Frank. A merry Christmas, uncle!
Scr. Bah! humbug!
Frank. Uncle, you don't mean that, I'm sure.
Scr. I do. Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? You're poor enough.
Frank. (Gaily.) Come, then, what right have you to be dismal! What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.
Scr. Bah! humbug!
Frank. Don't be cross, uncle.
Scr. What else can I be, when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon Merry Christmas. What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money—a time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer. If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart—he should!
Frank. Uncle!
Scr. Nephew, keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.