SCROOGE (_comes down to his desk at L., muttering_). Howling idiots! Give 'em a shilling, hey? I'd like to give 'em six months in the work'us, that I would. Paupers! I'd show 'em what a merry Christmas is. (CRATCHIT _gets down from stool and starts to slink out L._) Hey! CRATCHIT (_pauses, turns to_ SCROOGE). Yes, sir. SCROOGE. Where you goin'? CRATCHIT. I was just goin' to get a few coals, sir. Just to warm us up a bit, sir. SCROOGE. You let my coals alone. Get back to work. I'm not complaining about the cold, am I? And I'm an older man than you are. Back to work! CRATCHIT (_sighs, pauses, then says meekly_). Yes, sir. (_Resumes work._) SCROOGE. You want to let my coals alone if you expect to keep your job. I'm not a millionaire. Understand? (_Loudly._) Understand? CRATCHIT. Yes, sir, I understand. (_Shivers, wraps long white woolen muffler closer about throat and warms hands at candle._) SCROOGE. Here it is three o'clock, the middle of the afternoon, and two candles burning. What more do you want? Want me to end up in the poorhouse? FRED (_heard outside at L._). Uncle! Uncle! Where are you? Merry Christmas, uncle. FRED _enters from L. He is happy and bright and has a cheerful, loud laugh. He enters laughing and comes down C._ SCROOGE (_looking up from his work_). Oh, it's you, is it? FRED. Of course it is, uncle. Merry Christmas! God save you! SCROOGE (_with disgust_). Merry Christmas! Bah! Humbug! FRED. Christmas a humbug, uncle? You don't mean that, I'm sure. SCROOGE. I don't, hey? Merry Christmas! What cause have you got to be merry? You're poor enough. FRED (_laughing good-naturedly_). Come, then, what right have you got to be dismal? You're rich enough. So, merry Christmas, uncle. SCROOGE. Out upon your 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? You keep Christmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine. FRED. Keep it? But you don't keep it! SCROOGE. Let me leave it alone, then. Much good may it do you! Much good has it ever done you! FRED. Christmas is a good time, uncle; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them in the social scale. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it _has_ done me good, and _will_ do me good; and I say, God bless it, God bless Christmas! CRATCHIT (_who had been listening eagerly, claps his hands_). Good! SCROOGE. Let me hear another sound from _you_ and you'll keep your Christmas by losing your job. Get to work! CRATCHIT. Yes, sir. (_Resumes his work on the ledger._) SCROOGE (_to_ FRED). You're quite a powerful speaker, sir. I wonder you don't go into Parliament. FRED. Don't be angry, uncle. Come, dine with us tomorrow.