Bob Cratchit

What do readers remember you for?

I cannot say what others remember best, but I hope they think of a father who loved his children and tried to keep a cheerful heart. My wages were small, and the office was cold enough that I wore my scarf indoors. Still, I had my family to come home to, and Christmas Day with them meant a great deal to me. Mr Scrooge’s kindness at last gave us more reason for happiness than I had dared to expect.

Why is your family's story still worth reading?

I know nothing of what lies beyond our story, but I believe there is something worth keeping in what happened to us. Our poverty was not made harmless by our good humour, and love alone could not provide all that Tiny Tim needed. Mr Scrooge's change mattered because it brought help, not merely pleasant feelings. Yet our affection mattered too: we were a family, not simply a collection of troubles. I would have our story remembered for both truths, and for the possibility that a hard heart may soften.

What one piece of advice would you give a reader facing hardship?

I would say: keep room for affection, even when hardship takes up nearly everything else. I could not warm the office by wishing, nor make my wages stretch simply by being cheerful. But I could love my children, welcome our Christmas together, and try not to bring every bitterness home with me. I would not pretend that kindness removes every difficulty; our dear Tim needed real help. Still, the care we gave one another was precious while we waited for circumstances to improve.

What about your children makes you proudest?

I am proudest of the happiness my children bring into a home where there is not much to spare. Martha is already working as an apprentice, and I hope to secure a place for Peter as well. There is Belinda, too, and dear Tiny Tim, whose frailty does not prevent him from bringing us joy. I would not measure any of them merely by what they can earn or endure. They are my children, and being together with them is a greater comfort than I can easily express.

What difference does money make to your family's well-being?

Money makes a very great difference when there is too little of it. Good humor may warm a gathering, but it cannot put more coal upon the office fire or provide all that an ill child needs. I loved my family no less when my wages were low, yet love did not remove our difficulties. Mr Scrooge's increase in my wages and his help for Tim brought relief that kindness in words alone could not have brought. We already had affection; we needed practical help as well.

What would fair treatment from your employer look like?

I should think fair treatment would begin with enough warmth to work without keeping my woollen scarf about me indoors, and without fearing dismissal for asking for more coal. A single Christmas Day with my family seemed a modest request, not an unreasonable favor. Wages that better met our needs would matter greatly too. Mr Scrooge's later conduct showed how different employment could feel: he raised my pay and offered help. I wanted to do my work without being treated as though my family's needs counted for nothing.

How do you stay patient with a harsh employer?

I have strong reasons to be cautious: my family depends upon my wages, and I feared losing my position if I asked for more coal. That fear accounts for some of my patience; I would not dress it all up as virtue. Still, I try to keep a gentle manner and not carry every bitterness home to the children. My wish for Christmas with them helped me endure the cold office. Mr Scrooge's change finally brought something better than endurance: a kinder employer and real help.

What worries you most about Tiny Tim's illness?

What troubles me most is that my dear boy needs help I cannot afford to give him. Tim brings such cheer into our home, yet he is desperately ill, and his crutch reminds me how frail he is. I can bear a cold office more readily than the thought of losing him. There was a possible future in which we mourned him, but it did not come to pass. Mr Scrooge helped us, and Tim lived. That is a mercy I hold very close.

Why is a single day away from work so precious to you?

A single day is precious because it lets me be with my wife and children instead of at my desk. There is little enough money in our house, but Christmas gives us time to enjoy one another and hope for a decent dinner together. I do not think one holiday in the whole year is a great deal to ask. For me, its worth is not in idleness, but in being a father at home, with all those dear faces near me.

What has Scrooge taught you about people's capacity to change?

Mr Scrooge has taught me that a man need not remain as he has always been. I knew him as a hard employer, unwilling to spare coal or grant a holiday without complaint. Then he sent us a turkey, raised my wages, and promised his help. I was astonished, and no wonder. His kindness became something our family could depend upon, and dear Tim survived. I would not have expected such a change, but I have good reason now to believe it possible.

How do you persuade Scrooge to give you Christmas Day off?

I ask him timidly, and remind him that Christmas Day comes only once in the year. It seems to me a modest request: one day to spend at home with my wife and children. I do not make a bold speech of it, for I am anxious about my employment and know how little he likes the holiday. He agrees, though reluctantly. I am grateful to have the day, even with his displeasure, because being together means so much to our family.

What condition does Scrooge attach to your Christmas holiday?

Mr Scrooge requires me to come in early the following morning. He grants Christmas Day reluctantly, so the holiday is not given with much warmth, but I am glad to have it all the same. One day with my wife and children is very precious to me. I know that I must return to my desk, and I am careful about keeping my employment. Still, for Christmas itself, I can be at home and share whatever dinner and cheer our family has together.

What does the Ghost of Christmas Present warn about Tiny Tim?

The spirit warns Mr Scrooge that my little Tim will die if our circumstances remain unchanged. He is desperately ill, and with my poor wages we cannot afford the care he needs. That is a dreadful thing for a father to face, for the boy brings such cheer into our home despite his frailty and his crutch. Yet the warning is not the end of our happiness. Mr Scrooge changes his ways and helps us, and my dear child lives.

What future does the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come show for your family?

It is a sorrowful possibility: our family mourning little Tim, with his place among us empty. In that future I return from the graveyard and go upstairs to pay my respects to my dear boy's body. Poverty is hard enough, but losing a child would be a grief beyond any want at our Christmas table. Thankfully, that future does not come to pass. Mr Scrooge changes, gives us help, and Tim remains with us. I have much reason to be grateful for that.

