Scro. Don't say any thing, please. Come and see me. Will you come and see me?
Mr. B. I will—with great pleasure. [Exit, R.]
Scro. Thank'er. I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!
Enter Bob Cratchit, R., with Tiny Tim on his shoulder.
Scro. Halloo, Bob Cratchit! What do you mean by coming here?
Bob. I am very sorry, sir; I was not coming, I was only passing, sir, on my way to hear the Christmas carols.
Scro. What right have you to be passing here to remind me that it is Christmas?
Bob. It's only once a year, sir; it shall not be repeated.
Scro. Now, I'll tell you what, my friend. I am not going to stand this any longer: and therefore I give you permission to pass my house fifty times a day, if you want to. I give you a week's vacation, without any deduction for lost time. I am about to raise your salary. (Giving him a dig in the waistcoat; Bob staggers back, and Scrooge follows him up.) A Merry Christmas, Bob! (Slapping him on the back.) A Merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have ever given you for many a year! I'll raise your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and I'll be Tiny Tim's Godfather. Come along, my good fellow, we'll go to church together, and discuss your affairs on the way. Tiny Tim, what do you say to that?
Tiny Tim. I say God bless us, every one.