The Haunted Man started, and--woke. The bright sunshine streamed
into the room. The air was sparkling with frost. He ran joyously
to the window and opened it. A small boy saluted him with "Merry
Christmas." The Haunted Man instantly gave him a Bank of England
note. "How much like Tiny Tim, Tom, and Bobby that boy looked,--
bless my soul, what a genius this Dickens has!"

A knock at the door, and Boots entered.

"Consider your salary doubled instantly. Have you read David
Copperfield?"

"Yezzur."

"Your salary is quadrupled. What do you think of the Old Curiosity
Shop?"

The man instantly burst into a torrent of tears, and then into a
roar of laughter.

"Enough! Here are five thousand pounds. Open a porter-house, and
call it, 'Our Mutual Friend.' Huzza! I feel so happy!" And the
haunted Man danced about the room.

And so, bathed in the light of that blessed sun, and yet glowing
with the warmth of a good action, the Haunted Man, haunted no
longer, save by those shapes which make the dreams of children
beautiful, reseated himself in his chair, and finished Our Mutual
Friend.