Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

On this Christmas Eve, once again, Lionel Berrymore sets aside his role as mayor of the town.

To take you back to a Christmas Eve 100 years ago with his unforgettable

portrayal of Scrooge. And now Lionel Barrymore in Dickens, a Christmas carol. Oh, Once upon a Christmas Eve, on a mean and shabby street in London, stood the warehouse of Scrooge and Marley.

Marley was seven years dead, but Scrooge never bothered to paint out the name.

It was a waste of time, paint, and money.

Oh, he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, was Ebenezer Scrooge, a squeezing, grasping,

clutching covetous old sinner.

A frosty rhyme was on his head and on his eyebrows and on his

wiry chin and the cold within him iced his office in the dog days and didn't thawed

out one degree at Christmas. A fact that could be

attested by Bob Cratchit is overworked in shivering Clark. And what do you think you're about to do with that cold struggle Mr. Kresid?

Well you see my stoves gone out, Mr. Scrood.

Indeed.

It was a very small fire to begin with...

Tell me, Miss Trezid, you like working here?

Oh, yes, yes indeed, sir. And you have need of the 15 Bob by a failure every week?

Need? Oh yes indeed, sir. You see there's my wife and Tiny Tim and Melinton, Martin.

Well, then may I suggest you forget the fire and get back to your work.

Unless of course you would prefer to keep Christmas by losing your situation.

No, sir.

I'll get on with copying those letters at once, sir.

...