Scrooge. I wish to be left alone. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, I don't believe in it. And I can't afford to make idle people merry. They should go to the poorhouse.

Second Lass. Many of them would rather die, sir, than do that.

Scrooge (savagely). If they would rather die, they'd better do it and decrease the population. And besides, I am a very busy man.

First Lass. But, sir—

Scrooge. Good afternoon.

First Lass. I'm sorry, sir. Sorry—

Scrooge. Sorry for them?

First Lass. No, sir, I'm sorry for you, sir. Good afternoon. (Exits L. followed by Second Lass.)

Scrooge. Sorry for me, hey? (Pause. He works. The clock strikes five.) Sorry for me!

Cratchit (closes his book, blows out candle). Is there anything more, sir? (Comes to C.)