The Spirit took him out into the streets, where people were doing their last-minute shopping, getting ready for Christmas. The bells rang out for the services, from church and chapel, Poor people, who could not afford the fuel to cook at home, were carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. The Spirit stood in a doorway and sprinkled a few drops from his torch, in blessing, on these poor folk's dinners.

They came to a very small house. It belonged to Bob Cratchit, Scrooge's clerk. He only earned fifteen shillings a week, yet the Ghost of Christmas Present gave his house a special blessing.

The Cratchits were all dressed up in honour of Christmas. Mrs Cratchit and her daughters had shabby dresses, but they had decked them up with gay ribbons. Young Peter was wearing his father's starched "wing" collar, a lot too big for him, and getting the corners in his mouth. He was sticking a fork into a bubbling saucepan of potatoes, while one of the girls was laying the table.

Two excited little Cratchits, a boy and a girl rushed in to say they were sure they could smell their goose cooking at the baker's!

"Where's your father and Tiny Tim?" asked Mrs Cratchit.

"Here they cone!" said the children. And Bob, with three feet of "comforter" around his neck and Tiny Tim on his shoulder, came round the door. Tiny Tim carried a crutch and had an iron frame on his leg.

Just then the young Cratchits came charging back, bearing the goose on a tray! Mrs Cratchit hotted up the gravy. Young Peter mashed the potatoes. The girls dished up the apple sauce and put out the hot plates. Everyone sat round the table, and Bob said grace. Then Mrs Cratchit plunged her long carving knife into the breast, and the smell of sage and onion stuffing gushed out!

They all said there never was such a tender, tasty goose! There was enough for everybody. The two young Cratchits, who were stepped in sage and onion to the eyebrows, couldn't have eaten any more anyway.

Next, it was the turn of the Christmas pudding, which had been boiling away in the kitchen copper. The room smelled like a wash-day and baking day combined! Mrs Cratchit carried in the pudding, blazing with brandy, and with a sprig of holly on top. It looked like a speckled football. (No one even dared to hint that it was rather a small pudding for such a big family!)

Then they all sat round the fire, eating roast chestnuts and drinking Christmas toasts.

Bob raised his glass (a custard cup without a handle.) "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dear! God bless us!" And Tiny Tim added: "God bless us, every one!" He sat close to his father, who held his thin little hand.

"Spirit," whispered Scrooge, "tell me if Tiny Tim will live."

"I see an empty chair," said the Spirit, "and beside it a little crutch. If these shadows do not change, Tiny Tim will not see another Christmas. But why should you care? Let him die. There are too many poor people."

Scrooge heard his own words, and was silent with shame.

Then the Spirit showed Scrooge what Christmas meant in far-away, lonely places. To miners below the earth. To men in lighthouses, surrounded by sea and storm. To sailors on board ship in the dark night, singing carols as they worked.

Suddenly Scrooge heard a jolly laugh. It was Fred, his nephew. They were having a Christmas party. After a hilarious game of Blind Man's Buff, they were playing a guessing game, "Yes and No." Fred had to think of something, and could only answer "Yes" or "No" to questions.

Yes, he was thinking of an animal—a disagreeable, savage animal. Yes, it lived in London. No, it wasn't in a zoo. No, it wasn't a horse—or a donkey—or a cow—or a tiger—or a cat—or a bear. Scrooge's nephew laughed so much he almost fell off the sofa.

At last his plumb sister-in-law squealed out, "I know who it is! It's your Uncle Scroo-oo-ge!"

And so it was! They all drank a toast to Uncle Scrooge, who would have answered them, but the Spirit took him away again to see other people's Christmases in distant lands.

But gradually the Spirit grew smaller and smaller. Its brown hair turned to grey.

"Is your life so short?" asked Scrooge.

"Yes. It ends at midnight."

Then Scrooge noticed something hiding in the folds of the Spirit's robe. There were two children there, a boy and a girl, very thin, half starved and ragged.

