoulder and turned him back. "Come back to the fire. Come."

As they walked back, the Spirit looked down at Scrooge, smiling to see the almost-guilty look on his face.

"Why do you show me this?" Scrooge demanded. "What has it to do with me?"

The Spirit stood tall, towering over Scrooge. "ARE THEY NOT OF THE HUMAN RACE? LOOK HERE! BENEATH MY ROBE!"

He opened his robe to show two children, ragged, scrawny, wolfish, but humble, too. Where graceful youth should have filled out their features and touched them with fresh tints, a stale hand, like that of age, had pinched and twisted them and pulled them to shreds. Where angels might have sat, devils lurked and gazed out.

"LOOK UPON THESE, EBENEZER SCROOGE!" demanded the Spirit.

"What are they?"

"THEY ARE YOUR CHILDREN."

"What?! I have no child!"

"THEY ARE THE CHILDREN OF ALL WHO WALK THE EARTH UNSEEN. THEIR NAMES ARE IGNORANCE AND WANT. BEWARE OF THEM, FOR UPON THEIR BROW IS WRITTEN THE WORD 'DOOM'. THEY SPELL THE DOWNFALL OF YOU AND ALL WHO DENY THEIR EXISTENCE."

Scrooge shook his head in disbelief. "Have they no refuge, no resource?"

"ARE THERE NO WORKHOUSES? ARE THERE NO PRISONS?" and there was a sarcastic sneer in his voice.

Scrooge glared before saying, "Cover them. I do not wish to see them," as he begun to turn away.

"I THOUGHT AS MUCH," and he let his robe fall. "THEY ARE HIDDEN--BUT THEY LIVE. OH, THEY LIVE!"

Suddenly they heard chimes. The Spirit smiled. "WELL. THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO LEAVE YOU, EBENEZER SCROOGE."

"Leave me? Leave me here?"

"OH, YES!"

"Well...you cannot! Take me back to my bed!" he demanded.

The Spirit shook his head, laughing. "IT IS TOO LATE!"

"It's cold," pleaded Scrooge. "The place is strange. Do not leave me."

The Spirit just laughed as once more bright light shone forth, forcing Scrooge to close his eyes. When he opened them, the Spirit was no longer there; neither were Ben and Meg and their children or any of the others. All of the fires were cold and dark.

Scrooge was totally alone.

"Spirit!" he cried.

But only his own voice answered him. "Spirit, spirit, spirit."

"Come back!" shouted Scrooge.

"Back! Back! Back!"

"I wish to talk!"

"Talk! Talk! Talk!" and the echo seemed to taunt him.

Besides the echo, he was only answered by dripping water and the cold, whistling wind. "Perhaps I have made a mistake here and there," he admitted. "Talked too quickly about matters to which I gave no great thought. Very well, Spirit, we will have a give and take, come to some meeting of the minds! I-I-I am a reasonable man. SPIRIT!"

"Spirit! Spirit! Spirit!" taunted the echo.

"Have pity on me! Do not leave me!" But again only the dripping water and the whistling wind answered. Scrooge sat down in despair. "What have I done to be abandoned like this? What? What? WHAT?"

[Esmeralda]

Just then, the clock began tolling. Remembering that Jacob Marley had forecasted that the third Spirit would arrive when the clock struck midnight, Scrooge got up and began to run. He ran and ran, even as the clock continued to strike. As the last bell struck, he froze to a stop, beholding a tall, thin, solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, seeming to scatter gloom and mystery in the very air through which it stood.

The Spirit was wearing a deep garment, which concealed its face and form, and left nothing revealed, only two tiny pricks of light for eyes shining within the darkness of what should have been its face.

Although it was tall and stately, its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.

"Are you the third Spirit which Jacob Marley foretold would visit me?"

The upper portion of his garment was contracted for an instant in its fold, as if the Spirit had nodded its head.

"Then I am in the presence of the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come. am I not?"

Again the Spirit nodded its head.

"You are about to show me the shadows of things that have not yet happened, but will happen in the time before us. Is that so?"

This time the Spirit only stood there, unmoving.

"Spirit, I fear you more than any spector I have yet met. But I am prepared to follow and to learn with a thankful heart."

The Spirit merely stood there.

"Will you not speak to me?"

The Spirit merely put an arm around Scrooge and pointed off into the distance.

"Oh, yes, yes!" agreed Scrooge. "The night is waning fast. and it is precious time for me. Lead on, Spirit. Lead on."

As they began to walk, there was a bright flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Scrooge closed his eyes against the brightness. When he opened them it was onto a dark cold street, with rain mixed with snow pouring down, in front of a tall building.

"I know this place very well," said Scrooge, smiling with relief. "The Exchange, it's like a second home to me. Here gold is worshipped and profit is everything."

The Spirit pointed ahead where three gentlemen stood under umbrellas. They were chuckling gleefully.

"No, I do not know much about it either way," one of them said. "I only know that he is dead."

"When?"

"Last night, I believe."

"Wonder what he died of?"

"I thought he would never go," said the first gentleman, which brought more laughter from all of them.

"Well, I do not know or care why he is gone," said the third, a portly gentleman. "I would just like to know what he has done with his money."

"That's right!"

"Wouldn't we all!"

"Gave it to his company, I suppose. Who else would he give it to?" and they laughed.

"I just know he didn't give it to me!"

"Nor me!"

"Nor me!"

"It's likely to be to cheap funeral," commented the first. "I don't know a single soul who would go to it."

"I wouldn't mind going to it," said the third, to the others' shock. "If lunch is provided!" and that brought even more laughter. "I insist on being fed for the time I will waste," and that brought much glee.

"Speaking of lunch..." and the three gentlemen walked off.

Scrooge looked up at the Spirit. "I know some of those gentlemen, Spirit. Have they no respect for the dead?"

"I suppose we should go," they heard the first man say. "After all, we did considerable business together."

"Let's just say, we will think about it," laughed the second man as they walked away.

"Why was I privy to that conversation?" Scrooge asked the Spirit. "What purpose could it serve for me? And where am I? Why am I not in my appointed place? I'm always here at this time of the day."

But the Spirit did not answer. Instead there was another bright flash of lightning and another loud clap of thunder, causing Scrooge to close his eyes. When he opened them, he found himself in the midst of a crowd. They were all standing in front of his own office. There the man who had sold Bob Cratchit the tuppence bottle of toddy and whom Scrooge had vowed to kick out of his shop on Christmas Day if he did not pay his rent, stood on a ladder, dusting off the brass sign that said "Scrooge and Marley."

"There you are, my friends,” he told the others in his Cockney accent. "Shining as bright as the ugly thoughts the mere mention of the name 'Scrooge' brings to our minds. But not no more. Not after the wondrous thing he has done for all of us." Then he turned on the ladder, so he could face them all. "Ladies and gentlemen. We are gathered here today, because we are united by a common bond," and everyone cheered. "Namely our feelings of gratitude to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge!" and they cheered even louder. "I don't think any of us could ever hope to find the words to describe the true depth of our feeling towards him," and again they all cheered. "All right, my friends, all right!"

