Ebeneezer Scrooge was not a man to be taken lightly. That was a lesson that all learned quickly, or the hard way. He was not a kind man. He was not a compassionate man. And yet he was not especially cruel. It was not that Ebeneezer enjoyed the pain of others. It was simply that he was indifferent to it. Scrooge had hardened himself, inwardly and outwardly to such a degree that it seemed nothing could shake him from his immovable state of greed, stinginess, and self possession. He wanted no comfort or quarter from the world, and offered none in return.
Thus it was that he’d never bothered to paint out Jacob Marley’s name from the sign outside the counting house. Why should he? Why spend hard earned money to replace a sign that was perfectly serviceable still? True there were those who mistook him for Marley but it made no difference to him, he answered to both names.
Thus it was also that he rarely, if ever gave a thought to his clerk, Bob Cratchitt, unless the man had done something wrong. He scarcely acknowledged the man’s presence save to give him work, and pay him every week.
Therefore, Scrooge was barely aware of the holiday season. He made no special occasion of Christmas, save that he grudgingly, ever so grudgingly allowed his Clerk the day off. He would have forgotten Christmas entirely were it not for the constant reminders. Noisy carolers, bothersome solicitors, garish decorations. Scrooge thought it all terribly naïve. To forget how cold and uncaring the world was, and carry on with such frivolity. “Bah.” He muttered to himself. “Humbug.”
Unapproachable at the best of times, Scrooge made himself downright foreboding during the Christmas season as somewhat of a defense against the incessant cheer.
He built up such a wall around himself that it was little wonder that he hadn’t noticed his Nephew’s entrance into the counting house until the boy announced himself.
“Merry Christmas Uncle!” Fred greeted warmly. “God save you!”
Scrooge barely glanced up from his papers before growling out “Bah. Humbug.”
“Christmas a humbug uncle? I’m sure you don’t mean that.”
“I do. Merry Christmas,” he grimaced in distaste.
“Oh don’t be cross uncle,” Fred cajoled.
“What else can I be, when I live in such a world of fools? If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips, should be boiled in his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.”
Fred looked at him in shock. “Uncle!”
“Nephew!” Scrooge mocked. “Keep Christmas in your way and let me keep it in mine.”
“But,” Fred stammered. “You don’t keep it. Come come uncle,” Fred tried again. “Dine with us tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you in Hell first.”
“But, but why?” his nephew asked in dismay. No matter how he tried to break through to the only link he had left of his mother, it seemed impossible sometimes. “I want nothing from you. Why can’t we be friends?”
“Good afternoon.”
Fred sighed, resignedly. “I’m sorry to find you so resolute. But I shall keep my Christmas humor to the last. A Merry Christmas Uncle.”
“Good afternoon.”
“And a happy new year!”
“Good afternoon!”
Scrooge hoped that would be the end of the interruptions, and he could get back to work. Sadly, this was not the case. For as Fred left, two portly gentlemen entered.
“Scrooge and Marley’s I presume.” Said one. “Am I addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley?”
Scrooge sighed inwardly, but kept his temper in check. It was possible these two were here for business, and if that were the case, he could at least be civil. “Mr. Marley has been dead for seven years.” He told them. “He died seven years ago, this very night in fact.”
Unrattled, the gentleman soldiered on. “I have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner. At this joyous time of the year Mr. Scrooge, it is more than usually desirable to make some slight provision for the poor, who suffer greatly at the present time.”
Ebeneezer groaned. Was there no escape from this foolishness? He tried to keep the world at bay, but it simply would not let him be. “Are there no prisons, no poorhouses?” he asked, hoping to get his point across with minimal fuss.
“Plenty of prisons sir.”
“And the workhouses are still in operation?”
“They are, though I wish I could say they were not.”
“The treadmill, and the poor law are in full vigor then.”
“Both, very busy sir.”
Scrooge sighed with relief. “Oh good. For a moment I thought from what you have said that something had happened to stop them in their usual course”
“Under the understanding that they hardly provide Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude, we are endeavoring to raise funds to buy the poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time especially because it is a time when want is most keenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What shall we put you down for?”
“Nothing.”
“You wish to remain anonymous?”
What in the name of all that is holy was wrong with these men? How could anyone, even charity workers be so dense? “I wish, to be left alone. My taxes go to support the establishments I have mentioned, they cost enough, and those who are badly off must go there.”
“But, many can’t go there. And many would rather die.” The second man finally spoke up.
“If they’d rather die then they’d better do it. And decrease the surplus population.” At that he finally got his point across and the fat men beat a hasty retreat. Scrooge relaxed, and smiled. Or at least his scowl became less stringent. Maybe the rest of the day would-
“God rest ye merry gentlemen-“ Outside his door, a young man began singing. Not only was the interruption unappreciated, the boy’s voice was horrendous. Scrooge seized the poker from the fireplace and brandished it threateningly.
_____
“Bloody old git,” the boy swore once he was safely away. “I oughta-“
“Easy there ducks.” A withered voice said, as an old hand lay upon his shoulder. The boy looked and saw a stooped, heavyset woman looking with a mysterious smile at the counting house door. “Sumfinks in the wind me lad. Ebyneezer’ll get more’n ‘e bargained for this Yule.”
“Whatchoo mean Hettie?” the boy asked. All street folk knew her, though not all were as polite as this one. Most added the name Mad before calling her Hettie. As a reward, Hettie gave him a gold coin.
“You wait an’ see boy.” She grinned. “Reckon tomorry’ll be a remarkable.”