A CHRISTMAS CAROL (IN PROSE BEING, A Ghost Story of Christmas)<\/p>\n
by Charles Dickens<\/p>\n
(OCF editing – Part 9)<\/p>\n
Scrooge’s former self grew larger at the words, and the<\/strong><\/p>\n room became a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrunk,<\/strong><\/p>\n the windows cracked; fragments of plaster fell out of the<\/strong><\/p>\n ceiling, and the naked laths were shown instead; but how<\/strong><\/p>\n all this was brought about, Scrooge knew no more than you<\/strong><\/p>\n had happened so; that there he was, alone again, when all<\/strong><\/p>\n the other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly.<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of<\/strong><\/p>\n his head, glanced anxiously towards the door.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy,<\/strong><\/p>\n came darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, and<\/strong><\/p>\n often kissing him, addressed him as her “Dear, dear<\/strong><\/p>\n brother.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “I have come to bring you home, dear brother!” said the<\/strong><\/p>\n child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh.<\/strong><\/p>\n “To bring you home, home, home!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Home, little Fan?” returned the boy.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Yes!” said the child, brimful of glee. “Home, for good<\/strong><\/p>\n and all. Home, for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder<\/strong><\/p>\n than he used to be, that home’s like Heaven! He spoke so<\/strong><\/p>\n gently to me one dear night when I was going to bed, that<\/strong><\/p>\n I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come<\/strong><\/p>\n home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach<\/strong><\/p>\n to bring you. And you’re to be a man!” said the child,<\/strong><\/p>\n opening her eyes, “and are never to come back here; but<\/strong><\/p>\n first, we’re to be together all the Christmas long, and have<\/strong><\/p>\n the merriest time in all the world.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “You are quite a woman, little Fan!” exclaimed the boy.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his<\/strong><\/p>\n head; but being too little, laughed again, and stood on<\/strong><\/p>\n tiptoe to embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in her<\/strong><\/p>\n childish eagerness, towards the door; and he, nothing loth to<\/strong><\/p>\n go, accompanied her.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n A terrible voice in the hall cried, “Bring down Master<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge’s box, there!” and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster<\/strong><\/p>\n himself, who glared on Master Scrooge with a ferocious<\/strong><\/p>\n condescension, and threw him into a dreadful state of mind<\/strong><\/p>\n by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him and his<\/strong><\/p>\n sister into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlour that<\/strong><\/p>\n ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial<\/strong><\/p>\n and terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold.<\/strong><\/p>\n Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine, and a<\/strong><\/p>\n block of curiously heavy cake, and administered instalments<\/strong><\/p>\n of those dainties to the young people: at the same time,<\/strong><\/p>\n sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of “something”<\/strong><\/p>\n to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman,<\/strong><\/p>\n but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he had<\/strong><\/p>\n rather not. Master Scrooge’s trunk being by this time tied<\/strong><\/p>\n on to the top of the chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster<\/strong><\/p>\n good-bye right willingly; and getting into it, drove<\/strong><\/p>\n gaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels dashing the<\/strong><\/p>\n hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens<\/strong><\/p>\n like spray.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have<\/strong><\/p>\n withered,” said the Ghost. “But she had a large heart!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “So she had,” cried Scrooge. “You’re right. I will not<\/strong><\/p>\n gainsay it, Spirit. God forbid!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “She died a woman,” said the Ghost, “and had, as I think,<\/strong><\/p>\n children.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “One child,” Scrooge returned.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “True,” said the Ghost. “Your nephew!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly,<\/strong><\/p>\n “Yes.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Although they had but that moment left the school behind<\/strong><\/p>\n them, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of a city,<\/strong><\/p>\n where shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowy<\/strong><\/p>\n carts and coaches battled for the way, and all the strife and<\/strong><\/p>\n tumult of a real city were. It was made plain enough, by<\/strong><\/p>\n the dressing of the shops, that here too it was Christmas<\/strong><\/p>\n time again; but it was evening, and the streets were<\/strong><\/p>\n lighted up.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge if he knew it.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Know it!” said Scrooge. “Was I apprenticed here!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh<\/strong><\/p>\n wig, sitting behind such a high desk, that if he had been two<\/strong><\/p>\n inches taller he must have knocked his head against the<\/strong><\/p>\n ceiling, Scrooge cried in great excitement:<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Why, it’s old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it’s Fezziwig<\/strong><\/p>\n alive again!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the<\/strong><\/p>\n clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his<\/strong><\/p>\n hands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all over<\/strong><\/p>\n himself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence; and<\/strong><\/p>\n called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice:<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge’s former self, now grown a young man, came briskly<\/strong><\/p>\n in, accompanied by his fellow-‘prentice.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Dick Wilkins, to be sure!” said Scrooge to the Ghost.<\/strong><\/p>\n “Bless me, yes. There he is. He was very much attached<\/strong><\/p>\n to me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear, dear!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Yo ho, my boys!” said Fezziwig. “No more work to-night.<\/strong><\/p>\n Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let’s<\/strong><\/p>\n have the shutters up,” cried old Fezziwig, with a sharp clap<\/strong><\/p>\n of his hands, “before a man can say Jack Robinson!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n You wouldn’t believe how those two fellows went at it!<\/strong><\/p>\n They charged into the street with the shutters–one, two,<\/strong><\/p>\n three–had ’em up in their places–four, five, six–barred<\/strong><\/p>\n ’em and pinned ’em–seven, eight, nine–and came back<\/strong><\/p>\n\n