SCENE V.--_Bob Cratchit's home. Mrs. Cratchit,

Belinda, Little Cratchit and Peter Cratchit discovered at table, the two former sewing and the latter reading a book._

_Peter._ (_Reading._) And he took a child and set him in the midst of them.

_Scro._ Where have I heard those words? I have not dreamed them. Why does he not go on?

_Mrs C._ (_Betrays emotions; lays her work upon the table, and puts her hand to her face._) The color hurts my eyes.

_Bel._ Yes, poor Tiny Tim!

_Mrs. C._ They're better now. It makes them weak by candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be near his time. (_Resumes her work._)

_Peter._ Past it, rather (_shutting up book_), but I think he has walked a little slower than he used, these last few evenings, mother.

_Mrs. C._ (_In a faltering voice._) I have known him walk with--I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder very fast indeed.

_Peter._ And so have I, often.

_Bel._ And so have I.

_Mrs. C._ But he was very light to carry, and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble; no trouble. And there is your father at the door.

_Enter Bob Cratchit. Belinda and Little Cratchit meet him; Peter places a chair for him, and Mrs. C. averts her head to conceal her emotion. Bob kisses Belinda, and takes Little C. on his knees, who lays his little cheek against his face._

_Bob._ Hard at work, my dears; hard at work. Why, how industrious you are, and what progress you are making. You will be done long before Sunday.

_Mrs. C._ Sunday! You went to-day, then, Robert?

_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 that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little, little child! my little child! (_Rises and retires up stage to compose himself; returns and resumes his place at the table._) Oh, I must tell you of the extraordinary kindness of Mr Scrooge's nephew, whom I have scarcely seen but once, and who, meeting me in the street, and seeing that I looked a little--just a little--down, you know, inquired what had happened to distress me. On which, for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever heard, I told him. I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit, he said, and heartily sorry for your good wife. By-the-bye, how he ever knew _that_, I don't know.

_Mrs. C._ Knew what, my dear?

_Bob._ Why, that you were a good wife.

_Peter._ Everybody knows that!

_Bob._ Very well observed, my boy. I hope they do. Heartily sorry, he said, for your good wife. If I can be of service to you in any way, he said, giving me his card, that's where I live; pray come to me. Now, it wasn't for the sake of anything he might be able to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that this was quite delightful. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt with us.

_Mrs. C._ I'm sure he's a good soul.

_Bob._ You would be sure of it, my dear, if you saw and spoke to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised--mark my words--if he got Peter a better situation.

_Mrs. C._ Only hear that, Peter.

_Bel._ And then Peter will be keeping company with some one, and setting up for himself.

_Peter._ (_Grinning_.) Get along with you!

_Bob._ It's just as likely as not, one of these days; though there's plenty of time for that, my dear. But, however and whenever we part from one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim, shall we?

_All._ Never, father.

_Bob._ And I know, I know, my dears, that when we recollect how patient and how mild he was--although he was a little child--we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it.

_All._ No, never, father. (_All rise._)

_Bob._ I am very happy. I am very happy! (_Kisses Mrs C., Belinda, Young C. and shakes hands with Peter._) Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence is from above.

CURTAIN.

STAVE FIVE.