December 19

Of course, whenever I think of humbugs, I cannot help but think of the casserole dish on the filagreed silver stand that stood on the buffet in Grandpa's dining room. It was always filled to almost overflowing with humbugs!

"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.    "Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!"    He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.    "Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure."    "I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."    "Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."

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