haven't missed it. Hallo, my fine fellow!"

"Hallo!"

"Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the
corner?"

"I should hope I did."

"An intelligent boy! A remarkable boy! Do you know whether they've sold
the prize Turkey that was hanging up there? Not the little prize
Turkey,--the big one?"

"What, the one as big as me?"

"What a delightful boy! It's a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck!"

"It's hanging there now."

"Is it? Go and buy it."

"Walk-ER!"[*] exclaimed the boy.

[* "Walker!" or "Hookey Walker!" means "What a story!"]

"No, no, I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell 'em to bring it here,
that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come back with the
man, and I'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than five
minutes, and I'll give you half a crown!"

The boy was off like a shot.

"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's! He sha'n't know who sends it. It's
twice the size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller never made such a joke as sending
it to Bob's will be!"

The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one; but write
it he did, somehow, and went down stairs to open the street door, ready
for the coming of the poulterer's man.

It _was_ a Turkey! He never could have stood upon his legs, that bird.
He would have snapped 'em short off in a minute, like sticks of
sealing-wax.

Scrooge dressed himself "all in his best," and at last got out into the
streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them
with the Ghost of Christmas Present; and, walking with his hands behind
him, Scrooge regarded every one with a delighted smile. He looked so
irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humored
fellows said: "Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!" and Scrooge
said often afterwards, that, of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard,
those were the blithest in his ears.

In the afternoon, he turned his steps towards his nephew's house.

He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the courage to go up and
knock. But he made a dash, and did it.

"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Scrooge to the girl. Nice girl!
Very.

"Yes, sir."

"Where is he, my love?"

"He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress."

"He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand already on the dining-room
lock. "I'll go in here, my dear."

"Fred!"

"Why, bless my soul!" cried Fred, "who's that?"

"It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I