Mrs. Cratchit looked at her husband and then back at the enormous turkey. After a few moments of thought she smiled at her family and said, "I say we cook it and have the biggest Christmas feast in the history of the Cratchit family!"

"Yes indeed!" agreed Bob Cratchit heartily, a look of joy and excitement on his kindly face.

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" cried the children, now joining hands and dancing gleefully about the table upon which rested the largest turkey any of them had ever seen.

"But Mother," said Peter, stopping abruptly the dance he had joined in with his siblings. "What shall we do with the goose Belinda and I bought?"

Mrs. Cratchit looked at her son sympathetically, knowing he and his sister had done their very best to find the largest bird they could purchase with the tiny sum she'd given them.

(start new pages) "Well, Peter," she began, not knowing how to answer him but touching his arm gently and smiling at her eldest son. "I suppose we might...

"I know!" exclaimed Tiny Tim. "Father says Mr. Scrooge has a cold in his head and is to spend Christmas quite alone and not celebrate it at all. Could we take the goose to the baker and then deliver it to Mr. Scrooge for his Christmas dinner Mother?"

"Give our goose to Mr. Scrooge?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, her voice full of indignation. "Why I'd as soon send it to the devil himself!" she declared, her heart filled with the anger and resentment the mention of Mr. Scrooge's name always stirred in her. The idea of paying the baker to prepare a goose purchased out of the meager earnings Bob received from that stingy old man and then presenting it to the horrible old sinner made Mrs. Cratchit's blood boil as rapidly as the water now hissing in the kettle over the fire in her hearth.

"My dear!" scolded her husband quietly. "It's Christmas Day! The children!"

Feeling her cheeks turn scarlet, Mrs. Cratchit looked at Tiny Tim. Seeing the look of innocent benevolence on his pale little face reminded Mrs. Cratchit of a time in her own life when she had looked upon the world with such goodness and without malice toward anyone. "You have such a kind and tender heart my darling boy!" she said after a few moments. "I could learn much from you about how we are supposed to treat others, even those who don't treat us kindly!" Tiny Tim leaned upon his little crutch and looked up at his mother, his little face a portrait of joyous expectation. "You are quite right!" said Mrs. Cratchit after a few moments in which she swallowed her anger like a bitter medicine. "We shall indeed send this goose along with our turkey to the baker and then deliver the goose to Mr. Scrooge for his Christmas dinner!"

"Hurrah!" cried Tiny Tim in delight for nothing pleased him more than doing a good deed for another human being, even one whom his mother seemed to consider as undeserving as his father's employer, Ebenezer Scrooge.

So when it grew near the time to sit down to their Christmas feast, Bob Cratchit and his eldest son Peter fetched both birds from the baker and dropped off the giant turkey at the Cratchit home for its final preparation before being placed on the platter and taken to the table. Then, accompanied by Tiny Tim, whose generosity of spirit had given birth to the good deed they were about to perform, Bob and Peter took the small but delicious looking goose to the home of Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge. (Unlike the poulterer who'd come in a cab to deliver the enormous turkey to them, the Cratchits—who could not have afforded one in any case—needed no cab in which to carry the meager bird they bore.)

Much to the disappointment of Tiny Tim and the consternation of his father, several applications of the very large knocker on Mr. Scrooge's front door went unanswered. Just as they were about to give up hope of a response to their knocking, the door was opened ever so slightly by the housekeeper.

"Good day!" declared Bob cheerfully. "I am Bob Cratchit, here to call upon Mr. Scrooge and deliver this Christmas goose!"

The old woman looked suspicious and somewhat befuddled.

"He's gone off to his nephew's for Christmas dinner, hasn't he?" she exclaimed. "Shaved and dressed in his finest waistcoat and off to Mr. Fred's, wishing me a happy Christmas and whistling a merry tune as he went," she told them, saying it in much the same tone of shock and amazement she might use in telling them she had recently seen an elephant with top hat and cane waltzing down the avenue before them.

Bob Cratchit was at a loss for words for several moments. He then stepped back from the door and checked the street number above it as if to confirm in his mind that the porch upon which he now stood was indeed that of Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge. The thought of Mr. Scrooge dressing up and accepting his nephew's yearly invitation to Christmas dinner (always heretofore declined most ungraciously by the uncle) was in itself an amazing and unbelievable concept; add to that the thought of Mr. Scrooge wishing the good lady who now stood before them a "happy Christmas" and "whistling a merry tune," and Bob could only suspect that he had somehow arrived at the home of a different Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge from the one in whose employ he had been for nearly ten years.

"Father," said Tiny Tim, "what shall we do with the goose then?"

Bob looked down at the well-wrapped goose whose warmth continued to seep through the cloth in which it was bundled to keep the winter cold at bay and then glanced at the old woman standing with Mr. Scrooge's door just slightly open to keep out the bitter wind.

"Perhaps you would take this small bird off our hands?" Bob asked her after a few moments of consideration, a kindly smile upon his face. "We were given an enormous turkey by an anonymous benefactor and no longer have need of this small goose."

"Well," said the housekeeper, eyeing the goose, "my own Christmas dinner was to be a small hen and some applesauce with my sister and niece. Your goose would be a rare treat for us all I can tell you!" (full book available on Kindle for $0.99).