He shared his counting-house with his clerk, Bob Cratchit, a man whose kindness was as vast as his paycheck was tiny. Bob, who happened to be a frog of great character, shivered in the corner, trying to warm his hands over a single, flickering candle.
The door creaked open, and in bounced Fred, Scrooge’s nephew, a man whose smile could light up the gloomiest alley. "A Merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" "Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!"
"You will be haunted," they replied, "by three spirits. Expect the first when the bell tolls one."