"These are the children of the world who have no parents and no one to make a Christmas for them," said the Spirit sadly.

"Have they nowhere to go?" asked Scrooge.

"Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on him with his own words. "Are there no workhouses?"

The clock struck twelve.

Scrooge looked about him for the Spirit, but it was gone. Instead, he saw a solemn figure, clad in a dark hood and cloak, gliding like a mist over the ground towards him. It was the last of the Spirits.

The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come

The Spirit did not speak. All Scrooge could see of it in the gloom was one outstretched hand, pointing from its black garments. Scrooge was filled with fear.

"Are you the Spirit of the Future?" he asked, trembling. "Are you going to show me things that are going to happen in years to come?"

The Spirit seemed to bend its head.

"Will you not speak to me?" begged Scrooge.

Instead, the Spirit pointed straight ahead.

They were in the City. The business men were standing in groups, chinking the gold coins in their pockets. Scrooge and the Spirit stopped near enough to hear what some of them were saying.

"I don't know much about it. I only know he's dead," said one fat merchant.

"Who's he left all his money to?" asked another, taking snuff out of a large snuff-box.

"I don't know," said a red-faced banker with a wart on his nose. "He hasn't left it to me!" They all laughed.

"I wonder who'll go to his funeral," said the fat man. "He hadn't any friends!"

Scrooge wondered who they were talking about. He looked about for himself, but he was not in his usual place of business.

Next the Spirit took Scrooge to a dreadful slum in the poorest part of London. Under a low roof there stood a shabby old second-hand shop, full of rubbish. A rag-and-bone man was crouching by an evil-smelling stove, waiting for customers.

Two men and a woman came in out of the murky night, carrying bundles. They had some bedding, clothes and old curtains for sale.

"Where'd you get these, then?" croaked the rag-and-bone merchant, picking them over.

"The old chap we took them from won't want them again!" chuckled the woman.

"No, where he's gone, he won't want no sheets or night-shirt!" said the other man.

"If he hadn't been such a wicked old screw, he might have had somebody to look after him when he was dying," said the man, throwing down a pair of cuff-links. "It serves him right."

Scrooge watched while a few coins changed hands.

"Spirit," he said, "doesn't anyone feel sorry for this man's death? Show me someone with some feeling about it!"

The Ghost spread its dark robe out like a wing and then drew it back to show a room where a mother sat with her young children. Then her husband came in, looking ill and worried. Yet there was a look of joy on his face, too.

"We have more time to pay our debt," he said.

"Has the old man relented, then?" asked his wife eagerly.

"No," said her husband, "he is dead."

The wife's face brightened. This was the only feeling anyone had for the old man's death—it was relief.

Scrooge begged the Spirit to show him some kinder feeling connected with a death.

For an answer, the Spirit took him to Bob Cratchit's house.

The little Cratchits were quiet. Their mother was sewing.

"Is your father coming?" she said. "He's late."

"I think he walks slower in the evenings than he did with Tiny Tim on his shoulder," said Peter.

"Your father loved Tiny Tim, and he was so light to carry," said their mother.

Just then Bob came in, wearing his comforter, and his family hurried to get his tea. He had been to the cemetery.

"It's a lovely place," said Bob. "I promised Tiny Tim we'd go there every Sunday."

Bob had met Scrooge's nephew in the street. Fred had told him how sorry he was and asked what he could do to help.

"We must never forget Tiny Tim," said Bob to his family. "We must never quarrel with each other, for he was so patient and good."

They all hugged and kissed each other and made the promise.

"I am very happy," said Bob, looking round at his wife and children.

Scrooge said anxiously to the Spirit, "Show me myself as I shall be in years to come!"

The Spirit took him to his office, but another man sat at his desk. Scrooge began to feel a sense of dread.

The tall black figure led him on, still pointing, to an iron gateway. It led to a neglected churchyard, where the grass and nettles had grown high. The Spirit stood among the graves and its long finger pointed to one.

