Stave Three
The Second of the Three Spirits
Part One- The Spirit's Transformation
Scrooge awoke from his restless slumber and didn't even need to check his alarm clock to see that it was nearly one o clock once more. He felt as though he'd awoken exactly for the purpose of meeting with the second spirit that Charles Marley had proclaimed would arrive.
He sat up in bed and looked around as the hour of one struck, and yet nothing appeared to be there. He was now prepared for anything, having now experienced two occasions in which he had had ghostly companionship and yet the room was empty.
Ten minutes past.
Quarter past.
Half past one.
And still nothing had appeared from thin air, in any shape or form.
But then, Scrooge noticed the light, which had been shining from underneath his bedroom door since one. Why hadn't he noticed that before? He hesitantly got up and, wiser now after his visitation from the Ghost of Christmas Past, pulled on his dressing gown and headed to the door. He opened it slowly, as though expecting something terrifying to be lurking behind it.
There was nothing there. Just the stairs, as usual, save for the fallen paintings from when Charles Marley's Ghost had paid a visit, and that mysterious light at the bottom, radiating from the living room.
Scrooge crept quietly down the stairs, his slippers squeaking against the polished wood. As he finished his decent he tiptoed to the living room door, wondering all the while what the next spirit would show him.
Then, Scrooge heard a voice from inside the room; a voice that called his own name! Nervously, he turned the door handle and entered.
The living room was transformed beyond comprehension. Strung all around the room were Christmas lights, flashing on and off in jewel colours. The old fireplace, beside where Scrooge's television sat on its little table, had no real purpose, but it was now blazing and filled the small room with warmth. A handsome Christmas tree stood in the corner, bedecked in lights and magnificent ornaments, each and every one an icon of the great Christmas holiday; a glittering star perched on the top. Holly, ivy and mistletoe were festooned in glowing greens, reds and whites all around the ceiling. And, to complete the spectacular transformation, snow appeared to be falling from the ceiling, disappearing just as it touched the ground.
Sitting majestically in the midst of this, on top of a pile of Christmas gifts in colourful wrapping paper sat an old man with long white hair and flowing white beard. He was grandly dressed in long robes of red, white and gold, with a bishop's hat in the same colours on his head, this adorned with a golden cross. In one withered hand he held a golden staff with was shaped like a shepherds crook.
"Come!" the man cried, in a thick Eastern European accent. "Come in and know me better!"
Scrooge did as he said, timidly. He was not the Scrooge he had been and although the Spirit's gaze was kind, he did not like to meet it.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present!" said the spirit. "Will you look upon me?"
Scrooge did so reverently. He was amazed by the Spirit's splendour, not to mention the magical transformation of his once drab living room. Also, the Ghost of Christmas Present reminded Scrooge of someone, although he couldn't quite remember who.
"You still do not fully understand who I am," the spectre said, as though he had read Scrooge's thoughts. "I also go by the name of Saint Nicholas; and I inspired your modern figure of Santa Claus. Is that how you come to recognize me?"
"Y-Yes, it is Spirit!" stammered Scrooge.
"And yet, I can tell, you have never seen anything like me before?"
"No, never!" Scrooge replied earnestly.
"You mean to say you have never met any of my younger relations, born in earlier years?"
"No, Spirit, I haven't." Scrooge replied, thinking suddenly of his own family shown to him by the Ghost of Christmas Past, the memories still painful. "H-Have you many brothers and sisters?"
"I have indeed. At least eighteen hundred!" replied the spectre.
Scrooge gasped. "An enormous family to provide for!" he exclaimed.
The Ghost of Christmas Present rose from his throne of gifts, his movements graceful and authoritive even as he performed this small feat.
"Spirit," said Scrooge, humbly. "Take me where you must. I walked with the Ghost of Christmas Past last night, and learnt a valuable lesson which I am still learning now. Tonight, teach me what you must, for it will do me good to learn this."
"Touch my robe!"
Scrooge did as he was instructed, and held the material tight in his fist.
The lights, fire, Christmas tree, holly, ivy, mistletoe and magically falling snow all vanished in an instant. So did Scrooge's living room, the night-time and the glow from the fire, and the pair found themselves in the bustling streets of Edinburgh, on Christmas morning.
