A living and moving picture of Scrooge’s former self, a young man, came briskly in, accompanied by his fellow-’prentice.

“Dick Wilkins, to be sure!” said Scrooge to the Ghost.  “My old fellow-’prentice, bless me, yes.  There he is.  He was very much attached to me, was Dick.  Poor Dick!  Dear, dear!”

“Yo ho, my boys!” said Fezziwig.  “No more work to-night.  Christmas eve, Dick.  Christmas, Ebenezer!  Let’s have the shutters up, before a man can say Jack Robinson!  Clear away, my lads, and let’s have lots of room here!”

Clear away!  There was nothing they wouldn’t have cleared away, or couldn’t have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on.  It was done in a minute.  Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug and warm and dry and bright a ball-room as you would desire to see upon a winter’s night.

In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomachaches.  In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile.  In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable.  In came the six young followers whose hearts they broke.  In came all the young men and women employed in the business.  In came the housemaid, with her cousin the baker.  In came the cook, with her brother’s particular friend the milkman.  In they all came one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow.  Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them.  When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, “Well done!” and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter especially provided for that purpose.

There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer.  But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler struck up “Sir Roger de Coverley.”  Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig.  Top couple, too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had no notion of walking.