Scrooge said "Tell me, Spirit, are these thing that will happen, or are they things that may happen? Can they not be changed?"

But the Spirit still pointed at the grave without speaking. One the stone, Scrooge read his own name—

#C2 EBENEZER SCROOGE.

"No, no," he cried, clutching the Spirit's robe. "I am not that man! I will not be that man! Isn't there any hope for me? Can I change what you have shown me?"

The Spirit's hand trembled.

"I promise to keep Christmas in my heart, all the year round! I promise to remember the lessons the Spirits have taught me—Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas Future! Please tell me I can change the writing on this stone!"

As he begged the Spirit, he saw an alteration in its hood and dress. It shrank, collapsed and changed—into a bedpost.

God Bless Us, Every One!

It was his own bedpost and his own bedroom! And it was his own time ahead to make up for the past.

He scrambled out of bed and clutched the bed-curtains. They had not been torn down and sold! He put on his clothes, inside out, upside down, any way, laughing and crying at the same time.

"A Merry Christmas, everybody," he shouted. "A Happy New Year to all the world!"

Then he heard the church bells ringing out. Clash, Clash, Hammer, Ding Dong Bell! The fog had cleared away. It was golden sunlight and fresh morning air. He flung open the window.

"What day is it?" he called to a boy in the street below.

"What day? Why, Christmas Day!"

He had not lost any time after all! The Spirits had shown him all their wonders in one night, and it was still Christmas morning. Scrooge took out some money.

"Go down to the butcher's in the next street," he said, "and bring back the biggest turkey in the shop. Yes, that's right, the Prize Turkey. Get the man to come back with you so that I can tell him where to take it—and I'll give you half a crown!"

The boy ran off down the street. Half a crown was a lot of money in those days.

"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit," chuckled Scrooge. "He won't know where it's come from. It's twice the size of Tiny Tim!"

After he had sent the man off with the turkey, he had a good look at the door knocker. "What an honest expression it has! It's a wonderful knocker!" he said.

After he had shaved and dressed up in his best suit, Scrooge went out. He smiled at all the people he met and wished them a Merry Christmas and they returned the greeting. Then he spotted the plump gentleman who had been collecting for the poor. He went up and whispered in his ear. The plump gentleman looked amazed and delighted.

"A great many back payments are included in that!" Scrooge said.

Next, he marched boldly up to his nephew's front door and rang the bell.

"It's your Uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in, Fred?"

Of course he would! He nearly shook his hand off. They had the most wonderful party and Scrooge joined in it all—games, dancing, and singing carols.

Next morning, though, he was up early. He wanted to catch Bob Cratchit coming late to the office. Sure enough, poor Bob tried to sneak in unnoticed, quarter of an hour after his usual time. He got rid of his hat and comforter and jumped on his stool, writing away as if his life depended on it.

Scrooge growled at him, pretending to be his old horrible self.

"What do you mean by coming in at this time of day?" he snapped.

"I'm very sorry," said Bob meekly. "It's only once a year."

Scrooge said, "I'm not going to stand this sort of thing any longer,"—giving Bob a dig in the waistcoat—"and therefore—" giving him another dig that pushed him right back into the outer office "- therefore—I am about to RAISE YOUR WAGES!"

Bob thought Scrooge had gone mad. He looked about for the long wooden ruler.

"A Merry Christmas, Bob," said Scrooge. "A Merrier Christmas than I have given you for many a year, my poor fellow! Make up the fire—let's have a real blaze—and fetch another bucket of coal! I'll look after your family and help Tiny Tim—and we'll brew up a hot toddy this afternoon to celebrate!"

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and more, and to Tiny Tim (who did not die) he was a second father.

He became as good a friend, as good a master and as good a man as the good old City of London knew, or any city in the good old world!

He saw no more Spirits. But it was said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas as well as any man alive.

May that be true of all of us! As Tiny Tim once said, "God Bless Us, Every One!"

The End