Scrooge was still trying to recover from his shock about Tiny Tim when Bob Cratchit arrived home. The man's cheeks were red from the cold, and he was huddled into a thick scarf. Belinda rushed to bring her father a hot cup of tea. Peter hung up Bob's coat while the younger two children folded the scarf and put it away.
Once their father was settled by the fire, Sam and Sarah hugged his knees.
"Don't be sad, Father," Sam said softly. "Tiny Tim would want us to be happy."
Bob smiled at them, though his eyes were mournful. "I know Tiny Tim would want us to be cheerful. But it's difficult to feel happy when we miss him so much, isn't it?" His gaze wandered toward the tiny crutch that was leaning against the wall. "We'll go to church tomorrow for his funeral. After that, we'll just have to try to go on with life and be happy, as best as we can."
His wife patted his hand. "Yes, we'll manage somehow."
"Oh!" Cratchit sat up a little straighter. "I meant to tell you, dear, I met Mr. Scrooge's nephew, Fred, in the street today."
"Did you?" His wife brushed a few tears from her eyes.
"Yes. Fred remembered me and greeted me by name," Cratchit said. "I was quite impressed by his friendliness because we only met a few times. He even noticed that I looked unusually sad."
"So unlike his uncle," Mrs. Cratchit murmured.
Her husband nodded. "That's for sure. I told Fred the sad news about our Tim. He said, 'I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit, and heartily sorry for your good wife. If I can be of help to you in any way, please come to me.' And then he gave me his card." Cratchit smiled weakly. "It truly seemed as if Fred had known Tiny Tim and missed him."
Mrs. Cratchit looked down. "Nobody who knew Tiny Tim will ever forget him," she said softly.
"No, never, Mother!" the children cried.
"We must also remember how patient and mild Tim was," Cratchit said. "His example will remind us never to be unkind to others. Tiny Tim wouldn't like it."
"No, never, Father!" the children said.
Scrooge felt tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. He never could have imagined that so many people would feel such strong love for a young child. Then Scrooge remembered his sister, Fan, and the happy times they'd spent together as children. Fan had meant so much to him back then.
Whoosh! The phantom startled him by waving its cloak over the whole scene. Now the Cratchits were standing together in a snowy churchyard. Martha was there, too, holding her mother's hand. Friends and neighbors stood nearby, and Fred was hurrying to join everyone.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Cratchit," Fred said, taking off his hat.
"Thank you, sir," Bob Cratchit said, shaking Fred's hand. "We already miss Tiny Tim very much."
"He was a wonderful boy," Fred said.
Cratchit's eyes filled with tears. "He was indeed."
Scrooge watched Tiny Tim's brothers and sisters move closer to Tiny Tim's grave, all holding hands.
"I wish Tiny Tim could have lived another week, at least," Peter said. "He always loved Christmas. It doesn't seem fair that he has to miss it."
"It doesn't seem fair at all!" Scrooge said. "I've seen enough, spirit. I've learned my lesson. Please take me home."
The spirit didn't speak. But from the way it lifted its arm, Scrooge knew what it was telling him: "Not yet. There is more to see."
Tiny Tim's funeral was gone, and now Scrooge was back in the heart of the bustling city. He looked around at the shops lining both sides of the street.
"Why have you brought me here?" he asked the spirit. "It's not a place where I ever spent time."
The spirit drifted toward a particular shop. Scrooge followed, squinting to make out the name on the sign out front. It was dusted with fresh snow.
"Richard Wilkins, Tailor," he read aloud. "Oh! We're back to visit Dick Wilkins again. But I'm still quite confused, spirit. Are you saying that Wilkins is the only one who will miss me after I've died?"
The spirit stared at Scrooge for a moment before beckoning him to follow. Together they entered the tailor's shop.