SCENE VI.--_Apartment at BOB CRATCHIT'S.

(_MRS. CRATCHIT, PETER, and the two younger CRATCHIT'S discovered. Candle lighted. The SPIRIT enters, followed by SCROOGE._)

SCR. As through the old familiar streets we passed, I looked in vain to find myself, but nowhere was I to be seen.

MRS. C. (_Laying down her work. Mourning._) The colour hurts my eyes, and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father. It must be near his time--he walks slower than he used, and yet I've known him walk, with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed--but he was very light to carry, and his father loved him, so that it was no trouble--no trouble----

_Enter BOB, L. H. MRS. C. advances to meet him--the CHILDREN crowd around him._

BOB. There, wife, I've returned at last. Come, you have been industrious in my absence--the things will be ready before Sunday.

MRS. C. Sunday! You went to-day, then?

BOB. Yes, my dear! I wish you could have gone--it would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But you'll see it often--I promised him I would walk there of a Sunday--my little--little child--(_With much emotion._)

MRS. C. Don't fret!

BOB. Fret! I met Mr. Scrooge's nephew just now, who, seeing that I looked a little down, asked me what had happened. Ah, he's the pleasantest spoken gentleman you ever heard--he told me he was sorry for me and for my good wife--but how he knew _that_ I don't know!

MRS. C. Knew what?

BOB. Why, that you were a good wife! and he was so kind--it was quite delightful! He said he'd get Peter a better situation--and, mark me, whenever we part from one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim, shall we, or this first parting that was among us?

OMNES. Never! never! (_The CHILDREN crowd around their PARENTS, who kiss them tenderly. A medium descends and hides the group._)

SCR. Spectre, something informs me that our parting moment is at hand--tell me, ere you quit me, what man that was whom we saw lying dead? (_The SPIRIT points onward slowly traverses the stage._) Still he beckons me onward--there seems no order in these latter visions, save they are in the future. Through yonder gloom I can see my own dwelling--let me behold what I shall be in days to come--the house is yonder--why do you point away? Ah! that house is no longer mine--another occupies it. Ah! why is this? (_The medium is worked off, and discovers._)