Part Two- Mince Pies and Church Bells
Ah, Christmas morning. It certainly is a sight to see. Ice had strategically placed itself upon the pavements during the night, so that pedestrians had to step carefully for fear of falling over. And even if they did, they simply laughed and got up again, for it was Christmas morning, and it didn't seem right to be angry or upset on such a special day.
Young bairns, clad warmly in scarves, gloves and hats, dashed cheerfully about the streets, shouting Merry Christmas to one another. Some children zoomed around on their new bikes and scooters that had arrived from Santa Claus the pervious night, giggling with glee, whilst beaming mothers and fathers looked on.
Scrooge and The Ghost of Christmas Present walked amongst the people on the streets, and as they did so, Scrooge noticed that every so often the spirit would wave his staff, and instantly the people all around would be even more cheerful then before.
Two women exited Gregg's the bakers, arguing about whether or not they'd bought enough mince pies. As the ghost waved his staff once more, they stopped bickering, apologised to one another and made their cheerful way onwards.
"What happens-exactly," asked Scrooge. "When you wave your staff like that?"
"When I wave this staff, I bless those around me," the phantom replied. "Especially those who need blessing the most!" He paused, and looked over at Donald's Chippie, where the busker still sat, guitar on his lap, strumming away heartily. Although he was incredibly poor and had no means of food or shelter, he was still glad that it was Christmas, and revelled in the occasion.
The Ghost of Christmas Present, Scrooge by his side, travelled further into the city, passing all manner of shops and offices closed for Christmas and still others that remained open for the festive season. They passed houses full of cheerful children and their happy families, Yuletide partiers and senior citizens, enjoying an early morning cup of coffee and watching the children outside at their play.
The bells of the steeple then sounded, beckoning all good people to come to church. Men, women and children lined the streets as if in a grand parade, each person greeting another merrily and eager to celebrate the reason for the season.
Part Three-The Cratchit Household
Soon, Scrooge noticed, they began to enter a poorer part of the city. They had passed the rows of posh semi-detached houses, Tesco and Argos, these being replaced by blocks of flats, many decorated with graffiti. At many of the entrance ways, and along the scrubby pavements, old crisp packets and empty cans lay like fallen leaves.
He and the spirit entered one such building, on 5 Victoria Way, and made their way to the basement flat, where Paul Cratchit and his family lived. His wife, Judith Cratchit, was busy in the kitchen as Scrooge and the ghost entered, busily fiddling with the rickety old gas stove, trying to get the potatoes to boil. Brian, the eldest Cratchit child, was busily chopping carrots and organizing the rest of the vegetables. Jemima, the second youngest, was happily setting the table, arranging the cutlery neatly beside the family's collection of blue and white patterned plates.
"Where could Lucy be?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, sweeping a lock of light brown hair out of her eyes. "She should be here by now!"
Just
then, the second eldest Cratchit entered, her hair tousled from the
winter wind.
"Sorry I'm late, Mum!" she began, setting
down her bag, which was full of paperwork. "Mr. Hardwood kept us
late last night at the office; he wanted all this paperwork done
before Christmas. But it couldn't be done, so he asked us all to
come back this morning and bring some home…" she tailed off, and
gave her mother a hug.
"I was just going to ask why you were so late, sweetheart!" replied Mrs. Cratchit, hugging her daughter tightly before helping her take off her threadbare coat. "Just sit down by the fire, dear, and get warm. You look frozen stiff!"
Lucy sank gratefully into the moth-eaten armchair beside the Cratchit flats small electric fire, rubbing her hands together to get the feeling back into her fingers.
"When's Dad coming home?" piped up Jemima, setting down the final spoon on the table, and scurrying over to help Brian. "Shouldn't HE be here by now too?"
Right on cue, the door opened once more and in came Paul Cratchit, with the youngest Cratchit, Mini Mike, on his shoulders. Although you couldn't see from his outer, cheerful demeanour, Mini Mike was a gravely ill child, with a heart defect. His parents knew that if it wasn't fixed soon, he might soon be taken from them. But, although this knowledge made them grave in their hearts, they remained joyful people and hopeful for their youngest son, and all their children.
Lucy, Brian and Jemima all hurried over to greet their father, and Mrs. Cratchit helped Mike down from Paul's shoulders. Mike and the other three Cratchit children all talked amongst themselves about how wonderful the Christmas season was this year, and how they hoped it would snow so they could build snowmen.
