representing a wareroom. Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig
L., the former standing and clapping his hands, and
the latter seated in an arm-chair, manifesting
delight. Old bald-headed fiddler, on an elevated seat,
at the back. Dick Wilkins, with two Miss Fezziwigs,
forward to right and back. Scrooge's former self
advances and retires to the partners, with fancy
steps: hands around; right and left; ladies change;
balance; promenade. Other characters to fill up the
picture. Laughter and merriment to follow Scrooge's
speech._
_Spir._ Do you know it?
_Scro._ Know it! I was apprenticed here. Why, its old Fezziwig. Bless
his heart; its Fezziwig alive again, and Mrs Fezziwig, too. Dick
Wilkins, to be sure, with Fezziwig's two daughters. Bless me, yes. There
he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick. And see me,
cutting the pigeon-wing. Dear, dear, dear!
(_Dance comes to an end amid general hilarity and merriment, and the
scene closes in._)
_Spir._ A small matter to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.
_Scro._ Small! Why, old Fezziwig was one of the best men that ever
lived. He never missed giving his employees a Christmas ball.
_Spir._ Why, is it not! He spent but a few pounds of money--three or
four pounds, perhaps--. Is that so much that he deserves your praise?
_Scro._ It isn't that, Spirit. He had the power to render us happy or
unhappy; to make our services light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil.
Say that his power lives in words and looks; in things so light and
unsignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up; what then?
The happiness he gives is quite as great if it cost a fortune--oh, dear.
_Spir._ What is the matter?
_Scro._ Nothing, particular.
_Spir._ Something, I think.
_Scro._ No, no. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my
clerk, just now, that's all.
_Spir._ My time grows short, let us hurry on. Do you remember this?
(_Waves wand._)