"That's Tom Jenkins!" cried Scrooge, walking towards him. "The toddy man. He owes me six pounds. I must say, he looks uncommonly happy for someone who is so deep in debt."

Scrooge kept walking, looking around him. "All of these people owe me. But they love me and I never knew!"

"Kindly hold down your emotions, if you please!" cried Tom. "Now we are all deeply moved. And those of us who have been in debt to Mr. S. over all these years will never forget what a rare and beautiful thing he has just done for us all, right?"

"RIGHT!" exclaimed everyone.

"Then three cheers for Mr. Scrooge!"

"YES!"

"Hip, hip"

"HOORAY!"

"What did I do?" asked Scrooge, forgetting they couldn't hear him.

"Hip, hip"

"HOORAY!"

"What did I do?"

"Hip, hip"

"HOORAY!"

By this point, Scrooge had reached the ladder, which Tom Jenkins had climbed down, and now stood in front.

"Whatever it was, it has made you all very happy, and I am the cause!" And climbing to the top of the ladder, he turned around to say, "My friends! I thank you from the bottom of my heart! I shall remember this moment until my dying day!"

And they all cheered. Not to Scrooge's speech, because, of course, they could not hear him, but because behind his back, Tom Jenkins was hanging a wreath upon the office door--the symbol of a death.

Then he led them in a loud, rousing chorus of "For he's a jolly good fellow," which Scrooge happily joined in.

Once they finished, Scrooge continued, "May I say in all humility...” and again they all cheered, because Tom Jenkins had just shown them Scrooge's infamous little black book and had torn out a bunch of pages.

"...I have labored unceasingly all my life..."

Again they cheered as more pages were ripped and thrown to the wind.

"...to be worthy of this moving demonstration of your feelings towards me."

And even louder cheers as Tom Jenkins ripped out two big handfuls and threw them to the wind, followed by the covers of the book.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried Tom Jenkins. "On behalf of all the people who have assembled here, I would merely like to mention if I may."

"YOU MAY!" and even Scrooge shouted it back.

"That our unanimous attitude is one of lasting gratitude for what our friend has done for us today! So we thank him most kindly for the nicest thing anyone has ever done for us!"

And again they all cheered as they walked off, once more singing "For he's a jolly good fellow."

"No, no, my dearest friends!" Scrooge cried after them. "It is I who should thank you!"

But as they walked away, he saw the Spirit, standing there, staring at him.

Scrooge froze in his spot. "I thank you for letting me see what these people think of me, Spirit, but I do not understand. What did I do to make these people so happy? And what does this have to do with the death that the men of business were talking about?"

Again the lightning flashed and the thunder blared.

When Scrooge opened his eyes, he found himself in a bedchamber, a bedchamber very much like his own. He found himself in front of a bed much like his own, but there were no bedcurtains hanging about the bed, no blankets, no nothing, just a sheet, covering a body.

"Merciful Heavens, what is this?" cried Scrooge. He began walking towards the bed. "Spirit. This is a fearful place. I wish to leave it."

Scrooge still had not realized that on these journeys with the Spirits, what he wished did not matter. There was a loud clap of thunder and the Spirit pointed at the bed.

Scrooge walked to the bed and began to reach towards the sheet where it covered what appeared to be the head. But when his hand was inches away, he pulled it back. "No, I will not. This you cannot make me do. I say I understand you. That is sufficient to the moment. Furthermore, there must be someone in this city who feels some emotion because of this man's death. I demand to see that person!"

This time Scrooge received his wish. Again there was thunder and lightning. When Scrooge opened his eyes, he was back out on the street in a dark, creepy part of the city, where bars and houses of ill-repute lined the street. The whole area reeked of crime, filth and misery. The snow poured down as a cold sleet.

"This is a most foul part of town! You must have made a mistake, Spirit; taken a wrong turn."

But the Spirit pointed at the doorway of a rundown building. Scrooge slowly walked towards it. He stopped at the doorway and looked back at the Spirit. "In there? I have no business to transact in there."

The Spirit merely continued to point, and Scrooge walked in. He entered a shop where iron, old rags, bottles and bones were bought. Sitting among the wares he dealt in was a gray-haired rascal, who smoked his pipe peacefully.

No sooner was Scrooge in the shop, than his very own housekeeper, Mrs. Dilber, whom he had inherited from Jacob Marley, slunk into the shop, carrying a large bundle. She had scarcely entered when Mrs. Riggs, a laundress, also one whose services Scrooge had employed, also came in. She was closely followed by Mr. Crump, the very undertaker one who had taken care of Jacob Marley. He was no less startled by the sight of them, than they had been upon seeing each other. After a short period of blank astonishment, they all burst out laughing.

"How's it going, Joe?" Mrs. Dilber asked.

Old Joe laughed. "So, back from the house of sadness, I see."

"Hmph," declared Mrs. Riggs. "Sad that he didn't die years ago, the old skinflint!"

"Well, let me see. What have you got for old Joe? What have you got for me to remember him by?"

"You won't ask how we come about these, will you, Joe?" asked Mrs. Dilber.

"Every person has a right to take care of himself," replied Old Joe. "That's my motto."

"Well, he always did," Mrs. Riggs pointed out, and they all cackled with glee.
.
"Yes, He did," agreed Old Joe.

"And who's the worse for the loss of a few things?" Mrs. Riggs asked. "Not a dead man, I suppose."

"No, indeed," agreed Old Joe.

"I mean, if he'd want to keep them after he was dead, the wicked old screw, why wasn't he more easy-like in his lifetime?" Mrs. Dilber asked.

"If he had been," said Mr. Crump, "He would've had someone to look after him when he was struck with death, instead of lying there, gasping out his last..alone..by himself."

"Yeah, Mr. Crump, that's true, but now all of you, open up your bags. I'm not about to pay fer goods unseen!"

"Undo my bundle first, Joe," said Mrs. Dilber, pushing it forward. "Tell me what the value is." As Old Joe began opening it, she added. "Now speak plain. I'm not afraid to go first. We knew pretty well we were helping ourselves before we met."

"It's no sin," Mrs. Riggs insisted.

"Only if we get caught," laughed Mr. Crump, and the others cackled, too, a sound that was like nails on a chalkboard to Scrooge's ears.

"No chance of that," said Mrs. Dilber. "Nobody cared what happened to him then or now. Open the bundle now, Joe."

"No, ladies," said Mr. Crump. "Mine first. It's the smallest." And he handled a small bundle to Old Joe, who opened it, slowly.

"Meager pickings, Mr. Crump. A pencil case. Two sleeve buttons"

"Mother of pearl," Mr. Crump pointed out.

"Yes, and a watch, of no great value." He held up the watch, listening to the clock's tick and to its chime.

Scrooge looked very carefully at that watch; it looked very familiar, very familiar indeed. "That's my watch! And those are my things! He has stolen my things! I will have him before a magistrate!"

"Seven shillings?" offered Old Joe.

