SCENE II.--_A Street. Houses covered with snow.

_Enter DARK SAM, L. H._

SAM. It's very odd! I an't nimmed nothing to-night. Christmas eve, too--when people's got sich lots of tin! But they takes precious good care of it, 'cos I s'pose they thinks if they loses it, they shan't be able to get no Christmas dinner. If I can't prig nothin', I'm sure I shan't be able to get none. Unless this trade mends soon, I must turn undertaker's man again. There is a chance, in that honourable calling of a stray thing or two. Somebody comes! I wonder if I shall have any luck now.

_Enter BOB, R. H._

BOB. I shall soon be home! Won't my Martha be glad to see me--and what a pleasant happy Christmas Day we shall spend. What a dinner we shall have! I've got fifteen shillings--my week's wages--and I'm determined to spend every farthing of it. Won't we have a prime goose, and a magnificent pudding! And then the gin and water--and oranges--and the--oh, how jolly we shall be! And Tiny Tim, too--he never tasted goose before--how he will lick his dear little chops at the sage and onions! And as for Martha--my dear Martha, who is a dress-maker, and can only come to see us once in about four months--she shall have the parson's nose. Let me see--a goose will cost seven shillings--pudding five--that's twelve. Oranges, sage and onions, potatoes, and gin, at least three shillings more. Oh, there will be quite enough money, and some to spare. (_During this speech SAM advances cautiously and picks his pocket._)

SAM. (_Aside._) Some to spare! It can't fall into better hands than mine, then!

(_Exit R. H._

BOB. I've a good mind to buy the goose going home; but then if it should turn out fusty--I think I had better leave it for Mrs. C. The moment I get home, I'll pop the money into her hands, and--(_Feeling in his pockets._)--Eh?--what--what's this? Somebody has been having a joke at my expense. Eh? my week's salary--my fifteen shillings--it's gone! I'm ruined--lost----undone! My pocket has been picked! I've lost my Christmas dinner before I've got it! Oh, how can I face Mrs. C., and Bob, and Martha, and Tiny Tim! Oh, what can I do?

_Enter FRANK, L. H._

FRANK. What my worthy friend Bob Cratchit--how is this, man? you look sorrowful, and on Christmas eve, too!

BOB. Some of those boys whom I was sliding with on the ice in Cornhill must have done it.

FRANK. Done it! Done what, man?

BOB. Stole my Christmas dinner--my--salary--I mean my fifteen shillings, that your uncle paid me not an hour ago.

FRANK. That's unfortunate!

BOB. Unfortunate! Think of Tiny Tim's disappointment--no goose--no pudding--no nothing!

FRANK. Tiny Tim shall not go without his Christmas dinner notwithstanding your loss--no, nor you either--nor any of your family, Bob Cratchit. At such a time as this, no one should be unhappy--not even my hard-hearted uncle, much less a worthy fellow like you. Here, Bob, here's a sovereign--you can return it when my uncle raises your wages--no thanks, but go and be as happy as you deserve to be--once more, a merry Christmas to you!

(_Exit R. H._

BOB. He's a regular trump! I wanted to thank him, and couldn't find the words! I should like to laugh, and I feel as if I could cry. If Tiny Tim don't bless you for this my name's not Bob Cratchit! I've lost fifteen shillings, and I've found a sovereign! (_Dances._) Tol lol li do! Oh, Mrs. Cratchit! Oh, my little Cratchit! what a happy Christmas Day we shall spend, surely! What a pity Christmas don't last all the year round! (_Exit L. H._)