"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. It
was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who
came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of
his approach.
"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!"
He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this
nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in
a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his
breath smoked again.
"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean
that, I am sure."
"I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be
merry? What reason have you to be
merry? You're poor enough."
"Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be
dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."
Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said
"Bah!" again; and followed it up with "Humbug."
"Don't be cross, uncle!" said the nephew.
"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I live in such a world
of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out
upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for
paying bills without money; a time for
finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for
balancing your books and having every item in
'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I
could work my will," said Scrooge
indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his
lips, should be boiled with his own
pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!"
"Uncle!" pleaded the nephew.
"Nephew!" returned the uncle, sternly, "keep Christmas in your own way,
and let me keep it in mine."
"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep it."
"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much good may it do you!
Much good it has ever done you!"
--
Replace "8" with "9" to reply.
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