Bob. Peter will be a man of business, won't you, Peter?
Peter. What'll I do with all that money?
Cratchit. Invest it, invest it, my lad. It's a bewildering income.
Martha. Who do you think was in the shop yesterday? You'll never guess. A countess and a real lord.
All. Martha!
Martha. A real, live lord, as fine as silk and just about as tall as Peter here.
Peter (pulls his collar up high and tosses his head). As big as me? (Waits outside sing two verses of Christmas Carol, as before.)
Cratchit (goes to door). Here's a sixpence for you, and God bless you all.
Waits (outside). Thankee, sir. Merry Christmas, sir.
Belinda. And now the pudding.