Scrooge awoke to a bright light. In front of him was a strange old man.
In some ways he looked ancient, but he had young, childlike features and was dressed in summer flowers.
"Are you the first ghost that Marley predicted?" asked Scrooge.
"Yes, I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," replied the ghost.
"Tonight you will see images of your past, but they will have no awareness of us. Come with me!"
The ghost kindly took Scrooge's hand and walked into the past.
Scrooge could hear his old employer, Mr. Fezziwig, yelling out, "Ebenezer! Dick! Come here, boys.
No more work for today. It's Christmas Eve.
Give me a hand and let's clear away the desks for a party."
Old Scrooge could not believe how young and happy he used to look.
Well, it was a grand party.
Mrs. Fezziwig, the cook, and the maid came in with food and drinks for everyone.
Then the rest of the men and women who worked for the company were invited.
They had a dance and a feast.
Scrooge danced with the prettiest girl all night.
Old Scrooge shed a tear as he remembered the happy old days.
"We must move on," said the Ghost of Christmas Past.
"Can't I just have a few more minutes?" pleaded Scrooge.
"I'm sorry," replied the ghost.
Then Scrooge saw himself a little older, sitting with the girl who he had danced with.
Crying, she said, "You have another love now."
"No," replied Scrooge. "You are the only woman."
"It's not a woman you love. It's gold you love," she said.
"So, go to your true love."
Angrily, old Scrooge shouted, "Get me out of this place. Take me back!"
The ghost nodded, and Scrooge was again sleeping in his bed.
But it seemed only minutes later that Scrooge was awoken by a bright light from his living room.
In the room, a fire was burning brightly.
Sitting by the fire was a jolly ghost, eating meat and drinking wine.
"Come join me," he called. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."
"Lead me, spirit," said Scrooge.
"Tonight I have learned many things. I'm sure you will teach me more."
"Touch my robe," replied the ghost.
Immediately Scrooge and the ghost left the house and were standing in Bob Cratchit's tiny living room.
Scrooge counted four children.
"How does Bob feed them all on his salary?" Scrooge wondered aloud.
Mrs. Cratchit was dressed in a poor and simple dress.
But she had a smile as she cooked the Christmas turkey, prepared the gravy, and dished out the applesauce.
"Where is your father?" she asked. "Church should be finished by now."
"Here he comes," shouted four children at once.
In came Bob Cratchit carrying Tiny Tim.
Tiny Tim was very sick, and his legs never did work.
But Bob loved him because he had a gentle heart.
Soon all seven were seated and ready to eat.
Scrooge had never seen such a warm and loving sight.
Even though their clothes were nearly rags and their house was humble, it was the most handsome family Scrooge had ever seen.
At the end of the meal, Bob raised his glass, saying, "A Merry Christmas to all of us! God bless us!"
Then Tiny Tim repeated, "God bless everyone."
Surprising Scrooge, Bob said, "To Mr. Scrooge, who gave us the money for this meal."
"Mr. Scrooge? No," replied his wife. "He gives us almost nothing."
Bob looked sternly at his wife and said, "It's Christmas."
"Fine," said his wife more politely. "To Mr. Scrooge."
At that, the ghost touched Scrooge, and they were in another house.
He could hear the laughter of his nephew.
"He said that Christmas was a humbug!" cried Scrooge's nephew.
"Shame on him," declared his pretty wife.
"How terrible of him to be rude to you when you were trying to be kind to him."
"Well, it only hurts him," replied Scrooge's nephew.
"Here we sit with each other and good food, and he is in his lonely house.
I feel sorry for him."
"Well, don't!" exclaimed his wife. "'Bah! Humbug!' to him."
And they laughed. Even old Scrooge laughed.
He was a humbug, but he would change.
Then the scene faded, and the Ghost of Christmas Present flew him all over the city.
They went to hospitals and workhouses and saw children suffering.
In the streets they saw men and women freezing, but in the jails they saw the worst misery of all.