"How did little Mike behave then?" asked Judith Cratchit, after embracing her husband, who looked tired yet happy, having carried Mini Mike all the way from church.
"He behaved like a little angel, maybe even better!" replied Paul tenderly. "He said afterwards that he really enjoyed the service and he thought that it was wonderful that all these people came. He said that it is good for us to remember, upon Christmas Day, He who made lame beggars walk and blind men see, He who is truly the reason for Christmastime. Him and not the presents, Christmas tree or Santa Claus. It warmed my heart to hear him say these things, my dear!"
"And so it should," replied Mrs. Cratchit, looking fondly at the four children, now seated by the electric fire and chattering away earnestly. "And how is his health?"
"He's growing stronger by the day, I'm sure of it," Paul replied softly.
The Cratchit's then bustled about, helping each other to finish up the last of the Christmas dinner preparations. Mrs. Cratchit boiled the potatoes, Brian and Lucy fixed the vegetables, and Jemima got the mint sauce out of the fridge.
Soon, the family sat down to dinner. Mrs. Cratchit had brought the turkey to the table with pride, although it was a small bird, and cheap, it was suited to the whole family. They all praised her immensely for it; it didn't matter to them that it was small. Any Cratchit would have been ashamed to have pointed it out.
Once they had all eaten their fill, Mrs. Cratchit included, she got up from the table to go and fetch the Christmas pudding. It too was small and cheap, but it looked delicious. She stuck a sprig of holly onto the top and set it aflame and then paraded it into the dining room (which also doubled as the Cratchit living room) beaming with joy at how it had turned out.
The whole family applauded, and Mini Mike beat his fork on the table and feebly cried, "Hurray!" Paul Cratchit hugged his wife and then, grinning broadly, said that it was the greatest success that Mrs. Cratchit had ever had during their years of marriage. Mrs. Cratchit laughed with pleasure at this praise.
As the family once again tucked in, Scrooge turned to the ghost.
"Why are they so glad at the sight of such a small dinner?" he asked, with genuine curiousity. "Surely it's not enough to feed them all?"
The Ghost of Christmas Present looked firmly down at Scrooge. "It's not their fault that their meals are so meagre, it is yours. Your employee Paul only pockets fifty pounds a week, hardly enough for a grand feast!"
Scrooge, shame suddenly grabbing at him, hung his head, but looked up sharply when he heard his own name.
"Mr. Scrooge!" Paul Cratchit cried. "I give you Mr. Scrooge, The Founder of The Feast!"
"The Founder of The Feast indeed!" snapped Mrs. Cratchit, her face growing red. "I wish I had him here! I'd give him a piece of my mind to FEAST upon and he'd better have a good appetite for it!"
"My dear," said Paul calmly. "The children, Christmas Day…I know you don't think well of Mr. Scrooge but please, now isn't the time to start raving about it!"
"It should be Christmas Day when someone, ANYONE in the whole wide world drinks to the health of such an odious, stingy, cold, hard, unfeeling, wicked old man as Mr. Scrooge! No-one knows it better than you do Paul, poor fellow! Not to mention I have many more inventive insults thought up about him!"
"Judith, darling," Paul replied, a little more firmly. "It's Christmas Day!"
"Huh! I'll drink his health for your sake, and that of Christmas Day's, but not his. Long life and a Merry Christmas to him! He'll be very merry, I have no doubt!"
The family drank the toast after her, although they had no joy in it. Even Mini Mike, the cheeriest of the lot, looked glum. Scrooge was clearly the monster of the family, a right chip on the shoulder.
Scrooge's toast done with, the family returned to their Christmas celebrations in higher spirits. They gathered together around the grate, sharing stories and drinking lemonade, and then Mini Mike sang them a song he'd learnt in Sunday School about the Nativity. He had an innocent little voice, and the family rejoiced to hear him sing.
Then the family opened their Christmas presents, which had been piled neatly underneath their small Christmas tree, which had only five battered and woebegone looking ornaments hanging on its branches. Mrs. Cratchit had made the youngest two children a teddy bear each, with scarlet ribbons around their necks, and for Brian and Lucy she had knitted scarves, because the chilly weather in Edinburgh around Christmastime meant that scarves were a necessity. The children warmly thanked their parents and then the family sent up a prayer to God, in thanks for Christmas Day.
