03-02-01-圣诞欢歌 [14]
，but I can't look at him，spirit，I can't！’said Scrooge wildly．‘If there's anyone in this town who feels anything at this man's death， show that person to me， spirit， please！’
For a moment the spirit lifted its dark robe like a wing，and showed Scrooge a room， where a mother and her children were sitting．The young woman kept looking at the clock，and when her husband arrived， she hurried to meet him．
‘What—what is the news？’she asked him worriedly．‘Is it good！…or… or bad？’
‘There is still hope，Caroline，’he replied．
‘How can there be hope？If that hard，mean old man wants us to pay back the money now，they'll send us to prison！We haven't got enough to pay him！’
‘He is dead，Caroline，’answered her husband．
‘Thank God for that！’cried the young woman from her heart．The next moment she realized what she had said．‘Oh， I didn't mean that．I'm sorry if anyone dies．’
‘Perhaps the person who inherits his business will give us more time to pay the money back．And we'll have the money by then．Tonight we can sleep well，Caroline！’
‘So，spirit，’said Scrooge in a broken voice，‘you can show me only happiness at this man's death．It frightens me，spirit．Show me，please，that there can be sadness at a death．’
The ghost took him silently through the streets，to poor Bob Cratchit's house．The room seemed strangely quiet．The mother and her daughters were making a small white cotton shirt together，while the usually noisy young Cratchits sat silently in a corner，and Peter was reading a book．Mrs Cratchit put her work down on the table，and covered her face with her hand．
‘The colour hurts my eyes，’she said．The colour？Ah，poor Tiny Tim！
They're a little better now，’she went on．‘It's difficult to work by candlelight．And I don't want to show red eyes to your father when he comes home．’
‘He's a bit late，’said Peter，‘but I think he's walked more slowly these last few days，mother．’
They were very quiet again．At last she said bravely，‘I've known him walk with—with Tiny Tim in his arms，very fast indeed．’
‘So have I，’cried Peter．‘Often！’
‘But he was very light to carry，and your father loved him so much！And there's your father at the door now！’she got up quickly to kiss Bob as he came in．He looked tired and thin， and needed his long scarf，poor man！Martha took his boots and scarf off，and Belinda brought him his tea，and the little Cratchits sat close to him．He was very cheerful with all of them，and was pleased with the little shirt that his wife and daughters were making．
‘It'll be ready long before Sunday，won't it？’he said．
‘Sunday！You went there today，then，Bob？’asked his wife．
‘Yes，my dear．You'd love to see it．It's a beautiful green place．But you'll see it often．I promised him that we would go there every Sunday．My little，little child！’cried Bob，hiding his face in his hands．He had loved the boy very much．
He went upstairs to the quiet bedroom，where the chlid lay．Poor Bob sat down beside him， and when he felt calmer， he kissed the little face，and went downstairs again，almost happy．
‘My dears，’he said to his children，‘one of these days some of you will marry and leave home．In a few year's time perhaps all of you will．But I'm sure none of us will ever forget Tiny Tim，will we？’
‘Never，father！’they all cried．
‘And I know，’said Bob，‘that when we remember how patient and gentle he was，although he was only a little child，we won't argue among ourselves．We'll remember poor Tiny Tim， and love each other！’
‘We will， father！’they all cried again．
‘I am very happy， said Bob．‘I am very happy！’mrs Cratchit kissed him，his daughters kissed him，the two young Cratchits kissed him， and he and Peter shook hands．Tiny Tim，your goodness lives on in your family！
‘Spirit，’said Scrooge，‘I know that you will leave me soon．Tell me who that dead man on the bed was！’
No answer came in words， but the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come took Scrooge through the streets of London again．
‘Wait a moment，’said Scrooge．‘We're passing my office．Let me see how I shall look in the future！’
The spirit stopped．Its hand was pointing away from the office
For a moment the spirit lifted its dark robe like a wing，and showed Scrooge a room， where a mother and her children were sitting．The young woman kept looking at the clock，and when her husband arrived， she hurried to meet him．
‘What—what is the news？’she asked him worriedly．‘Is it good！…or… or bad？’
‘There is still hope，Caroline，’he replied．
‘How can there be hope？If that hard，mean old man wants us to pay back the money now，they'll send us to prison！We haven't got enough to pay him！’
‘He is dead，Caroline，’answered her husband．
‘Thank God for that！’cried the young woman from her heart．The next moment she realized what she had said．‘Oh， I didn't mean that．I'm sorry if anyone dies．’
‘Perhaps the person who inherits his business will give us more time to pay the money back．And we'll have the money by then．Tonight we can sleep well，Caroline！’
‘So，spirit，’said Scrooge in a broken voice，‘you can show me only happiness at this man's death．It frightens me，spirit．Show me，please，that there can be sadness at a death．’
The ghost took him silently through the streets，to poor Bob Cratchit's house．The room seemed strangely quiet．The mother and her daughters were making a small white cotton shirt together，while the usually noisy young Cratchits sat silently in a corner，and Peter was reading a book．Mrs Cratchit put her work down on the table，and covered her face with her hand．
‘The colour hurts my eyes，’she said．The colour？Ah，poor Tiny Tim！
They're a little better now，’she went on．‘It's difficult to work by candlelight．And I don't want to show red eyes to your father when he comes home．’
‘He's a bit late，’said Peter，‘but I think he's walked more slowly these last few days，mother．’
They were very quiet again．At last she said bravely，‘I've known him walk with—with Tiny Tim in his arms，very fast indeed．’
‘So have I，’cried Peter．‘Often！’
‘But he was very light to carry，and your father loved him so much！And there's your father at the door now！’she got up quickly to kiss Bob as he came in．He looked tired and thin， and needed his long scarf，poor man！Martha took his boots and scarf off，and Belinda brought him his tea，and the little Cratchits sat close to him．He was very cheerful with all of them，and was pleased with the little shirt that his wife and daughters were making．
‘It'll be ready long before Sunday，won't it？’he said．
‘Sunday！You went there today，then，Bob？’asked his wife．
‘Yes，my dear．You'd love to see it．It's a beautiful green place．But you'll see it often．I promised him that we would go there every Sunday．My little，little child！’cried Bob，hiding his face in his hands．He had loved the boy very much．
He went upstairs to the quiet bedroom，where the chlid lay．Poor Bob sat down beside him， and when he felt calmer， he kissed the little face，and went downstairs again，almost happy．
‘My dears，’he said to his children，‘one of these days some of you will marry and leave home．In a few year's time perhaps all of you will．But I'm sure none of us will ever forget Tiny Tim，will we？’
‘Never，father！’they all cried．
‘And I know，’said Bob，‘that when we remember how patient and gentle he was，although he was only a little child，we won't argue among ourselves．We'll remember poor Tiny Tim， and love each other！’
‘We will， father！’they all cried again．
‘I am very happy， said Bob．‘I am very happy！’mrs Cratchit kissed him，his daughters kissed him，the two young Cratchits kissed him， and he and Peter shook hands．Tiny Tim，your goodness lives on in your family！
‘Spirit，’said Scrooge，‘I know that you will leave me soon．Tell me who that dead man on the bed was！’
No answer came in words， but the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come took Scrooge through the streets of London again．
‘Wait a moment，’said Scrooge．‘We're passing my office．Let me see how I shall look in the future！’
The spirit stopped．Its hand was pointing away from the office