Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Both of us?
What for?
Pawn my soul, l can't think of anyone who'll go to it.
Promise me... you'll take care of my boy.
What would make Mr. Scrooge take such leave of his senses suddenly?
You heard her.
Why, suppose l told you, you could get twice the salary
Well, gentlemen, after seventeen years of existence,
Why l've known him walk, with tiny Tim on his shoulder, very fast, indeed.
Oh, pity me, Spirit, pity me! And help me!
No more. l cannot bear it.
Come on everybody. Everybody!
They're men of business, very wealthy, very important.
We were wrong. - Huh?
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Aaaah... - Eh?
Hear me! My time is nearly gone.
before we come here, l believe.
Time? ... Time for what?
l cannot change. l can't.
I haven't barfed in a week! And oh, what unsoiled pants I have!
Yes, to Scrooge! Uncle Scrooge!
But why? ... Why?
He's coming mother! Father's here with tiny Tim!
l hope so, Mr. Marley.
I suppose you'll want the whole day, Friday!
you're an embezzler of the company's funds.
He couldn't have looked uglier than what he did in this one.
the Amalgamated Mercantile Society's books show the startling figures
and won't even come to dinner with us. And what's the consequence?
One shadow more. - No!
Those who are badly off must go there.
Yes, l do, l do, l do, ... l must.
Hi.
l think we have many things in common, Mr. Scrooge.
Well, we have no doubt that his generosity is well represented
Aren't you?
Order, order!
Oh, oh Jacob.
ls it such a terrible thing for a man to struggle for something better than he is?
lt must be near his time. - Past it, rather.
a golden idol took possession of your heart ...
We're not gonna pick holes in each other's coats, l suppose.
I'll send it to Bob Cratchit!
l was a boy here.
ln fact, he died seven years ago this very day.
He'll be very happy and very merry, no doubt.
You'll all lose without me.
What would you say to that, eh?
Come in! ... Come in!
Can't take me wife to a debtors' prison.
There's more of gravy than a grave in you,
At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,
An enchanting boy.
They are man's.
All chomping at the bit for Christmas to begin, eh?
For that matter, what have l got to do with it? Good afternoon.
Just shut the door of the shop. Oh! How it screeks!
Forgive me, Fan. Forgive me.
l can't bear to let them tease you.
You are! you are. Dear God, you must!