A Christmas Carol; Or, The Miser's Warning! (Adapted from Charles Dickens' Celebrated Work.)
SCENE III.--_Interior of a Marine Store Shop. Old iron, phials, etc.,
seen. A screen extends from R. H. to C. separating fireplace, etc., from shop. Chair and table near the fire._
OLD JOE _seated near the fire, smoking. A light burns on the table. The SPIRIT enters, followed by SCROOGE._
SCR. What foul and obscure place is this? What place of bad repute--of houses wretched--of people half naked--drunken and ill-favoured? The whole quarter reeks with crime--with filth and misery. (_Shop door opens, and MRS. DIBLER enters. She has hardly time to close the door when it opens again, and DARK SAM enters closely followed by MRS. MILDEW. Upon perceiving each other they at first start, but presently burst into a laugh. JOE joins them._)
SAM. Let the charwoman alone to be the first--let the laundress alone to be second--and let the undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look here old Joe, here's a chance! If we all three haven't met here without meaning it.
JOE. You couldn't have met in a better place. Come into the parlour--you're none of you strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop. Ah! how it shrieks! There an't such a rusty bit of metal here as its own hinges--and I'm sure there's no such old bones here as mine. Ha, ha! we're all suitable to our calling. We're well matched. Come into the parlour. (_They come forward by screen._)
MRS. M. (_Throwing down bundle._) What odds, then, Mrs. Dibler? Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always did.
SAM. No man more so, so don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman--who's the wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's coats, I suppose?
OMNES. No, indeed! we should hope not!
MRS. M. Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose?
OMNES. (_Laughing._) No, indeed!
SAM. If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, a wicked old screw, why wasn't he natural in his life time?
MRS. M. If he had been, he'd have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with death, instead of lying, gasping out his last, alone there by himself--it's a judgment upon him! Open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of it.
SAM. Stop! I'll be served first, to spare your blushes, though we pretty well knew we were helping ourselves, and no sin neither! (_Gives trinkets to JOE._)
JOE. Two seals, pencil case, brooch, sleeve buttons! (_Chalking figures on wall._) Five bob! Wouldn't give more, if you was to boil me! Who's next? (_MRS. DIBLER offers bundle which he examines._) There's your money! (_Chalks on wall._) I always give too much to ladies--it's my weakness, and so I ruin myself. If you asked for another penny, and made it an open question, I'd repent of being so liberal, and knock off half a-crown! (_Examines MRS. MILDEW'S bundle upon his knees._) What do you call this? bed curtains? You don't mean to say you took 'em down, rings and all, with him lying there?
MRS. M. Yes. I do! Why not?
JOE. You were born to make your fortune, and you'll certainly do it! Blankets! his blankets?
MRS. M. Whose else's? He won't take cold without 'em!
JOE. I hope he didn't die of anything catching!
MRS. M. No, no! or I'd not have waited on such as he! There, Joe, that's the best shirt he had--they'd ha' wasted it, but for me!
JOE. What do you call wasting it?
MRS. M. Putting it on him to be buried, to be sure! Somebody was fool enough to do it, but I took it off again! If calico ain't good enough for such a purpose, it ain't good enough for anybody! It's quite as becoming to the body! He can't look uglier than he did in that one!
SCR. I listen to their words in horror!
JOE. There is what I will give you! (_Chalks on wall, then takes out a small bag, and tells them out their money._)
MRS. M. Ha, ha! This is the end of it, you see--he frightened every one away from him when he was alive, to profit us when he was dead--ha, ha, ha! (_All laugh._)
SCR. (_Shuddering._) Spirit, I see--I see! The case of this unhappy man might be my own--my life tends that way now. Let us be gone. (_The SPIRIT points onward. The Scene changes._)