in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a book before him.
The mother and her daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they
were very quiet!

'"And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them."'

Where had Scrooge heard those words? He had not dreamed them. The boy
must have read them out as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why
did he not go on?

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up to her
face.

'The colour hurts my eyes,' she said.

The colour? Ah, poor Tiny Tim!

'They're better now again,' said Cratchit's wife. 'It makes them weak by
candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes
home for the world. It must be near his time.'

'Past it rather,' Peter answered, shutting up his book. 'But I think he
has walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings,
mother.'

They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady, cheerful
voice, that only faltered once:

'I have known him walk with--I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon
his shoulder very fast indeed.'

'And so have I,' cried Peter. 'Often.'

'And so have I,' exclaimed another. So had all.

'But he was very light to carry,' she resumed, intent upon her work,
'and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble, no trouble. And
there is your father at the door!'

She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforter--he had
need of it, poor fellow--came in. His tea was ready for him on the hob,
and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then the two young
Cratchits got upon his knees, and laid, each child, a little cheek
against his face, as if they said, 'Don't mind it, father. Don't be
grieved!'

Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family.
He looked at the work upon the table, and praised the industry and speed
of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long before Sunday,
he said.

'Sunday! You went to-day, then, Robert?' said his wife.

'Yes, my dear,' returned Bob. 'I wish you could have gone. It would have
done you good to see how green a place it is. But you'll see it often. I
promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little, little
child!' cried Bob. 'My little child!'

He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could have helped
it, he and his child would have been farther apart, perhaps, than they
were.

He left the room, and went upstairs into the room above