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There was an almighty banging at the door. Mrs Cratchett hurried along the hallway.
"Alright, there's no need to deafen us!" she shouted as she approached their front door. She opened it carefully, with Tiny Tim clutched to her hip.
"Deck the halls with boughs of Holly!" sang three figures, clad in cloaks and hats.
"Carol singers, Ma'am," said one, a young woman, who was clearly a maid to the other pair. One was a tall lady whose face was covered in a mourning veil. The other, a short and stocky gentleman who was wearing a top hat.
"If I had a spare farthing, I'd let you have it," said Mrs Cratchett. "But my husband's employer is not the most generous and we barely have enough for our Christmas dinner tomorrow."
"Don't you worry about that, Mrs," said the young lady. "We're 'ere just to spread a little cheer. No more."
"Why does the small human emerge from your waist?" asked the gentleman. "Is this how your race reproduces? By some kind of Mitosis?"
Mrs Cratchett looked confused. "No, Tiny Tim here can't walk so I carry him about the house."
The lady stepped forward. "Does he require medical assistance?" she asked.
"Oh, gracious me, no!" Mrs Cratchett replied. "We couldn't afford sight of a Doctor on what my husband's employer pays."
"Perhaps your husband should ask for a raise?"
"From Eberneezer Scrooge? He might as much ask for my skin to be green."
"Stranger things have occurred, Madam," said the lady. "I would that we could help. My retainer here has nursing experience, but I fear that your child would not survive his methods."
'Don't you fret on our account. We Cratchetts are tough."
"Of that I am sure. Still, I am not without influence. Perhaps we could visit this Eberneezer Scrooge and appeal to his humanity?"
"If you could melt that heart, you could walk on the waters of the Thames on a summers day."
"Still, I think we shall visit him. What do you say, Strax?"
"He sounds like a formidable foe. Should I pack the cluster grenades?"
"I was thinking more of the mental projection instrumentation. A few visions might help make our case."
The gentleman nodded and bowed to his mistress. THe lady turned back to Mrs Cratchett.
"We have detained you for too long. We must take our leave. But I hope that we can make tomorrow a very Merry Christmas for you."
Tiny Tim gazed into the lady's veil. "God bless you, every one!" he said as Mrs Cratchett closed the door.