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A CHRISTMAS CAROL
by Charles Dickens
Stave 5: The End of It - Part 2
`What's to-day?' cried Scrooge, calling downward to a
boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look
about him.
`Eh?' returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.
`What's to-day, my fine fellow?' said Scrooge.
`To-day?' replied the boy. `Why, Christmas Day!'
`It's Christmas Day!' said Scrooge to himself. `I
haven't missed it! The Spirits have done it all in one night.
They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of
course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!'
`Hallo!' returned the boy.
`Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one,
at the corner?' Scrooge inquired.
`I should hope I did,' replied the lad.
`An intelligent boy!' said Scrooge. `A remarkable boy.
Do you know whether they've sold the prize Turkey that
was hanging up there--Not the little prize Turkey: the
big one?'
`What, the one as big as me?' returned the boy.
`What a delightful boy!' said Scrooge. `It's a pleasure
to talk to him. Yes, my buck!'
`It's hanging there now,' replied the boy.
`Is it!' said Scrooge. `Go and buy it!'
`Walk-er!' exclaimed the boy.
`No, no,' said Scrooge, `I am in earnest. Go and buy
it, and tell them to bring it here, that I may give them the
direction where to take it. Come back with the man, and
I'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than
five minutes and I'll give you half-a-crown!'
The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady
hand at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast.
`I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's,' whispered Scrooge,
rubbing his hands, and splitting with a laugh. `He shan't
know who sent it. It's twice the size of Tiny Tim. Joe
Miller never made such a joke as sending it to Bob's
will be.'
The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady
one, but write it he did, somehow, and went down-stairs to
open the street door, ready for the coming of the poulterer's
man. As he stood there, waiting his arrival, the knocker
caught his eye.
`I shall love it, as long as I live,' cried Scrooge, patting
it with his hand. `I scarcely ever looked at it before.
What an honest expression it has in its face! It's a
wonderful knocker!--Here's the Turkey! Hallo! Whoop!
How are you? Merry Christmas!'
It was a Turkey. He never could have stood upon his
legs, that bird. He would have snapped them short off in a
minute, like sticks of sealing-wax.
`Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town,'
said Scrooge. `You must have a cab.'
The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with
which he paid for the Turkey, and the chuckle with which
he paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed
the boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle
with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and
chuckled till he cried.
Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to
shake very much; and shaving requires attention, even when
you don't dance while you are at it. But if he had cut the
end of his nose off, he would have put a piece of
sticking-plaster over it, and been quite satisfied.
He dressed himself all in his best, and at last got out
into the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth,
as he had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present;
and walking with his hands behind him, Scrooge regarded
every one with a delighted smile. He looked so irresistibly
pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured fellows
said, `Good morning, sir. A merry Christmas to you!'
And Scrooge said often afterwards, that of all the blithe
sounds he had ever heard, those were the blithest in his ears.
He had not gone far, when coming on towards him he
beheld the portly gentleman, who had walked into his
counting-house the day before, and said, `Scrooge and Marley's, I
believe.' It sent a pang across his heart to think how this
old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but he
knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it.
`My dear sir,' said Scrooge, quickening his pace, and
taking the old gentleman by both his hands. `How do you
do? I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of
you. A merry Christmas to you, sir.'
`Mr Scrooge?'
`Yes,' said Scrooge. `That is my name, and I fear it
may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon.
And will you have the goodness'--here Scrooge whispered in
his ear.
`Lord bless me!' cried the gentleman, as if his breath
were taken away. `My dear Mr Scrooge, are you serious?'
`If you please,' said Scrooge. `Not a farthing less. A
great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you.
Will you do me that favour?'
`My dear sir,' said the other, shaking hands with him.
`I don't know what to say to such munificence.'
`Don't say anything, please,' retorted Scrooge. `Come
and see me. Will you come and see me?'
`I will!' cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he
meant to do it.
`Thank you,' said Scrooge. `I am much obliged to you.
I thank you fifty times. Bless you!'
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