"Done!" agreed Mr. Crump, and taking the money, he stepped back.

"Me next, Joe," said Mrs. Riggs, and she pushed the bundle towards him.

Old Joe set in on the floor, opened it, then began taking out its contents. "One sheet. Four towels. An old shirt. Ah, teaspoons! Sugar tongs! And an old pair of boots. In need of repair. Well, now." Standing up, he picked up a piece of chalk and began writing figures on the wall. "One pound, one shilling and, uh, eight pence, Mrs. Riggs."

"One pound, one shilling and eight pence!" she cried in disgust.

"I always give too much to the ladies," Old Joe told her. "It's a weakness of mine. If you ask for one penny more, I'll relent and knock off five shillings!"

So Mrs. Riggs reluctantly took her one pound, one shilling and eight pence.

"Those also looked like my things!" cried Scrooge. "This is an outrage!"

"Open my bundle, Joe!" demanded Mrs. Dilber.

Old Joe opened it and reached in to pull out, "Bedcurtains!"

"Bedcurtains!" agreed Mrs. Dilber, cackling evilly. "Rings and all!"

"You took them down with him lying there cold?" gasped Old Joe.

"I did it, and why not?"

"You were born to make a fortune, Mrs. Dilber."

"I don't hold my hand back when I can get something in it by reaching out. There are blankets in here, too."

Old Joe gasped. "His blankets! Why, Mrs. Dilber, they're still warm! I don't pay extra for the warmth, you now!"

"You should!" declared Mrs. Dilber. "It's the only warmth he ever had!" which caused wicked laughter from all of them.

"And those appear to be my blankets!" cried Scrooge. "And Mrs. Dilber is my housekeeper! I shall have her fired!"

Old Joe refused to touch the blankets. "I hope he didn't die of anything catching."

"Oh, don't be afraid of that. I wasn't so fond of his company that I'd loiter about him for anything like that, if he did!"

Last Old Joe drew a shirt out of the bag.

"Look at that shirt, Joe! Finest bit of silk you'll see in a month of Sundays." She laughed. "It would've been wasted if it wasn't for me."

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Crump. "Wasted?"

"Some fool put it on him to get buried in. So I took it off again. Calico's good enough for him!" and again they all cackled gleefully.

"No, they can not be mine!" cried Scrooge. "They look very much like mine, but they are not mine." Then he turned away from this dreadful scene. "I understand, Spirit. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way now. Merciful Heavens," and his voice began breaking up. "Let me see some tenderness connected with a death or I will be haunted by that terrible conversation forever."

Again the lightning shone and the thunder blasted.

This time when Scrooge opened his eyes, they were on a familiar street, standing by a familiar house.

"It's Bob Cratchit's house!” cried Scrooge in surprised delight. "Oh, yes, Spirit! Thank you for bringing me here!" Scrooge ran towards the house, then stopped. "It's so quiet. Why is it so quiet, Spirit?"

The Spirit pointed at the window.

Scrooge glared. "You are devilishly hard to have a conversation with." Then he walked over and looked in. There Emily Cratchit sat in a chair, attempting to mend a shirt. She was surrounded by all of her children, except Peter and Tiny Tim, whom Scrooge figured must be with his father again. Scrooge was surprised to hear sniffling from Emily Cratchit.

Close by, Peter sat at a table, a large book opened in front of him. "Suffer the little children to come onto me and forbid them not for such is the kingdom of God. Verily, I say unto you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein."

Martha looked up at her mother. "Oh, Mother, you are crying again."

Emily Cratchit looked up, her eyes red. "No, this color hurts my eyes." And she looked down, snuffling again, while the children also starting crying.

"No!" cried Scrooge. " No! Not Tiny Tim!"

Emily Cratchit took a deep breath and looked up again. "There now. Uh, this work makes my eyes get weak...in the dim light ...and I would not want to show weak eyes...to your father...when he gets home...for anything in the world. H-he should be back now."

"I think he is walking a little slower...these past...two...evenings," said Peter as he slowly closed the book.

"And yet," snuffled his mother. "I have seen him walk home with...with Tiny Tim on his shoulders very fast indeed."

"And so have I," said Martha.

"As have I," said Peter.

"And have I," said the twins in unison, while young Kathy simply nodded.

"He was very light to carry, and your father loved him so. It was no trouble." All of the children shook their heads in agreement, tears in their eyes. "No trouble at all."

Just then, the door opened and Bob Cratchit slowly walked in. "Hello, my dears. Merry Christmas."

The children quickly ran to their father. "Daddy!"

"Hello, girls. Hello, Peter."

Emily Cratchit also walked over and hugged him, "Go set the table, children." As they walked off, she turned to her husband. "How was the churchyard?"

"It will be lovely, Emily. It would have done you good to see how green the place is. You shall see it on Sunday." He looked at his children. "You shall all see it on Sunday. I...I promised him that every Sunday I would walk by." He buried his head in his wife's shoulder. "My little child. Oh, my little, little child," and weeping, he walked up the stairs.

The Spirit pointed up the stairs, so Scrooge followed Bob into a small bedroom. On a small bed lie Tiny Tim. Everywhere there were candles lit.

Bob sank to his knees and took his child's hand in his. "There, Tim. There, Tim," he said, patting Tim's hand. "Don't be afraid. We will always love you. Always." Leaning over, Bob kissed Tiny Tim's forehead, then slowly rose and walked back downstairs.

Scrooge stayed upstairs near Tim, his own heart breaking, before the Spirit pointed back down the stairs.

There Emily had an arm around her husband, leading him towards the fire, head down, sniffling again.

"Father," begged Peter, looking up from where he was helping Martha and the twins set the table. "Please do not grieve so."

"Oh, I'm sorry," as he picked up Kathy, settling his youngest living child on his lap as he sat on the chair by the fire. "I have all of you. A blessing to be thankful for." He then took a deep breath and told them all, "I-I picked a spot for Tim where he can see...Uh, it's a spot on the hill. And you can see...the ducks...on the river. Tiny...Tim..." and he began to choke up.

"Tiny Tim always loved watching the ducks on the river," Emily took over. Bob nodded and they both looked down, trying to hold back their tears.

Then Bob stood up, setting Kathy down and walked towards his only living son. "Do you know who I saw on the street today? Your employer, Peter--Mr. Scrooge's nephew, Fred. He greeted me in his usual cheerful way, and he saw that I was sad. He asked me what was distressing me, and do you know what he said?"

"What did he say?" asked Emily.

" 'I am heartily sorry for it, Bob, and heartily sorry for your good wife.' Then young Fred gives me his card and says 'That is where I live, Bob. Come and visit us.' I was grateful, not for anything that he would do for us, so much as his kindly ways. It really seemed as if he has known our Tim and felt for us."

"He sounds a good soul."

"You would be sure of it, if you met him, Emily. I am sure that we will never...forget...our Tiny Tim, will we?"

"No, Father," agreed all the children.

"And, uh," and he turned to poke at the fire.

