The event was one of pleasure let me see some

the event, was one of pleasure.
``Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,'' said Scrooge; ``or that dark
chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me.''
The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet; and as they went
along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. They
entered poor Bob Cratchit's house; the dwelling he had visited before; and found the
mother and the children seated round the fire.
Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as statues 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.

99
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
faultered 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.