Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

The curtains are still here. They're still here!
l've come to them.
More bread.
And every Christmas, it's
Bed curtains.
Look there's Old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig, top couple!
Won't it, Martha, my dear? Eh, Tim?
We...
From now on,
Thank you, Sir, and a Merry Christmas to you, Sir, l'm sure.
Then you no longer love me?
lt's poetic justice.
you old humbug!
the story l'm going to relate.
Alice?
Now see yourself in business, Ebenezer.
A place where miners live, who labor in the bowels of the earth.
This must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful can come of
Oh, but gentlemen it could have been any one of you.
l'm sure of it. - And the pudding! Oh, the pudding!
Yes, thank you, Ma-ma. Did you get the big goose?
Ha, well if it ain't, l don't know what is.
l confess, l've had my doubts about the quantity of flour.
Why, that's you, Peter! What is it, Father? Yeah, what is it?
He doesn't know me, nor even what l look like.
And the offer is a very large one, l have to admit,
For which your father never forgave you, as if you were to blame.
Path to exile your Commander!
The ruin of you, you mean.
Dear Mrs. Dilbur, oh... how much do l pay you?
lt's Fan!
Who's the wiser?
And l do repent, l do repent!
With angelic hosts, proclaim,
We small traders are all history, Mr. Fezziwig.
We're men of vision and progress.
Spirit, are these yours?
You do not know the weight and length of strong chain you bear yourself.
for having no eyes to see with, no ears to hear with,
Now let me see, l must have a label.
l await you.
Pardon me...
and have not charity, l am nothing.
Then why should you ask me for more time to pay it back?
ln life, l was your partner,
Then, you must live forever, Fan.
By changing toward the world.
l wish to be left alone.
Keep valentines day in your own way and leave me keep it in mine
ls he dead?
Well, what do you want?
and you won't find a hole in it.
l'll come in a minute. - All right.
Good.
Join the triumph of the skies;
They cling to me for protection from their fetters.
lt'll be a perfect pudding my love. A perfect pudding.
No?
would be poor compensation for the panic that would arise among the share holders.
l must bow to your conviction that you are.
left in the whole wide world.
How did little Tim behave in church?
Merry Christmas, Sir!
Aaaaaaaaah!
After you, l'm sure.
You must be cold and tired. Sit near the fire.
What do you mean wasted it?
Sit you down before the fire,
Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?
And l wouldn't show your father weak eyes, when he comes home, for the world.
He shall call upon me, and l will answer him :
Oh, so you hate progress and money too, do you?
Well, a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the poor old man.
lt never would have been Christmas, if they'd kept you late.
No.
eight shillings and 10 pence.