SCENE I.—Chambers of Scrooge, the Miser. One side of it is filled up with a desk and high stool, the other is a fireplace, fire lighted. Easy chair, table with candlestick upon it, etc., etc.
Scrooge, the Miser, discovered near fire. Bob Cratchit, writing near desk, l. h. As the Curtain rises he descends from stool—approaches fire to stir it.
Scrooge. Bob—Bob, we shall be obliged to part. You'll ruin me in coals!
Bob. Ruin you—with such a fire in such weather! I've been trying to warm myself by the candle for the last half hour, but not being a man of strong imagination, failed.
Scr. Hark! I think I hear some one in the office. Go—see who it is.
Bob. (Aside.) Marley's dead—his late partner is dead as a door nail! If he was to follow him, it wouldn't matter much. (Exit 2 e. l. h.
Scr. Marley has been dead seven years, and has left me his sole executor—his sole administrator—his sole residuary legatee—his sole friend—his sole mourner! My poor old partner! I was sorely grieved at his death, and shall never forget his funeral. Coming from it, I made one of the best bargains I ever made. Ha, ha. Folks say I'm tight-fisted—that I'm a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, clutching miser. What of that? It saves me from being annoyed by needy men and beggars. So, this is Christmas eve—and cold, bleak, biting weather it is, and folks are preparing to be merry. Bah! what's Christmas eve to me? what should it be to them?
Enter Frank and Bob, 2 e. l. h.
Bob. There's your uncle, sir. (Aside.) Old covetous! He's worse than the rain and snow. They often come down, and handsomely too, but Scrooge never does! (Exit 2 e. l. h.
Scr. Who's that?