Asa Don Dickinson 
The Children’s Book of Christmas Stories 

‘Yo Ho! my boys, ‘ said Fezziwig. ‘No more work tonight! Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let’s have the shutters up!’ cried old Fezziwig with a sharp clap of his hands, ‘before a man can say Jack Robinson….’ ‘Hilli-ho!’ cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk with wonderful agility. ‘Clear away, my lads, and let’s have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Cheer-up, Ebenezer!’ Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn’t have cleared away, or couldn’t have cleared away with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ballroom as you would desire to see on a winter’s night.