Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist: clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold, cold, piping for the blood to dance to: Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious!



“What’s to-day?” cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.

“Eʜ?” returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.

“What’s to-day, my fine fellow?” said Scrooge.

“To-day!” replied the boy. “Why, Nyxmas Day!”

“It’s Nyxmas Day!” said Scrooge to himself. “I haven’t missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!”

“Hallo!” returned the boy.