Mrs. C. Now, Martha and Belinda, change the plates, while I bring the nuts, apples and oranges.
Bob. (Rising and placing the punch-bowl on the table. ) Here is what will remind us it is Christmas. (Fills three tumblers and custard-cup without a handle, and passes them to Mrs. C., Peter and Martha. ) I'll give you Mr. Scrooge, the founder of the feast.
Mrs. C. The founder of the feast, indeed! I wish I had him here, I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it.
Bob. My dear, the children! Christmas Day.
Mrs. C. It should be Christmas Day, I am sure, on which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert. Nobody knows it better than you, poor fellow.
Bob. My dear. Christmas Day.
Mrs. C. I'll drink his health for your sake and the day's, not for his. Long life to him. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt.
All. A Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.
Scro. Spirit, take me away. I see the very mention of my name casts a gloom on what, were it not for me, would be a very happy party.
Spir. Wait; they will soon put the memory of you aside, and will be ten times merrier than before, and Tiny Tim will sing.
Scro. No, no; take me hence.
(As they retire toward the door, the spirit shakes his torch toward the party, which restores good humor. )
Little C. Oh! we forgot the pudding!
All. The pudding! the pudding! (Laughter and confusion. )
SCENE III. A street. Mansion with lighted window, showing shadow of a group. Sounds of music inside.
Enter Spirit and Scrooge L. A lamp-lighter with torch and ladder R; as he passes them, the spirit waves his torch, and the lamp-lighter exits singing a carol. Enter two men, quarreling.
First Man. But, I know better, it is not so.
Second Man. It is so, and I will not submit to contradiction.
Second Man. So it is a shame to quarrel on this day. God love it, so it is; come, and if we are not merry for the rest of it, it shall not be my fault. [Exeunt. ]
Scro. Spirit, is there a peculiar flavor in what you sprinkle from your torch?
Spir. There is. My own.
Scro. I notice that you sprinkle it to restore good humor, and over dinners. Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?
Spir. To any kindly given. To a poor one most.
Scro. Why to a poor one most?
Spir. Because it needs it most.
Scro. They are fine-looking children. Spirit, are they yours?
Spir. They are man's. And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance, this girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree; but most of all, beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is doom , unless the writing be erased. Deny it, great city. Slander those who tell it ye. Admit it for your factious purposes, make it worse, and abide the end.
Scro. Have they no refuge or resource?
Spir. Are there no prisons? Are there no work-houses?
Scro. My very words, again.
Spir. Begone! hideous, wretched creatures, your habitation should not be in a Christian land. (Ignorance and Want slouch off. ) Let us proceed, time is passing, and my life is hastening to an end.
Scro. Are spirit's lives so short?
Spir. My life on this globe is very brief. It ends to-night.
Scro. To-night?
Spir. To-night, at midnight. (Exeunt. )
SCENE IV Drawing room. Mr. and Mrs. Fred Merry, Miss Julia Kemper, Miss Sarah Kemper, Mr. Thomas Topper, Mr. Henry Snapper, discovered seated around the dessert table. Servant serving coffee.
All. (Laughing ) Ha, ha! ha, ha, ha, ha!
All. Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Fred. He believed it, too.
Mrs. M. More shame for him, Fred!
Fred. He's a comical old fellow, that's the truth; and not so pleasant as he might be; however, his offenses carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him.
Mrs. M. I'm sure he's very rich, Fred. At least you always tell me
so.
Fred. What of that, my dear. His wealth is of no use to him. He don't do any good with it. He don't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't the satisfaction of thinking ha, ha, ha, ha! that he is ever going to benefit us with it.
Mrs. M. I have no patience with him.
Julia. Neither have I for such a stingy old wretch!
Fred. Oh, I have. I am sorry for him; I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself, always. Here he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the consequence? He don't lose much of a dinner.
Mrs. M. Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner.
Sarah. A much better one than he could have served up in his old dingy chambers.
Fred. Well, I'm very glad to hear it, because I haven't great faith in these young housekeepers. What do you say, Topper?
Topper. A bachelor like myself is a wretched outcast, and has no right to express an opinion on such an important subject.