with joy.

"And to-morrow's your wedding-day, my pet!" cried Trotty. "Your real,
happy wedding-day!"

"To-day!" cried Richard, shaking hands with him. "To-day. The chimes are
ringing in the New Year. Hear them!"

They _were_ ringing! Bless their sturdy hearts, they _were_ ringing!
Great bells as they were--melodious, deep-mouthed, noble bells, cast in
no common metal, made by no common founder--when had they ever chimed
like that before?

Trotty was backing off to that wonderful chair again, when the child,
who had been awakened by the noise, came running in half-dressed.

"Why, here she is!" cried Trotty, catching her up. "Here's little
Lilian! Ha, ha, ha! Here we are and here we go. Oh, here we are and here
we go again! And here we are and here we go! And Uncle Will, too!"

Before Will Fern could make the least reply, a band of music burst into
the room, attended by a flock of neighbors, screaming, "A Happy New
Year, Meg!" "A happy wedding!" "Many of 'em!" and other fragmentary
good-wishes of that sort. The Drum (who was a private friend of
Trotty's) then stepped forward and said:

"Trotty Veck, my boy, it's got about that your daughter is going to be
married to-morrow. There ain't a soul that knows you that don't wish you
well, or that knows her and don't wish her well. Or that knows you both,
and don't wish you both all the happiness the New Year can bring. And
here we are to play it in and dance it in accordingly."

Then Mrs. Chickenstalker came in (a good-humored, nice-looking woman
who, to the delight of all, turned out to be the friend of Lilian's
mother, for whom Will Fern had come to look), with a stone pitcher full
of "flip," to wish Meg joy, and then the music struck up, and Trotty,
making Meg and Richard second couple, led off Mrs. Chickenstalker down
the dance, and danced it in a step unknown before or since, founded on
his own peculiar trot.

II.

TINY TIM.

IT will surprise you all very much to hear that there was once a man who
did not like Christmas. In fact, he had been heard on several occasions
to use the word _humbug_ with regard to it. His name was Scrooge, and he
was a hard, sour-tempered man of business, intent only on saving and
making money, and caring nothing for anyone. He paid the poor,
hard-working clerk in his office as little as he could possibly get the
work done for, and lived on as little as possible himself, alone, in two
dismal rooms. He was never merry or comf