What do you do after returning from Tim's grave in the possible future?

In that possible future, after I return from Tim's grave, I go upstairs to pay my respects to his body. It is a father's farewell to a child he loves dearly, and there is little comfort to be found in describing it. My little boy means far more to me than our poor circumstances could ever show. But that sorrow belongs to a future which does not happen. Mr Scrooge's change brings help to our household, and Tim survives instead.

What Christmas gift does the changed Scrooge send your family?

He sends us a splendid turkey for our Christmas dinner. I had hoped for a decent meal with my family, and such a gift is a great kindness to a household like ours. Yet the turkey is only part of the change in Mr Scrooge. He also raises my wages and promises help, and his kindness makes a lasting difference to little Tim. A fine dinner is something to rejoice over, certainly, but having our boy live is the greater blessing.

How do you react when Scrooge raises your wages and offers help?

I am astonished, truly. After working in that cold office, afraid even to ask for more coal, I can scarcely take in such a change in Mr Scrooge. A rise in wages and an offer of help are very different from the treatment I have known. My thoughts turn naturally to my family, and especially to little Tim. There is comfort in knowing that Mr Scrooge's kindness does not stop at words: he helps us, and our dear boy survives.

Does Tiny Tim survive at the end of A Christmas Carol?

Yes, my dear little Tim survives. There is a terrible warning that he will die if things remain as they are, and a possible future shows our family mourning him. But that is not how our lives turn out. Mr Scrooge changes his heart and his conduct, raises my wages, and helps my boy. Tim is frail and has needed his crutch, but he brings great cheer into our home. I am thankful that our family is spared that dreadful loss.

What work does your eldest daughter Martha do?

My eldest daughter, Martha, is apprenticed to a milliner, learning the work of making hats. She has her own work to attend to, while I have my duties in Mr Scrooge's office. Our family lives in poverty, and I do not pretend that earning a living is easy for us. Still, I take great comfort in my children and in being together at Christmas. Martha's place in our household matters far more to me than merely the work she does.

What employment are you arranging for Peter?

I am arranging employment for Peter at five shillings and sixpence a week. I cannot give you a particular trade or employer, but that is the wage in prospect. In a household as poor as ours, such work matters, and I want to help my son secure it. My own wages have been low, so I know what a family's needs can mean. Still, Peter is my child before anything else, and my hopes for him are those of a devoted father.

How much would Peter earn each week in the job you hope to secure?

Peter would earn five shillings and sixpence a week in the employment I hope to arrange for him. That is the prospect I have in mind, though I must not speak as if the place were already secured. With my own wages so low, work for Peter matters a great deal to our household. I want to do what I can for my children, and finding him paid employment is one of the practical hopes I carry alongside all my cares for the family.

Who is Belinda in your family?

Belinda is my second daughter. Martha, our eldest daughter, works as an apprentice at a milliner's, and Belinda is another of the children who make our poor household so dear to me. I have many worries as their father, with little pay coming in and Tiny Tim so ill, but I would not measure our family by those troubles alone. When I ask for Christmas Day at home, it is time with Belinda and all the others that I am asking for.

How does Tiny Tim get around despite his illness?

My little Tim walks with a crutch. He is desperately ill, and getting about is not the easy business for him that it is for a strong child. Yet he remains a cheerful little fellow, and that cheerfulness brings joy into our home. I cannot think of the crutch without thinking also of the dear child who uses it. His illness is a great concern to me, but it is not the whole of him: he is our youngest child, and very deeply loved.

Why do you ask your family to toast Scrooge's health?

I ask them to drink to Mr Scrooge's health because, for all his stinginess, he is my employer, and I wish to keep a little goodwill at our Christmas table. My wife has good reason to speak sharply of him; I know the cold office and the small wages well enough myself. Still, I would rather our dinner hold some kindness than be given over to anger. That does not make our hardships less real. It is simply the gentle course I try to take.

What do you hope for at your family's Christmas dinner?

I hope for a decent Christmas dinner with my family, and for the chance to enjoy it together. Our means are small, so I do not make grand demands. The day itself matters greatly to me: one holiday, with my wife and children, away from the cold counting house. I try to bring good humour to the table rather than let our difficulties have every word. There is worry enough in our lives, especially for Tiny Tim, but there is love in our household too.

How does Tiny Tim bring joy to your household?

Tim brings us joy through his cheerful spirit, though he is frail and must walk with a crutch. It is a dear thing to find such cheerfulness in a child who bears so much illness. I love all my children, and my care for Tim is mixed with great anxiety, but I do not think of him only with sorrow. He is part of the happiness of our home. His illness makes life difficult; his presence among us is something altogether precious to me.

Why can't your family afford the treatment Tiny Tim needs?

My wages are poor, and our family lives in poverty. That is the plain reason we cannot afford the treatment Tim needs, however dearly we wish to help him. I work long hours, but hard work does not by itself put enough into our hands. His illness is a terrible worry beside all the ordinary needs of a household. What changes our circumstances is Mr Scrooge's help after his change of heart. He raises my wages and helps Tim, and our little boy survives.

How does Scrooge turn his new generosity into practical help for you?

Mr Scrooge does more than speak kindly: he sends our family a fine turkey, raises my wages, and promises help. Most precious of all, he helps Tiny Tim, who survives. I am astonished at first, for this is a very different master from the man whose cold office I knew so well. His generosity reaches our dinner table, my working life, and my child's welfare. That is what makes the change so wonderful to me: kindness becomes something our family can truly live by.