"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's!" whispered Scrooge,
rubbing his hands, and splitting with a laugh. "He
sha'n't know who sends 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 'em 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-plaister 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 gone. "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
munifi‐"
"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 'ee," said Scrooge. "I am much obliged to
you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!"
He went to church, and walked about the
streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro,
and patted children on the head, and questioned
beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of
houses, and up to the windows: and found that
everything could yield him pleasure. He had never
dreamed that any walk -- that anything -- could
give him so much happiness. In the afternoon he
turned his steps towards his nephew's house.
He passed the door a dozen times, before he had
the courage to go up and knock. But he made a
dash, and did it: