“请什么也别说了，”斯克罗吉反驳道，“来看看我。你愿意来看我吗？”
“我愿意！”老绅士喊道。而且显然他是真心要来的。
“谢谢你，”斯克罗吉说，“我非常感激你。我五十倍地谢你。保佑你！”
他去了教堂，在街上漫步，看着人们匆匆来去，拍拍孩子们的头，向乞丐打听情况，往人家的厨房里张望，又抬头看窗户，发现一切都能给他带来快乐。他从未梦想过，随便走走——随便什么——竟能给他如此多的幸福。下午，他转身朝他外甥家走去。
那扇门他经过了十来遍，才鼓起勇气走上前敲门。但他猛地下了决心，真的敲了：
“小姐，你家主人在家吗？”斯克罗吉对那姑娘说。好姑娘！很不错。
“在的，先生。”
“他在哪儿呢，亲爱的？”斯克罗吉说。
“他和太太在餐厅里，先生。您若愿意，我带您上楼。”
“谢谢。他认得我，”斯克罗吉说，手已经搭在了餐厅的门锁上，“我自己进去，亲爱的。”
他轻轻转动锁，侧着脸从门边探进去。他们正看着桌子（桌上摆得十分丰盛）；因为这些年轻的主妇在这种事上总是紧张，喜欢看清一切是否妥当。
“弗雷德！”斯克罗吉说。
老天爷，他那侄媳妇吓了一大跳！斯克罗吉一时忘了她坐在角落里踏脚凳上，不然无论如何他也不会这么叫。
“哎呀我的天！”弗雷德叫道，“那是谁？”
“是我。你舅舅斯克罗吉。我来吃晚饭。让我进去吗，弗雷德？”
让他进去！幸亏他没把人胳膊摇脱臼。不到五分钟他就自在极了。什么都再热诚不过。他侄媳妇模样一点没变。托珀来时也一样。胖姐姐来时也一样。人人来时都一样。绝妙的聚会，绝妙的游戏，绝妙的同心，绝——妙——的幸福！
可第二天早上他早早到了办公室。哦，他到得真早。只要他能第一个到，逮住鲍勃·克拉奇蒂迟到就好！这正是他一心想要做的事。
他做到了；是的，他做到了！钟敲九点。鲍勃没来。九点一刻。鲍勃没来。他足足晚到了十八分半钟。斯克罗吉大敞着门坐着，好看见他走进那间小屋。
门还没开，他的帽子已经摘了；围巾也摘了。一眨眼他已坐上高凳，笔走如飞，像是拼命要追上九点钟。
“喂！”斯克罗吉用他惯常的嗓音吼道，尽量装得像，“你这钟点来是什么意思？”
“很抱歉，先生，”鲍勃说，“我迟到了。”
“是吗？”斯克罗吉重复道，“对。我想你是的。请这边走，先生。”
“一年就这一回，先生，”鲍勃从小屋里探身恳求道，“下不为例。我昨天玩得有点高兴，先生。”
“现在，我告诉你，朋友，”斯克罗吉说，“这种事我可再不依了。所以，”他跳下凳子，朝鲍勃腰上一戳，戳得他踉跄退回小屋，“所以我打算给你涨工钱！”
鲍勃发抖，往尺子边挪了挪。他闪过念头，想拿尺子把斯克罗吉打倒，按住他，朝院子里的人喊救命和拘束衣。
“圣诞快乐，鲍勃！”斯克罗吉诚心诚意地拍着他的背说，那诚恳不容错认，“更快乐的圣诞，鲍勃，我的好伙计，比多年来我给你的都快乐！我给你涨工钱，尽力帮你那苦撑的家，今天下午咱们就着一碗冒热气的主教酒，鲍勃，来商量你的事！把火生旺，在 you 再点一个 i 之前，鲍勃·克拉奇蒂，先去买个新煤斗！”
斯克罗吉言出必行。他全做了，而且远不止于此；对没死的小提姆，他如同再生之父。他成了那座善良古城所知，或这善良旧世界里任何别的善良古城、小镇、 borough 所知最好的朋友、最好的东家、最好的人。有人见他变了个样便笑，他任他们笑，不大理会；因为他够聪明，知道这世上凡行好事，开头总免不了有人笑个够；又知道这种人反正眼盲，倒不如让他们咧嘴眯眼笑，也好过害别的更丑的病。他自个儿心里笑：这对他便已足够。
他再没和鬼魂打过交道，此后唯守“全戒”之道；常有人说，若有人懂得怎么过好圣诞，必数他。愿这话于我们、于我们众人皆真！于是，正如小提姆所说，神保佑我们，每一个人！
"Don't say anything, please," retorted Scrooge. "Come
and see me. Will you come and see me?"
"I will!" cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he
meant to do it.
"Thank'ee," said Scrooge. "I am much obliged to you.
I thank you fifty times. Bless you!"
He went to church, and walked about the streets, and
watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children
on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into
the kitchens of houses, and up to the windows, and found
that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never
dreamed that any walk--that anything--could give him so
much happiness. In the afternoon he turned his steps
towards his nephew's house.
He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the
courage to go up and knock. But he made a dash, and
did it:
"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Scrooge to the
girl. Nice girl! Very.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is he, my love?" said Scrooge.
"He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. I'll
show you up-stairs, if you please."
"Thank'ee. He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand
already on the dining-room lock. "I'll go in here, my dear."
He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door.
They were looking at the table (which was spread out in
great array); for these young housekeepers are always nervous
on such points, and like to see that everything is right.
"Fred!" said Scrooge.
Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started!
Scrooge had forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting
in the corner with the footstool, or he wouldn't have done
it, on any account.
"Why bless my soul!" cried Fred, "who's that?"
"It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner.
Will you let me in, Fred?"
Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off.
He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier.
His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when he
came. So did the plump sister when she came. So did
every one when they came. Wonderful party, wonderful
games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!
But he was early at the office next morning. Oh, he was
early there. If he could only be there first, and catch Bob
Cratchit coming late! That was the thing he had set his
heart upon.
And he did it; yes, he did! The clock struck nine. No
Bob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was full eighteen
minutes and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his
door wide open, that he might see him come into the Tank.
His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comforter
too. He was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his
pen, as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock.
"Hallo!" growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice, as
near as he could feign it. "What do you mean by coming
here at this time of day?"
"I am very sorry, sir," said Bob. "I am behind my time."
"You are?" repeated Scrooge. "Yes. I think you are.
Step this way, sir, if you please."
"It's only once a year, sir," pleaded Bob, appearing from
the Tank. "It shall not be repeated. I was making rather
merry yesterday, sir."
"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Scrooge, "I
am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And
therefore," he continued, leaping from his stool, and giving
Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back into
the Tank again; "and therefore I am about to raise your
salary!"
Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He
had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it,
holding him, and calling to the people in the court for help
and a strait-waistcoat.
"A merry Christmas, Bob!" said Scrooge, with an earnestness
that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the
back. "A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I
have given you, for many a year! I'll raise your salary, and
endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss
your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of
smoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another
coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!"
Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and
infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was
a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a
master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or
any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old
world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him,
but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was
wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this
globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill
of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these
would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they
should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in
less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was
quite enough for him.
He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon
the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was
always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas
well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that
be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim
observed, God bless Us, Every One!
