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 upstairs, if you please.’
‘Thankee. 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 house-keepers 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?’
