Foggier yet

Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. If the good Saint Dunstan had but nipped the Evil Spirit's nose with a touch of such weather as that, instead of using his familiar weapons, then indeed he wow gold would have roared to lusty purpose. The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at Scrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol: but at the first sound of God bless you, merry gentleman! May nothing you dismay! Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial frost. At length the hour cheap wow gold of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With an ill-will Scrooge dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the fact to the Aion Gold expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat.

``You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?'' said Scrooge.

``If quite convenient, Sir.''

``It's not convenient,'' said Scrooge, ``and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I 'll be bound?''

The clerk smiled faintly.

``And yet,'' said Scrooge, ``you don't buy wow gold think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work.'' The clerk observed that it was only once a year.

``A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!'' said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the aion gold chin. ``But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning!''