Emily walked over to him. "Robert..." She hugged him, then turned back to her children. "Timmy is part of all of us. For his sake, we must go on living. So long as we love one another, he will always be alive."

"Of course you are correct, my dear."

Scrooge walked back to the Spirit, wiping tears from his own cheeks. "Oh, Spirit. Must there be a Christmas that brings this awful scene? How can we endure it?"

Then he heard Bob's sniffle. "It's all right, children."

Confused, Scrooge went back to the window, where he could see the Cratchits sitting around the table, all of the children looking unbelievingly at their father.

"Life is made up of meetings and partings. That is the way of it. I am sure we shall never forget poor Tiny Tim or this first parting that there was among us." And as they all began to cry again, they all turned to look at the lonely crutch, carefully preserved, lying on the little chair next to the fire.

Scrooge turned to look at the Spirit. "I asked for tenderness and depth of feeling. and you have shown me this." He shook his head. "Nothing more I need to see. Take me home."

Again the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled.

When Scrooge opened his eyes, he saw that once more, his wish to return home had been denied. He was in the middle of a dark, lonely churchyard, perhaps the one where Tiny Tim would soon rest.

Thunder continued to crash, while the snow continued to fall, now in huge clumps.

"What is this?" he asked. "I thought we agreed that you would transport me home."

The Spirit began walking, pointing towards the other side of the churchyard. "Spirit, must we come to this place?" The Spirit kept walking. "There is something else that I must know. Is that not true?" The Spirit kept walking. "Spirit, I know what I must ask. I fear to...but I must. Tell me, what man was that whom we saw lying dead? Who was the wretched man whose death brought so much glee and happiness to others?"

The Spirit pointed at a tombstone, covered in snow.

Scrooge began walking towards it, then stopped and turned to look back at the Spirit. "Answer me one more question--Are these the shadows of things that will be or are they the shadows of things that may be only?"

He was only answered by the howling wind and the rumbling thunder and the Spirit pointing at the tombstone.

Again Scrooge began to walk towards it, but then again he turned back, now his voice breaking up. "Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends. I..I accept that now. But if those courses be departed from, the ends must change. Tell me that is so by what you and the other Spirits have shown me. Tell me that these events can be changed...A life can be made right...” But the thunder merely crashed and the Spirit merely pointed.

Now Scrooge walked to the tombstone and knelt down on the snow-covered grave. Wiping away the snow, he uncovered his own name. He gasped in horror and began to cry. "Ebenezer Scrooge! Oh, please, Spirit, no! Hear me! I-I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for these visitations."

He stood up and turned to look at the Spirit, tears turning into icicles on his cheeks. "Why would you show me this if I were past all hope? I-I will honor Christmas and try to keep it all the year."

Crying harder, the tears rolling down his cheeks he walked to the Spirit, grabbing his arm. "I will live my life in the past, present and future. I will not shut out the lessons the Spirits have taught me. The spirits of all three shall strive within me."

Now he sank to his knees, grabbing the Spirit's robe. "Oh, Spirit, please speak comfort to me! Say that I may change these things with an altered life. Tell me that I may sponge out the writing on this stone!"

But the robe slipped away from Scrooge's hand as he heard a roaring sound behind him. When he looked behind, he saw that the stone of the grave was now gone and a yawning, deep, dark hole was there instead. Yelling in fear, he turned to the Spirit for help, but the hood of its robe was now pushed back and its skeleton face could be seen. Now Scrooge screamed in terror, but the Spirit's skeleton hand reached from the robe and shoved Scrooge into the hole.

[Esmeralda]

Scrooge fell and kept falling and falling and falling, screaming in horrified fear as he did. As he fell, he could see the black of the rock of the earth and when he tumbled, he could see he was falling towards a bright red light. Suddenly the dark black of the hole turned fiery-red and he landed with a loud thump.

When he opened his eyes, he was first surprised to discover that he was still aware of himself and then more surprised to see that he was lying in a shallow bright-red hole, shaped like a coffin.

He slowly sat up, sniffing as he did, since the air was thick and smelled smoky. He slowly stood up and got out of the hole, still sniffing, trying to decide what it was he smelled.

When he looked around, he saw that he was in a deep cavern, also red in color, but not glowing as his hole had. Walking around, he came to a tall column of red rock. When he touched it, it sizzled and he screamed when it burnt his hand. He shook it and blew on it, but could find no way to stop the burning pain. He continued to walk around, still trying to make sense out of what had happened to him.

"AH! SO THERE YOU ARE!"

The voice was deep and spooky, the way he imagined the Spirit's voice would sound. But when Scrooge turned towards the source, he saw a different Spirit, but one he had seen before--the Ghost of Jacob Marley, still wrapped in his chains!

"Marley!" cried Scrooge. He ran to his old partner. "Where am I?"

"I should have thought it was obvious. I heard you were coming down today, so I thought I would come to greet you, show you to your quarters," and he indicated a long, reddish-orange hallway behind him. "Nobody else wanted to."

Marley began to run down the hall, his chains jangling, so Scrooge chased him. "That's very civil of you, Marley." Then he had to ask, "I am dead, am I not?"

"As a coffin nail," laughed Marley.

"I had rather hoped I would end up in Heaven."

"Did you indeed? You may find your office here rather small, but not, I trust, unfamiliar."

"Office?"

"Your activities in life were so pleasing to Lucifer," and Marley bowed in adoration as he said the unholy name, "that he has appointed you to be his personal clerk, a singular honor. You will be to him, so to speak, what Bob Cratchit was to you."

"That is not fair! It's--It's--”

"Diabolical," Marley finished for him. "I must confess I find it not altogether unamusing."

Scrooge turned away, as if to run, but Marley grabbed him and dragged him around a corner, where they reached a door with a window close by. Inside, everything was white. "Here we are, my dear Ebenezer." He rang a door bell, then opened the door. "Your office for eternity."

He walked in, then beckoned Scrooge to follow him.

Once Scrooge entered the office, he began shivering. It looked exactly like his own office, except everything was covered with ice and snow. A cold wind blew through the office. "It-It's-s-s fr-freezing c-c-cold in here."

"Lucifer," and again Marley bowed in adoration. "turned the heat off. He thought it might make you drowsy. You will be the only man in Hell who is chilly." Marley laughed, then began to walk out, only to turn back. "Watch out for the rats. They nibble things," and he left, closing the door behind him.

"Rats?" yelped Scrooge in fear, turning to look around, then screaming when he saw the huge rodents the size of cats running across the floor.

"Oh," and the door opened to let Marley back in. "I almost forgot." and he tapped his head. "I knew there was something. They apologize that your chain was not ready for your arrival. It's so big they had to take on extra devils at the foundry to finish it. It's even bigger than I thought it would be."

Suddenly they could hear a loud clanking noise, getting closer and closer. Marley took a peek down the hall, then looked back, giggling in joy, "Oh, here it is now."

