Theywereaboyandgirl。Yellow，meagre，ragged，scowling，wolfish；
butprostrate，too，intheirhumility。Wheregracefulyouthshouldhavefilledtheirfeaturesout，andtouchedthemwithitsfreshesttints，astaleandshrivelledhand，likethatofage，hadpinched，andtwistedthem，andpulledthemintoshreds。Whereangelsmighthavesatenthroned，devilslurked，andglaredoutmenacing。Nochange，nodegradation，noperversionofhumanity，inanygrade，throughallthemysteriesofwonderfulcreation，hasmonstershalfsohorribleanddread。
Scroogestartedback，appalled。Havingthemshowntohiminthisway，hetriedtosaytheywerefinechildren，butthewordschokedthemselves，ratherthanbepartiestoalieofsuchenormousmagnitude。
``Spirit!aretheyyours？’’Scroogecouldsaynomore。
``TheyareMan’s，’’saidtheSpirit，lookingdownuponthem。``Andtheyclingtome，appealingfromtheirfathers。ThisboyisIgnorance。ThisgirlisWant。Bewarethemboth，andalloftheirdegree，butmostofallbewarethisboy，foronhisbrowIseethatwrittenwhichisDoom，unlessthewritingbeerased。Denyit!’’criedtheSpirit，stretchingoutitshandtowardsthecity。``Slanderthosewhotellitye!Admititforyourfactiouspurposes，andmakeitworse!Andbidetheend!’’