After a pause, Mini Mike looked up from gazing fondly at his teddy bear and said softly, but with feeling, "God bless us, every one!"
Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before upon hearing these words, turned again to look at his ghostly companion. "Spirit," he asked, humbled by Mini Mike's cheerful disposition. "Tell me if Mini Mike will live!"
"I see an empty seat," the phantom replied gravely. "At the family's small table, and this years Christmas gift to him, carefully preserved. If what you see before you remains unaltered by future events, Mini Mike shall die."
"Oh no, kind spirit! Oh no, no!" cried Scrooge, in anguish.
"None other of my race will fine him here," the Ghost of Christmas Present said, matter of factly. He paused, giving time for the message to sink in and then said, "Come, there is still much to see!"
The scene of the Cratchit household dissolved around them and Scrooge kept a tearful eye on them all, Mini Mike especially, until they had vanished altogether.
Part Four- Christmas Together
Scrooge and the Spirit travelled far and wide, all across the country, everywhere they went viewing scenes of Scots folk enjoying the Yuletide season together. They visited hospitals, and the spirit blessed the sick. Every person there from the staff to the patients, had a Christmas thought or memory, some even hummed a Christmas tune. The patients were visited and given presents and cards by their relatives, and all, even those for whom there was no hope, for their illness was so great, were joyful.
The ghost and Scrooge visited the homes of families, with chattering children, doting aunts, uncles and grandparents and cheerful parents, watching the children unwrapping their gifts with ecstasy on their faces. The spirit blessed them, as well.
They visited orphanages, refugee centres, nursing homes, universities and many more places besides, and everywhere they went, the spirit blessed those they saw.
As they travelled, their surroundings grew wilder as they headed further into the countryside. Soon, they had reached the coast. Surely they weren't going to go out over the sea?
Out over the sea they went, the ghost's magnificent robes billowing in the icy winds. They stung Scrooge's face and hands and nipped at his nose but the spirit underwent no discomfort. He and Scrooge came to rest on a boat, which was headed off to a foreign country for trading. And, though the men onboard were far from home, each one was full of Christmas cheer.
So noisy were the roar of the sea and the howling of the wind that Scrooge was surprised to hear mirthful laughter in the midst of it. He turned around, in a shock, to find himself at the home of his nephew, Tom Scrooge!
Tom was laughing, so much so that he was bent double, clutching a stitch in his side. The other people in the room (as Scrooge could see there were six, not counting himself and The Ghost of Christmas Present) were laughing too, through not as extravagantly and with such hilarity as Tom.
"He said," spluttered Tom. "That Christmas was utter hogwash! He said it was balderdash, a ludicrous waste of people's hard earned cash! And he believed it too!"
Scrooge recalled the conversation well, and it sent a pang of guilt across his heart now, remembering that he'd said such things. He had been leaving the office on Christmas Eve when his mobile had begun ringing insistently…
"Who is this?" Scrooge snapped.
"It's me, Uncle Richard!" Tom had replied. "Your nephew, Tom!"
"I wouldn't care if you were the bloomin' tooth fairy! What d'you want?"
"Nothing in particular, only to wish you a Merry Christmas!"
"Christmas?" Scrooge had spat, as if it were a swear word or something of that nature. "Christmas is a load of balderdash! Hogwash! A ludicrous waste of people's time and money. You work all year to earn it, fritter it away on Christmas gifts and decorations at the end of the year, and then have months of bills afterwards!"
Tom tried to get a word in edgeways, but Scrooge angrily barrelled on.
"It's only one day of the year! What's the point in getting so worked up about it? As far as I'm concerned, it's just another workday! I think that any eejit who thinks otherwise should be boiled with his own stinkin' Christmas pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart! He should!"
"Uncle, please don't be so cross!" Tom had cried.
