Рождественская история

           ‘Andyet,’saidScrooge,‘youdon’tthinkmeill-used,whenIpayaday’swagesfornowork.’

           Theclerkobservedthatitwasonlyonceayear.

           ‘Apoorexcuseforpickingaman’spocketeverytwenty-fifthofDecember!’saidScrooge,buttoninghisgreat-coattothechin.‘ButIsupposeyoumusthavethewholeday.Beherealltheearliernextmorning.’

           Theclerkpromisedthathewould;andScroogewalkedoutwithagrowl.Theofficewasclosedinatwinkling,andtheclerk,withthelongendsofhiswhitecomforterdanglingbelowhiswaist(forheboastednogreat-coat),wentdownaslideonCornhill,attheendofalaneofboys,twentytimes,inhonourofitsbeingChristmasEve,andthenranhometoCamdenTownashardashecouldpelt,toplayatblindman’s-buff.

           Scroogetookhismelancholydinnerinhisusualmelancholytavern;andhavingreadallthenewspapers,andbeguiledtherestoftheeveningwithhisbanker’s-book,wenthometobed.Helivedinchamberswhichhadoncebelongedtohisdeceasedpartner.Theywereagloomysuiteofrooms,inaloweringpileofabuildingupayard,whereithadsolittlebusinesstobe,thatonecouldscarcelyhelpfancyingitmusthaveruntherewhenitwasayounghouse,playingathide-and-seekwithotherhouses,andforgottenthewayoutagain.Itwasoldenoughnow,anddrearyenough,fornobodylivedinitbutScrooge,theotherroomsbeingallletoutasoffices.TheyardwassodarkthatevenScrooge,whoknewitseverystone,wasfaintogropewithhishands.