Різдвяна історія
Chapter 2
OldFezziwiglaiddownhispen,andlookedupattheclock,whichpointedtothehourofseven.Herubbedhishands;adjustedhiscapaciouswaistcoat;laughedalloverhimself,fromhisshoestohisorganofbenevolence;andcalledoutinacomfortable,oily,rich,fat,jovialvoice:
‘Yoho,there!Ebenezer!Dick!’
Scrooge’sformerself,nowgrownayoungman,camebrisklyin,accompaniedbyhisfellow-prentice.
‘DickWilkins,tobesure!’saidScroogetotheGhost.‘Blessme,yes.Thereheis.Hewasverymuchattachedtome,wasDick.PoorDick.Dear,dear.’
‘Yoho,myboys,’saidFezziwig.‘Nomoreworkto-night!ChristmasEve,Dick.Christmas,Ebenezer.Let’shavetheshuttersup,’criedoldFezziwig,withasharpclapofhishands,‘beforeamancansayJackRobinson.’
Youwouldn’tbelievehowthosetwofellowswentatit.Theychargedintothestreetwiththeshutters—one,two,three—hadthemupintheirplaces—four,five,six—barredthemandpinnedthem—seven,eight,nine—andcamebackbeforeyoucouldhavegottotwelve,pantinglikerace-horses.
‘Hilli-ho!’criedoldFezziwig,skippingdownfromthehighdesk,withwonderfulagility.‘Clearaway,mylads,andlet’shavelotsofroomhere.Hilli-ho,Dick.Chirrup,Ebenezer.’
Clearaway.Therewasnothingtheywouldn’thaveclearedaway,orcouldn’thaveclearedaway,witholdFezziwiglookingon.Itwasdoneinaminute.