"What else can I be, in a world full of fools? I'm surrounded by idiots…Besides, what good has Christmas ever done for you? You don't earn any money from it; you throw money down the drain! You find yourself older, but not a pound richer! You find yourself in debt at least a dozen times over and-"
"There are many things," Tom interrupted. "That are good in this world, from which I have not profited…Christmas among them. But I believe that Christmas, when it comes around, is a good time; a loving, kind, honest and charitable time. A time when everyone is merry and joyous, and treat each other as equals, instead of giving them the cold shoulder. A time when help is given to those who need it most and a time, most importantly, when we all celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, our saviour. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put any pounds or pennies in my pocket, I believe it has done me good, and will continue to do me good and I say, God bless it!"
"You're quite a powerful speaker, nephew," Scrooge had growled back. "It's a wonder you don't enter parliament and become the next Prime Minister!"
"Come on Uncle," Tom had laughed. "Why don't you come and have Christmas dinner with my wife Rosemarie, and I tomorrow? You've not met her yet and-"
"Why did you get married?" Scrooge interjected, angrily.
"Because I fell in love!" Tom replied simply.
"Because you fell in love?" Scrooge sneered sarcastically. "As if you didn't have enough problems…"
Scrooge hung up on Tom, rolled his eyes, and walked on.
Tom's wife, Rosemarie, stopped laughing with the rest, and said, "Shame on him then Tom, eh? There's something the matter with that man!"
"Oh, he's a comical old fellow," Tom had replied, good naturedly. "Though not as cheerful as he might be. However, his offences carry their own punishments, and I haven't a thing to say against him!"
"But I'm sure he's very rich, eh Tom?" said one of Scrooge's niece's sisters. "At least, that's what you always say!"
"So what?" Tom laughed. "It's of no use to him! He doesn't make himself comfortable with it or anything! He hordes it away like some kind of dragon! And, of course, he'll never benefit US with it!"
"I have no patience with him!" observed one of Rosemarie's two sisters, a blonde young lady named Jane.
"Oh, I do," Tom replied, wiping his eyes. "I couldn't be angry with him if you paid me! Who suffers because of his ill will? It's always himself. Here he takes it into his head to hate us, and he won't even come and have dinner with us. But what's the consequence? He doesn't lose much of a dinner!"
"Actually, I think he misses an excellent dinner!" replied Rosemarie, and the others around her nodded approvingly.
"That's good," Fred said. "Because I was afraid, with all our electricity bills, the oven wouldn't work!"
This comment was received with another smattering of laughter.
"Do carry on, Tom!" cried Scrooge's niece, Rosemarie. "You never finish saying what you start to say, do you?"
Tom revelled in another hearty laugh, and he continued.
"I was just going to say that because he refuses to come and dine with us, that he refuses point blank to even meet any of you lot, it makes him lose some pleasant moments, which I don't reckon could do him any harm! He doesn't find any pleasant company in his own thoughts, or his solitary office or lonely old house. I wish to offer him the same chance every year to celebrate the Christmas season, to try and give the old chap a bit of merriment, whether he likes it or not! I pity him, Rosemarie. You see, he may rail at Christmas until he dies but I can't help thinking that, if every year I phone him or visit his office just to say Uncle Scrooge how are you? If it puts him in the mood to leave his poor employee a thousand pounds, that's something at least. Besides, I think I shook him yesterday, on the phone!"
Once again the assembled company laughed at the very thought of shaking Scrooge. But being thoroughly good natured, and not caring what they laughed at so long as they laughed and enjoyed themselves, Tom let them laugh and joined in too.
After they'd finished the remains of their pudding, they had some Christmas music. Scrooge's niece played a little air on the piano, a song which had been familiar to Scrooge's sister, Mary. Upon hearing these strains of music, Scrooge remembered all the visions the Ghost of Christmas Past had shown him, and he softened inside, wishing with all his heart that he might have led life in a kinder way, as his sister had done, instead of becoming avaricious and cold as he had. He wished, now more than ever, that he could change. He didn't want to end up like Charles Marley.
But they didn't devote the whole of their Christmas party to music, Tom, Rosemarie and company. Together they played some games, for it is always fun to act like children sometimes, and when better than at Christmas, when Jesus himself was a child, all those years ago.
First they played a game of blind mans buff and John didn't seem to be blind at all, quite the opposite in fact. He went after Jane like a mad man; tripping over people, knocking over the coffee table, upending a lamp, smothering himself in the curtains…The incredulity went on and on, until, at last, he caught her. Jane exclaimed that it wasn't fair, that he had known where she was all along, but she really didn't mind, and she and John got on well together.
