Mrs. M. Do go on, Fred. He never finishes what he begins to say. He is such a ridiculous fellow.
Fred. I was only going to say, that the consequence of our uncle taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is , as I think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he finds in his own thoughts, either in his moldy old office or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can't help thinking better of it I defy him if he finds me going there, in good temper, year after year, and saying, Uncle Scrooge, I wish you A Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year! If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds, that's something; and I think I shook him yesterday. Come, let us have some music. Here, Thomas, clear away.
[All rise and go to the piano. Waiter clears table during the singing of a Christmas carol or any selected piece. ]
Fred. We must not devote the whole evening to music. Suppose we have a game?
All. Agreed.
Spir. Time flies; I have grown old. We must hasten on.
Scro. No, no! One half hour, Spirit, only one.
Fred. I have a new game to propose.
Sarah. What is it?
Fred. It is a game called Yes and No. I am to think of something and you are all to guess what it is. I am thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal that growls and grunts sometimes, and talks sometimes, and lives in London, and walks about the streets, and is not made a show of, and is not led by anybody and don't live in a menagerie, and is not a horse, a cow or a donkey or a bull. There, now guess?
Mrs. M. Is it a pig?
Fred. No.
Julia. Is it a tiger?
Fred. No.
Topper. Is it a dog?
Fred. No.
Sarah. Is it a cat?
Snapper. It's a monkey.
Fred. No.
Mrs. M. Is it a bear?
Fred. No.
Julia. I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!
Fred. What is it?
Julia. It's your uncle Scro-o-o-oge!
Fred. Yes.
All. Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!
Mrs. M. It is hardly fair, you ought to have said yes, when I said, it's a bear.
Fred. He has given us plenty of merriment, I'm sure, and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is some mulled wine ready to our hand at the moment; and when you are ready I say uncle Scrooge! (Servant brings wine forward. )
All. Well! Uncle Scrooge!
Fred. A Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to the old man. He wouldn't take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!
All. Uncle Scrooge, uncle Scrooge!
(Scrooge seems to make efforts to reply to the toast, while spirit drags him away. )
STAVE FOUR
Can this be the Spirit of Christmas Future that I see approaching? shrouded in a black garment, which conceals its head, its form, its face, and leaves nothing visible save one outstretched hand. I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. It points onward with its hand. You are about to show me the shadows of things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us. Is that so, Spirit? (Rises and stands trembling. ) Ghost of the Future, I fear you more than any spectre I have seen; but as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me? It will not speak. The hand points straight before us. Lead on! Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit.
(Scrooge crosses stage, as if following Spirit to tormentor entrance, and remains while the scene changes. )
Jones. Pretty well. So Old Scratch has got his own, at last, hey?
Stev. So I am told. Cold, isn't it?
Jones. Seasonable for Christmas-time. You're not a skater, I suppose?
Stev. No, no. Something else to think of. Good morning. [Exeunt in opposite directions. ]
Scro. Ah, here are more of my old business friends; the Spirit directs me to hear what they say.
Mr. R. When did he die?
Mr. F. Last night, I believe.
Mr. S. Why, what was the matter with him? (Takes snuff out of a large snuff-box. ) I thought he would never die.
Mr. F. I did not take the trouble to inquire.
Mr. R. What has he done with his money?
Mr. F. I haven't heard (yawning ); left it to his company, perhaps. He hasn't left it to me . That's all I know. (All laugh. ) It's likely to be a very cheap funeral, for upon my life I don't know of any body to go to it. Suppose we make up a party and volunteer?
Mr. R. I don't mind going if a lunch is provided. I must be fed if I make one. (All laugh. )
Mr. F. Well, I am the most disinterested, after all, for I never wear black gloves and I never eat lunch. But I'll offer to go, if any body else will. When I come to think of it, I am not at all sure that I wasn't his most particular friend; for we used to stop and speak whenever we met.