And in walked a tall, hulking, sweating man, dressed only in black pants, a black hood over his head, looking much like an executioner. But rather than an axe, over his shoulder was a giant double chain, each link the size of his head. He was followed by another man, dressed just the same, carrying another portion of the chain, followed by another and then yet another!

They began wrapping the chain around Scrooge, chaining him to the frozen desk that looked so much like Bob Cratchit's. "Don't let them do this to me, Marley!" he cried. "I beg you!"

But Marley just stood in the door watching, as they kept walking around and around Scrooge, continuing to wrap the chain tightly around him. Soon his full body was enchained, so Marley could only see Scrooge's head and one of his arms, as he tried to loosen the chain that was now throttling his throat. The demons locked the chain in place and then left.

Marley, still standing in the door, laughed. "That is quite a chain, is it not?"

"Help me!" Scrooge pleaded. "Help me!"

Marley laughed. "Bah, humbug!" and he closed the door, waving as he did. "Merry Christmas, Ebenezer!"

"Don't leave me, Marley!" begged Scrooge. "Please don't leave me! Help! Help! Somebody help!" He kept crying out, "Help! Help! Help!" but only the jangle of that giant chain and the howl of the wind and the squeals of the rats answered him. He closed his eyes, still crying out his plea.

When he opened his eyes, still yelling, "Help, help, help!" he realized that the chains were much softer. Looking down he was surprised to see that they looked more like sheets, his sheets, now twisted and wrapped around his throat, chaining him to his own bedpost! "Where am I?" he asked, confused.

He looked around, his eyes growing large in amazement. "I'm in my own room! I'm not in Hell at all! I have not got any chains!" and he quickly unwrapped the sheet from around his throat. "Perhaps I only dreamed it. Perhaps it did not happen after all!"

He stared at his bedpost and remembered being chained to that cold desk. "Perhaps it did. But I am alive. I'm alive! Jacob Marley and Christmas be praised!" and he fell to his knees. "I say it on my knees, Jacob, on my knees."

Then he jumped up onto his bed and grabbed his bedcurtains. "Oh, they are here! They are not torn down, rings and all! They are here!" and feeling his face, he cried, "And I am here! The shadows of the things that would have been can be dispelled! And they will! They will be! I know they will!"

Suddenly he opened his mouth, trying to make a certain sound. But it would not come up. He tried harder and harder, soon choking, but that is not the noise he was trying to make. Now the choke sounded a little more like a chuckle. Now it sounded even more like a chuckle. Now it truly sounded like a real chuckle, the first one he'd uttered in years. Now it became a real live belly laugh, as he laughed and laughed and laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I don't know what day it is. I don't know how long I have been with the Spirits. I don't know anything! But I do know that I have got a chance to change, and I will not be the man I was. I'll begin again! I'll rebuild my life. I will live to know I fulfilled my life. I will begin today," and he began standing, climbing up the bedpost as he did. "Throw away the past. And the future I build will be something that will last!"

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Grabbing his blankets and wrapping them around himself, he opened the door to find Mrs. Dilber.

"Good morning, sir," she said, as she came in and began pouring his coffee, as she did every morning.

"Tell me. What day is it?"

"What day? Why it's Christmas Day, of course, sir. Christmas Day!"

"Christmas Day? Christmas Day! Then I have not missed it. The Spirits must have done everything in one night! But, of course, they can do anything, can't they? Of course they can!"

And laughing, he ran to the window to look out, then ran to the mirror, laughing even harder at his reflection.

Mrs. Dilber, who was following him, staring at him in disbelief, asked, "Are you quite yourself, sir?"

"What? I do not know. No, I-I don't think so. I hope not!"

"What?!"

He ran to his bed. "You did not tear down my bedcurtains and sell them! They are still here!"

"Huh? What do you mean, sir?"

But Scrooge was not listening. "They are here. Everything is here. I am here!" and laughing even harder, he cried out, "I-I-I do not know what to do! It's a miracle! I'm as light as a feather!" and he jumped around happily. "I'm as happy as a...I am as happy as an angel!" and he began skipping around. "I'm as merry as a school boy!" and holding his head. "I'm as giddy...I'm as giddy as a drunken man, I never..." and turning around, he found himself facing the mirror again, so he wished himself, "A Merry Christmas, Ebenezer, you old humbug!" while Mrs. Dilber stared at him as if he had lost all of his senses. He started to walk away from the mirror, but then came back to say. "And a Happy New Year! As if you deserve it!"

Then he grabbed Mrs. Dilber's hands, making her scream in fear, as he told her, "A Merry Christmas, Mrs. Dilber!"

"Same to you, sir!"

"Well, thank you, thank you, thank you!" he cried, jumping up and down as he said it, making her do the same. "And many, many more of them!" as now she screeched in terror.

He was not listening. Instead he ran into the next room. "Look, Mrs. Dilber! There in the corner is where the Spirit of Christmas Present sat! And there is the door where the Ghost of Jacob Marley came through. And there is the window where I saw the wandering spirits. It's right! It's true! It all happened! I never did know anything." And laughing, he added, "But now I know that I did not know anything!" And laughing harder, he jumped up and down again, then began dancing around, chanting, "I do not know anything! I do not know anything! I never did know anything! But now I know that I do not know all the Christmas morning! I must stand on my head! I must stand on my head!" and going to the chair, he stood on his head on the seat of the chair!

That was much too much for poor Mrs. Dilber. Screaming in terror, she threw her apron over her head and ran out the door!

"Come back!" cried Scrooge as he chased her. "Come back!"

Still screaming, she ran down the stairs while he chased her, still begging her to come back. He finally caught up to her halfway down the stairs. Grabbing her, he sat down on the stairs, bringing her down with him, while she screamed still louder. "Sh, please, Mrs. Dilber. I am not mad. Even if I was..." and reaching up, he fluffed his hair and looked at her cross-eyed.

She screamed even louder, now terrified, as she begged, "Don't be violent, Mr. Scrooge. You'll force me to scream for the beadle!"

"The beadle, madam?" Scrooge asked. "A fig for the beadle!" and reaching under his nightshirt, he brought out the drawbag he wore around his neck. Opening it, he handed her something.

"A guinea?" she asked. "Here, what for?"

"I will give you one guess."

"To keep my mouth shut?"

"What?" Then he began laughing again. "To keep your mouth shut? Oh, no! No, no, no, Mrs. Dilber. It's for a Christmas present."

"A Christmas present? For me?"

"Of course, for you! A merry, Merry Christmas," and he kissed her on the forehead. "Dear Mrs. Dilber. How much do I pay you?"

"Two shillings a week."

"Two shillings? It is forthwith raised to ten!"

"Ten shillings a week, here? You sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"A doctor? Certainly not! Nor the undertaker! Ha! Now off you go and enjoy yourself. Like a good girl."

"Bob's your uncle!" she cried in delight. Then laughing herself, she ran down the rest of the stairs, only to turn back and say, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Scrooge! In keeping with the situation!"

