“Uncle!”

“Nephew, keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.”

“Keep it!  But you don’t keep it.”

“Let me leave it alone, then.  Much good may it do you!  Much good it has ever done you!”

“There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest.  But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round,—­apart from the veneration due to its sacred origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that,—­as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-travellers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.  And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”

The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded.

“Let me hear another sound from you” said Scrooge, “and you’ll keep your Christmas by losing your situation!—­You’re quite a powerful speaker, sir,” he added, turning to his nephew, “I wonder you don’t go into Parliament.”

“Don’t be angry, uncle.  Come!  Dine with us, to-morrow.”

Scrooge said that he would see him—­yes, indeed he did.  He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first.

“But why?” cried Scrooge’s nephew.  “Why?”

“Why did you get married?”

“Because I fell in love.”

“Because you fell in love!” growled Scrooge, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas.  “Good afternoon!”

“Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened.  Why give it as a reason for not coming now?”

“Good afternoon.”

“I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be friends?”

“Good afternoon.”

“I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute.  We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party.  But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I’ll keep my Christmas humor to the last.  So, A Merry Christmas, uncle!”

“Good afternoon!”

“And A Happy New Year!”

“Good afternoon!”

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding.  The clerk, in letting Scrooge’s nephew out, had let two other people in.  They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrooge’s office.  They had books and papers in their hands, and bowed to him.

“Scrooge and Marley’s, I believe,” said one of the gentlemen, referring to his list.  “Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr. Marley?”