After blind mans buff the family played a game of trivial pursuit, the answers to all the questions Scrooge was quick to fire out and loudly too, although no-one in the room except the spirit could hear him.
The spirit was very pleased to find Scrooge in such a joyful mood, and even more so when Scrooge begged like a little boy if they could stay until everyone had gone home, so that he could enjoy the party. But the ghost said it was impossible.
"They're playing a new game!" cried Scrooge, gesticulating. "Just a half hour spirit, just thirty more minutes!"
The game was called 'Yes and No', where Tom thought of something, and asked everyone to guess what it could be; he could only answer yes or no, whatever the case may be. After a rapid fire of questions they had concluded that it was an animal, a live animal, a disagreeable animal, an animal that talked, that lived in Edinburgh, that wasn't led by anyone or made a show of, it didn't reside in a pet shop, it wasn't killed to be eaten as food, it wasn't a donkey or a horse or a chicken, dog, cat, mouse, cow, bull, tiger, pig or a bear. At each new question, Tom let out another laugh, and by the end of the questions just mentioned, he was so full of mirth that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp his feet with glee.
The second of Scrooge's niece's sisters, Mandy, laughing almost as much a Tom, suddenly cried out, "Ooooh, Tom! I've found the answer! I know what it is, Tom!"
"What is it?" laughed Tom.
"It's your Uncle Scroooooge!" she cried, giggling.
And it was. John suggested however, that the answer to "Is it a bear?" should have been "Yes!" but Jane, ever the silly one, thought that the answer to "Is it a donkey?" should have been "Yes!" instead!
"He's made us very happy this evening, what with all these jokes and games!" said Tom, good humouredly. "And it wouldn't be right if we didn't give him a toast, ungrateful even. Here, we all have a glass of punch ready in our hands and so I say, Uncle Scrooge!"
"Uncle Scrooge!" they chorused.
"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is. He won't take it from me, but may he have it nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!"
Scrooge, watching them, had become so elated and glad to be in their presence, even if they had no idea he was there, that if he had been he would have given them a whole speech of gratitude, if the phantom had given him time. Unfortunately for him, the whole scene dissolved at the last word spoken by Scrooge's nephew.
On he and the spirit travelled, visiting all sorts of places of misery, which the spirit filled with hope and Christmas cheer. Everywhere they went there was always a happy ending. As they travelled, Scrooge noticed that the Ghost of Christmas Present grew steadily older. Although he had had white hair and beard to begin with, it was still evident by the deepness of the wrinkles on his hands and face, and his ever hunching stature. He had observed the change, but never told the spirit about it, until they had left a children's Christmas party and stood in a city courtyard.
"Are all spirits lives so short?" asked Scrooge, curiously.
"My life upon this earth is very brief!" the spectre replied. "It ends tonight, when the clock strikes the midnight hour. It is close at hand, you hear!"
As the ghost spoke, it was forty five minutes past eleven, Scrooge could see from his watch.
"Forgive me spirit, if I appear rude, but there is something protruding from underneath your robe, not belonging to you. Is it a foot, or a claw?"
"It should be a claw for the flesh that is upon it!" replied the spectre gravely.
As he spoke, two figures crawled out from the folds of his scarlet and gold robes; two figures that resembled children, but only just. Where youthful beauty should have been, there was only horrifying ugliness. Their faces were ashen, their eyes hooded and sunken, lips wrinkled, cheeks in folds. The children, boy and girl, were scowling, their skeletal forms clad in tattered grey rags.
"Spirit!" cried Scrooge, stumbling backwards in horror. "Are they yours?" He tried to say that they were lovely children, but the lie was such an enormous one, that even his foul tongue couldn't pronounce it.
"They are Man's," the ghost replied. "And they cling to me, for they have no hope left in the world. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, but most of all beware this boy, for I see Doom hanging about his very form, like a misty shroud!"
Scrooge, tearing his eyes away from the wretched beings at the ghost's feet, cried, "But, shouldn't they have a home? A family to go to?"
The ghost sadly shook its head, and, as it did so, the clock struck midnight. In an instant he, and the two abject children, vanished instantly.
As the final chime struck, Scrooge saw, emerging from the darkness, a mysterious figure, attired in a sweeping white coat, moving swiftly towards him.
