Різдвяна історія
Chapter 4
Ah!youmaylookthroughthatshirttillyoureyesache;butyouwon’tfindaholeinit,norathreadbareplace.It’sthebesthehad,andafineonetoo.They’dhavewastedit,ifithadn’tbeenforme.’
‘Whatdoyoucallwastingofit?’askedoldJoe.
‘Puttingitonhimtobeburiedin,tobesure,’repliedthewomanwithalaugh.‘Somebodywasfoolenoughtodoit,butItookitoffagain.Ifcalicoan’tgoodenoughforsuchapurpose,itisn’tgoodenoughforanything.It’squiteasbecomingtothebody.Hecan’tlookuglierthanhedidinthatone.’
Scroogelistenedtothisdialogueinhorror.Astheysatgroupedabouttheirspoil,inthescantylightaffordedbytheoldman’slamp,heviewedthemwithadetestationanddisgust,whichcouldhardlyhavebeengreater,thoughthedemons,marketingthecorpseitself.
‘Ha,ha!’laughedthesamewoman,whenoldJoe,producingaflannelbagwithmoneyinit,toldouttheirseveralgainsupontheground.‘Thisistheendofit,yousee.Hefrightenedeveryoneawayfromhimwhenhewasalive,toprofituswhenhewasdead!Ha,ha,ha!’
‘Spirit,’saidScrooge,shudderingfromheadtofoot.‘Isee,Isee.Thecaseofthisunhappymanmightbemyown.Mylifetendsthatway,now.MercifulHeaven,whatisthis?’
Herecoiledinterror,forthescenehadchanged,andnowhealmosttouchedabed:abare,uncurtainedbed:onwhich,beneatharaggedsheet,therelayasomethingcoveredup,which,thoughitwasdumb,announceditselfinawfullanguage.