"Oh, very well, then!" and as she ran off, he ran back into his rooms, where he could now hear the bells ringing. At the sound of the bells, he threw open the window and stuck his head out. "No fog. No mist. Clear! Bright! Cold!" and he shivered, tightening his robe around him. "Cold. Piping for the blood to dance to." And looking out, he saw a boy pulling a sled.

"Hello, my fine young fellow."

"Hello."

"Do you know the butchers in the next street but one?"

"I should hope so."

"What a remarkable boy! An intelligent boy! Do you happen to know if they have sold the prized turkey that was hanging up in the window? Not the big one, the enormous one?"

"What? You mean the one that's as big as me?"

"What a wonderful boy! So witty! It's a pleasure to talk to him! Yes, that's the one!" as again he began pulling the bag that hung around his neck.

"It's still there!"

"It is?! Go and buy it!"

"Forget it!"

Scrooge opened the bag and threw down some coins. "No, my fine fellow, I am quite serious. There are two sovereigns. Go and wake up the butcher and tell him to open his shop. Meet me there in ten minutes. Be holding that turkey and I will give you half a crown! Go on! Run!" and the boy darted off, with Scrooge exhorting him to run faster.

Scrooge laughed as the boy turned a corner out of view. "Oh, what a lovely boy! I think I'm going to like children!"

He pulled his head back in, then ran to the fireplace and looked up it, crying, "Oh, Jacob Marley, wherever you are! You shall see a change in me, Jacob! I swear it!" and then throwing some clothes on, he ran out the door, leaping in the air as he ran out the hall, then he leaped onto the stairwell and slid down it, something he had not done since he was just a lad at the boarding school, screaming in glee as he did.

Then he hurried himself off to the poultry shop just as quickly as he could.

"Here's the man," the boy told Scrooge as he pointed to the butcher. "And there's the turkey. Now where's my half-a-crown?"

"Now that is what I call a turkey!" Scrooge declared as the butcher set the large bird on the boy's sled. "It's twice the size of Tiny Tim! And here is your half-a-crown," as he handed it to the boy. "Now, come on, dear boy! Let us go and open the toy shop!" and he ran to the front of the sled, grabbing the rope, motioning the boy to sit on the sled, and he ran off, pulling the sled, crying out, "Thank you! Merry Christmas!" to the surprised, amazed butcher and his wife.

Soon Scrooge and the boy were inside the same toy shop whose window Tiny Tim had pressed his nose against just the evening before. "I'll take that doll," Scrooge decided, "and that one," pointing to another one, "and some bow and arrows and that fishing pole and some of those toy soldiers and then some flutes and some trumpets and, oh, yes, I must have a cricket bat and ball! And, yes, that merry-go-round!"

Scrooge kept finding more and more items, adding them to the stack in the toymaker's arms. Finally he asked, "And how much is all of that?" The man tried to calculate it, but could not with his arms full.

Scrooge did not care. "Oh, never mind. Here are some sovereigns, and you can keep the change!"

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Scrooge! Now I may pay you my rent!"

"Oh, do not worry about that! Don't worry about that until at least next month!"

"Well, thank you very, very much, Mr. Scrooge!"

"And I shall require the services of several small boys to help transport these delightful objects to their destination. And each boy shall receive half-a-crown!" He turned to the boy,who he now recognized as one of the boys who were part of the snowball fight that had meant the destruction of his hat. "The same goes with those friends of yours!"

"Yes, sir! Watch the turkey, while I run to find them!" and the boy darted off.

Then the toymaker had to ask. "Mr. Scrooge? What has happened?"

"Well, what has happened, it's perfectly simple, Mr. Pringle. I have discovered that I like life and life likes me! And I love Christmas!"

Soon Scrooge was surround by a bunch of happy boys, each with a half-crown in his pocket and each holding a bunch of Scrooge's purchases. On the turkey was another label, this one included the address of the Cratchits.

"All right!" cried Scrooge. "And we're off!" and down the street they went, singing Christmas carols and having a grand old time.

They stopped off at the wine shop, where Scrooge brought a bunch of bottles, handing them out to everyone he saw. Then they ran into a bunch of children sliding on a patch of ice. "Oh!"cried Scrooge. "Let me! Let me!" and he ran and slid down the ice, with all of the children laughing merrily, laughing even harder when he ran into the bunch of them and pushed them all down, landing on top of them. But they helped him up and picked up the purchases, as they continued on their merry way.

Soon they ran into a bunch of men who were dancing as they played their pipes. Of course, Scrooge had to join in and dance along, while everyone clapped in time.

Then Scrooge spot something in a different window. It was a Father Christmas costume. Scrooge knew what he had to do. Soon he was dressed in the costume, having the boys throw all of his purchases into his bag before he began happily throwing them out again back to the boys who had helped him and the other children who had followed. Then he flung the sack onto his back and hopped on the sled next to the turkey. With the boys as reindeers, he was soon flying along the street on his way.

Soon he was standing in front in of Bob Cratchit's house. At the window, all of the Cratchit children were staring in awe. "Father Christmas" laughed as he tapped on the window, then opened the door. "Merry Christmas to you, sir," he told Bob Cratchit. "From Father Christmas himself!"

Just then Emily Cratchit walked up, holding the platter with the goose. She screamed in shock and dropped the goose. "Oh, dear!"

"Don't worry about your goose, Mrs. Cratchit," "Father Christmas" told her. "You can use it as stuffing for this!" and reaching behind him, he brought forth the prize turkey, which he handed to the very shocked Bob Cratchit.

"Now where are those other presents?" he asked his helpers. As they handed them to him, he handed them to the Cratchit children. "This dolly is for you, my dear," he told Belinda. "And this one that looks just like her is for you," and he handed that one to Bettina. "And this pretty little dolly is for you," he told Kathy.

"It's the dolly in the toy shop!" cried little Kathy. "The one I've always wanted!"

"Father Christmas" laughed. "Yes it is. And this muff will keep you warm at that workshop!" he told Martha, and she cried out in delight.

"And this bat and ball is for you!" as he handed them to Peter, who grabbed the bat and began swinging it with gusto.

Meanwhile, Tiny Tim stood by his siblings, smiling happily as each received a gift.

"And these, Bob Cratchit, are for you and your good lady!" as he handed a bottle of wine and some wrapped presents to Emily Cratchit.

"I must leave you now," he told them. "As you can imagine, it's a busy day for me and I have many calls to make." As he spoke, Tiny Tim's pale little face fell.

"Father Christmas" began going out the door, and Tiny Tim looked ready to cry, but "Father Christmas" was back. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He was holding the carousel, which he sat down next to the now-beaming boy. "This is for you, Tiny Tim!"

Tiny Tim looked it over, then looked up, "You didn't steal it, did you?"

"Father Christmas" laughed as he knelt down next to the sick little boy. "No, I didn't steal it. It's a present for you to keep!" and he stood up, lifting the boy in his arms as he did. "A Merry Christmas to you, Tiny Tim!"

"Oh, yes!" cried the boy. "God bless us!"

And both he and "Father Christmas" declared, "Yes, God bless us, every one!"

Then setting the boy down, "Father Christmas" said, "May this be the Merriest Christmas of all our lives!"

