of it, I’m not at all sure that I wasn’t his most particular friend; for we used to stop and speak whenever we met. Bye, bye!’
Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed with other groups. Scrooge knew the men, and looked towards the Spirit for an explanation.
The phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two persons meeting. Scrooge listened again, thinking that the explanation might lie here.
He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of business: very wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a point always of standing well in their esteem in a business point of view, that is; strictly in a business point of view.
‘How are you?’ said one.
‘How are you?’ returned the other.
‘Well!’ said the first, ‘old Scratch has got his own at last, hey?’
‘So I am told,’ returned the second. ‘Cold, isn’t it?’
‘Seasonable for Christmas-time. You are not a skater, I suppose?’
‘No, no. Something else to think of. Good-morning!’
Not another word. That was their meeting, their conversation, and their parting.
Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the
