Рождественская история

           Thehandinwhichhewrotetheaddresswasnotasteadyone,butwriteithedid,somehow,andwentdown-stairstoopenthestreetdoor,readyforthecomingofthepoulterer’sman.Ashestoodthere,waitinghisarrival,theknockercaughthiseye.

           ‘Ishallloveit,aslongasIlive,’criedScrooge,pattingitwithhishand.‘Iscarcelyeverlookedatitbefore.Whatanhonestexpressionithasinitsface!It’sawonderfulknocker!—Here’stheTurkey!Hallo!Whoop!Howareyou?MerryChristmas!’

           ItwasaTurkey.Henevercouldhavestooduponhislegs,thatbird.Hewouldhavesnappedthemshortoffinaminute,likesticksofsealing-wax.

           ‘Why,it’simpossibletocarrythattoCamdenTown,’saidScrooge.‘Youmusthaveacab.’

           Thechucklewithwhichhesaidthis,andthechucklewithwhichhepaidfortheTurkey,andthechucklewithwhichhepaidforthecab,andthechucklewithwhichherecompensedtheboy,wereonlytobeexceededbythechucklewithwhichhesatdownbreathlessinhischairagain,andchuckledtillhecried.

           Shavingwasnotaneasytask,forhishandcontinuedtoshakeverymuch;andshavingrequiresattention,evenwhenyoudon’tdancewhileyouareatit.Butifhehadcuttheendofhisnoseoff,hewouldhaveputapieceofsticking-plasteroverit,andbeenquitesatisfied.

           Hedressedhimselfallinhisbest,andatlastgotoutintothestreets.