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J. Edgerton/ The Spirit of Christmas Page 17 Continued
JONAS AND JAMES (SINGING)
“O come all ye faithful. Joyful and triumphant. O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem.
Come and behold him. Born the king of angels. O come let us adore him.
O come let us adore him. O come let us adore him. Christ the lord.”
“Sing, choirs of angels, Sing in exultations. Sing, all ye citizens of heavn above;
Glory to god, Glory in the highest. O come let us adore him.
O come let us adore him. O come let us adore him, Christ the lord!”
An occasional passer-by dropped a coin into the cup held by the littlest Nicholas.
Thorn tipped his hat to them, trying to keep his greedy looks to a minimum. “Sing loudly my little scalawags. We’ve only a few blocks to go of skullduggery. Then you’ll have hot potato soup before a warm fire.”
The Nicholas boys sang louder as they shivered from the falling snow and the wind that seemed to cut right through their shabby clothes, to their very souls.
A wicked smile spread over the face of the villainous Mr. Thorn, as he heard the clink of a coin topple into the cup. “That’s it little alley muffins, shiver more it’s good for business.” His evil chuckle automatically followed and he had to stifle it.
They trudged on, a few coins added to the coffer from smiling patrons.
J. Edgerton/ The Spirit of Christmas Page 18
Mr. Angel continued to follow them unobserved, darting into a doorway as Mr. Thorn glanced slyly behind him, like a common criminal but there was nothing common about him.
They paused before the Gotham Orphanage that rose up with its cold stone presence and
its’ weathered sign. Thorn’s deep voice echoed as ominous as the sight before them, “Gotham
Orphanage, home sweet home! A shelter for wayward boys and girls and a nest to us all!” He
slyly drew a coin from his pocket, and twirled it through his fingers. Weather faced Thorn
then bit down on the rusty coin, to make sure that it was real. He then deposited all of the coin
into the inner pocket of his coat, with an evil chuckle.
IV. “GOTHAM ORPHANAGE”
“Now never you mind about the goings on of my business. You just mind your own. Now off with ya. Get into the hall to prepare for dinner, such as it is,” Thorn’s words echoed behind them. “And not a word to anyone of my business or you’ll see the back of me hand.” He pushed the boy toward the dingy stone building that was their torment and their shelter.
The tall Toymaker glanced after them and then trod cautiously towards Gotham
Orphanage.
Jonas and James paced along the cracked stone pathway and up the front steps of the main entryway, that towered in cold stone before them.
Thorn ushered the boys through the weathered front door to Gotham’s Orphanage.
Mr. Angel paced after them and paused, unobserved, near the entrance.
As they trudged across the worn hard wood floors of Gotham Orphanage, gala Irish music was heard coming from the main hall of building. Thorn herded the boys into the main hall of the orphanage that was filled with every size and make of both orphan boys and girls seated quietly at tables, eating their dinner. Then he turned with an evil look and hurriedly headed down the long hallway with the money they’ve earned.
Jonas and James paced hungrily through the main hall, before a long table with a large, black kettle on top of it and loaves of different types of bread. They both glanced back at a small
makeshift stage where orphans in shabby clothes sat stone faced with instruments, playing an Irish Christmas Ballad. Occasionally a sour note was heard. At a far table sat Men and Women
of the Community who had come to have dinner and support the orphanage. In front of them was a small, black kettle with a sign that said “Donations”.
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