As he began to walk out, Bob asked, "But, sir, truly, who sent all these wonderful things?"

"Father Christmas" smiled. "He wishes to remain anonymous. Merry Christmas, one and all!" and off he went.

Bob turned back to his family.

"Anonymous, he says," and Emily Cratchit shook her head. "Who could have sent it?"

"I have no idea," replied Bob.

"It's a mistake," insisted Peter.

"That's what I thought," Bob agreed.

"But look," exclaimed Martha. "There's a label on the turkey and it has our name and address on it!"

"I think I know who sent it," said Tiny Tim.

"Who?" asked the rest of his family.

"Mr. Scrooge," he replied with a smile. "I think that was Mr. Scrooge!"

"Oh, dear; oh, dear!" cried his mother. "Whatever made you think it might be him?"

"I don't know," admitted the small boy. "I just think it."

"What would make Mr. Scrooge take such leave of his senses suddenly?" asked his father.

Tiny Tim looked up and smiled. "Christmas."

"No," insisted Bob. "Mr. Scrooge thinks Christmas is a humbug. It could not have been him," and Tiny Tim simply smiled.

"What shall we do with the turkey?" asked Bettina.

Emily Cratchit grinned. "I say we cook it and eat it and have the best Christmas feast we have ever had in our lives!"

"And I say, Mrs. Cratchit," declared Bob. "What a splendid idea!"

"And God bless us all!" added Tiny Tim. "Every one!"

His family looked back at him. "And God bless us all, every one!"

[Esmeralda]

Meanwhile "Father Christmas" was not done. He wandered back to the middle of Camden Town, where just the previous evening, he was telling all of the shopkeepers that they would have to pay their rent the next day or be thrown out of their shops.
Taking off the cap and the beard, so they would certainly know it was him, he cried out, "Tom Jenkins! Tom Jenkins! About that six pounds you owe me!"

The toddy man looked very frightened. "You agreed to give me a couple more days, Mr. Scrooge! I just need--"

"You can keep it!" Scrooge called out. "It's my Christmas present to you!"

Tom grabbed Scrooge's hand, shaking it joyfully. "God bless you this Christmas day, Mr. Scrooge! Thank you very much! It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!" and everyone cheered.

And taking out his little black book, Scrooge hopped up on a bench and began ripping out pages. "And that goes for anyone else who owes me money! You can keep it! As of this day, all my debts are ended!" and he began ripping up pages and throwing them in the air like confetti, finally throwing the book itself away.

Now everyone cheered as they began singing, "For he's a jolly good fellow," while Scrooge sang right along with them.

After everyone had shook his hand and thanked him and wished him Merry Christmas, Scrooge told them that he had other places to visit. First he headed for home, still singing "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow," not feeling like he had the right to feel as good as he did, but glad that he was feeling it anyway.

When he reached his own door, he told the knocker, "Hello" as he polished it. "I do not know whether you can hear me, old Jacob Marley, and I do not know whether or not I imagined the things I saw, but between the pair of us," and he reached in his pocket to find the Father Christmas hat inside it. "we...we finally made a merry Christmas, didn't we?" and he set the hat on the knocker-lion's head, then bringing out the beard from another pocket, he set that on the lion, too. "I have to leave you now. I am hoping to have dinner with my family. I must get ready."

And a few minutes later, now dressed in his very finest, Scrooge appeared back on the streets of the city to wish Merry Christmas to all the world. Everyone was out and about on this fine Christmas morning.

As he walked along, he found some children building a snowman. "A fine snowman!" he complimented them. A fine snowman, indeed!" As he walked away, the children picked up some snowballs and threw it at Scrooge, so Scrooge grabbed the snowballs and threw them right back! "Ha! Ha! Gotcha!" he cried in delight as they ran back to their snowman.

As he kept walking, growing closer to his nephew Fred's home, he could hear the church bells and hear people singing, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."

Following the sound, he was soon in church, the first time in decades. After the usher gestured him to remove his hat, a practice Scrooge had long forgotten, the usher led him to a pew. There a woman gladly shared her songbook and he happily, loudly, lustily, sang along: "To save us all from Satan's power, when we had gone astray! Oh, tidings of comfort and joy!"

Oh, yes, thought Scrooge. Oh, yes! and he put another sovereign into the collection plate.

Afterwards, he wished everyone Merry Christmas, thanked the parson for the fine sermon, then put some coins in the cups of the children singing carols on the church step. "Like angels," he complimented them. "Yes, you sing excellently well."

"Thank you, sir!" one of them said. "Merry Christmas, sir!"

"No, it is I who thanks you for that glorious music on this glorious Christmas Day," and he continued on his way, wishing Merry Christmas to everyone he met and cheerfully receiving wishes in return.

Then he saw two familiar faces, the gentlemen whom he had seen the previous day. "Oh, gentlemen! Merry Christmas to you."

"Mr. Scrooge?" asked the short one, making it sound as if he were eating a piece of very sour fruit, while the taller one glared at him.

"Yes, that is my name. I feel it's not pleasant to you. Allow me to beg your pardons and please accept my pledge for the poor and needy for, uh," and he whispered an amount into the short one's ear.

"Lord bless me!" he cried in happy surprise, as he whispered the amount to his companion, before turning back to Scrooge. "My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you quite serious?"

Scrooge nodded. "And not a farthing less. There's a great many back payments in that, I assure you."

"What can I say to such generosity? I just wish there was something we could give you."

Then the taller one reached up and took the bright red scarf from his neck and offered it to Scrooge.

"A gift?" he asked and the man nodded.. "A gift for me?" and again he nodded as he handed it to Scrooge. Scrooge wrapped it around his neck, looking down to see how it brightened his outfit and made it complete. "Thank you. Thank you fifty times. And a Merry Christmas!" and they returned the greeting, while Scrooge continued on, now a merry jaunt to his step.

As he drew near the house again, he could hear his niece-in-law playing the piano, while everyone was singing, "Dreadfully Shy", which Scrooge was certain Topper was singing to lovely Miss Betsy with that certain gleam in his eyes, that would make everyone laugh. He stood, listening, longing to go in and be part of the warmth and the joy and the laughter, but not certain if he would be welcomed. Much like the song, he also felt very shy, and he began walking past the door.

But then he could hear the voice of the Spirit of Christmas Present: "You should have accepted Fred's invitation to dine. For Fan's sake, if not for yours."

Turning around, he said aloud, "For you, dear little Fan," and he ran to the door before he could change his mind and tapped his cane on the door. A maid opened it and let him in, where he could hear the singing coming from the parlor. Taking off his scarf and his hat and his coat and handing them to the maid, he slowly walked to the door of the parlor. He started to open the door, but then stopped and turned around. The maid, who was watching him, nodded encouragingly. So he slowly opened the door.

They continued to sing until they heard the door open and looked up. Suddenly there was a shocked silence in the room.

Jumping up, Fred ran to his uncle. "Uncle Ebenezer!"

"Is it too late to accept your invitation to dinner? Will you have me, Fred?"

"Well, bless my soul! Of course, we will!"

And walking up to Janet, he asked, "And you, my dear, can you forgive a stupid old man who does not want to be left out in the cold anymore? Will you take me in?"

She stood up, looking at him carefully, then finally smiling, she kissed him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Uncle!"

"May I speak with you, Fred? With you and your lovely wife?"

"Of course," replied Janet. "Mrs. Bennett, please keep playing. The rest of you, please continue to make merry. We shall return shortly," and she and Fred led Scrooge into the living room.

There, Fred made the proper introduction. "Janet, this is my Uncle Ebenezer Scrooge. Uncle Ebenezer, this is my wife, Janet."

"A pleasure," smiled Janet.

"A pleasure?" asked Scrooge. "More like a surprise, wouldn't you say?"

She smiled. "Well, that, too."

"Yes, it's that," agreed Fred. "When we spoke yesterday, you made it quite clear, it seemed to me, at least, that you had no intention of accepting my annual invitation."

"I made other things clear, too, didn't I, Fred? That Christmas is a humbug, a waste of time and money, a false and commercial festival devoutly to be ignored."

"Yes, basically, that was it."

"I come for three reasons, Fred. First, to beg your pardon for the things I said about Christmas. That was a humbug, Fred."

"Was it?"

"Yes. I did not know it then, but I know it now. Secondly, I have come to meet your wife."

"Well, here she is," and Janet smiled.

"Yes. And a beautiful woman she is, too."

Janet blushed. "Thank you."

"I, uh, I was in love once. Would you believe that?" he asked her.

She looked at him carefully. "Yes. Yes, Uncle Ebenezer, I would."

"But I possessed neither the courage nor the optimism, perhaps the depth of feelings that you two have. Thirdly, if the invitation to dine with you today is still in force, I accept."

"Of course, it's still in force!" cried Fred. "Hoorah! I was sure that one day--"

"You were sure that one day I would accept, were you? Well, apparently, you were correct. Yes, I should liked to dine with you and your friends."

"You will be more than welcomed," smiled Janet. "Come and meet our other guests!"

"You like games, do you?" Scrooge asked her.

She gave him a strange look, then smiled. "Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Do you ever play Similes?"

Again she smiled. "It's one of our favorites."

"Perhaps we can play today."

She nodded. "Quite possibly."

"I am very good at it. And should the phrase 'tight as' be thrown out, the answer is 'a drum'."

She looked at him strangely before laughing. "Why, yes, so it is."

Then he turned back to Fred. "Forgive me for saying this, but I see the shadow of my sister in your face. I loved your mother, Fred. For a time there, I..I forgot just how much I loved her. Perhaps I chose to forget."

"But you don't forget now, Uncle. Come, let us introduce you to our guests!"

"You have made us so very happy, Uncle Ebenezer!" declared Janet.

"Have I?"

"Yes," replied Fred.

He put an arm around both of them as they headed back towards the parlor. "God forgive me for the time I have wasted."

Janet looked at Fred. "Shall we tell him?"

Fred smiled. "Yes, we shall. Uncle Ebenezer, we will have a very, very small surprise for you before next summer is over."

Scrooge's eyes grew large as he caught Fred's meaning. "Will I indeed? Well, I shall be a great-uncle--a very great great-uncle!" and they all laughed.

Once they walked into the parlor and Fred proudly introduced his uncle to all of his guests, Topper cried out to Mrs. Bennett at the piano, "Polka, Mrs. Bennett! Polka!" and as she began playing it, Janet grabbed her new-found uncle and began dancing around with him.

"Bravo, Uncle Ebenezer! Bravo!" cried Fred. "Now everybody!" and soon everyone was dancing, no one more happily than Ebenezer Scrooge.

The next morning, Scrooge just barely beat Bob Cratchit to the office. Quickly taking off his outer garments, he ran to his desk and tried to look busy, still looking like a young child getting ready to play a trick on his mates. "Nine o'clock," he laughed to himself. "Late again, Cratchit! Well, we will see about that!"

No sooner was he at his desk, than Bob, panting from over-exertion as he had run as fast as he could to try to make it on time, came sneaking in through the door.

A sly grin on his face, Scrooge put his own head down and pretended to work.

Bob slowly and quietly took off his hat and scarf and put them on the coatrack, while Scrooge kept taking sly glances. He waited until Bob tried girl thingy-footing over to his desk before yelling, "CRATCHIT! YOU'RE LATE!"

"Sir?"

Keeping his head down to hide his grin, Scrooge roared, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY COMING IN HERE THIS TIME OF DAY?"

"I am very, very sorry, sir. I am behind in my time, sir."

"YOU ARE INDEED! STEP THIS WAY, MR. CRATCHIT!"

And very slowly, Bob walked, pleading, "It's only once a year, sir. It will not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."

Scrooge laughed. "I am sure you were. Well, WE WILL NOT BEAT ABOUT THE BUSH," and he looked up. "I AM NOT GOING TO PUT UP WITH THIS ANY MORE! I HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE," and Bob held his breath in fear. "BUT TO DOUBLE YOUR SALARY!" and he roared in laughter at his own joke.

Bob jumped back, picking up the poker from the fireplace, poking at Scrooge, as if to defend himself from this madman.

Scrooge held up his hands. "Oh, I have not taken leave of my senses, Bob. I have come to them. I will double your salary and from now on, I want to try to help you to raise that family of yours. If you will let me. And to start with, we will find the right doctor to get Tiny Tim well. And we will make him well, won't we, Bob?"

"Oh, yes, sir! I believe you! Today I will believe anything!"

Scrooge laughed. "Well, we shall talk it over later, Bob, over a bowl of hot punch, hmm?"

Bob nodded, a huge still-not-quite-believing smile on his still-pale face.

"Meanwhile, you just go and put some coal on that fire before we both freeze! You go straight out and buy a new coal scuttle. Yes, you do that before you dot another 'i', Bob Cratchit!" and he continued to laugh as Bob ran out of the office.

Scrooge continued laughing, before he declared. "Oh, I don't deserve to be so happy. But I can not help it!" and throwing his pen aside, he added, "I just can not help it!" and laughed even harder.

Scrooge was even better than his word. He did it all and infinitely more. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city ever knew. Or any other good old city, town or borough in the good old world.

And to Tiny Tim, who did not die, but got well again, Scrooge became a second father, as he was to Mary and Paul, the children of Meg and Ben, for whom Scrooge found employment.

Some people laughed to see the alteration in Scrooge, but he let them laugh and little heeded them. His own heart laughed, and that was quite enough for him.

And it was always said that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us.

And so, as Tiny Tim observed, "God bless us...every one!"


I hope you enjoyed this combination of some of the movies that were based on Charles Dickens' wonderful story. And if you did, you should read his book!

[Esmeralda]

Since we're getting near Christmastime, I decided to bump this ahead...

And of all the Christmas stories that I've been bumping, this one is my own favorite...even if it isn't a Charmed story.