The boy was off like a shot . He must have had a steady hand at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast . `` I 'll send it to Bob Cratchit 's , '' whispered Scrooge , rubbing his hands , and splitting with a laugh . `` He sha n't know who sends it . It 's twice the size of Tiny Tim . Joe Miller never made such a joke as sending it to Bob 's will be ! '' The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one ; but write it he did , somehow , and went down-stairs to open the street-door , ready for the coming of the poulterer 's man . As he stood there , waiting his arrival , the knocker caught his eye . `` I shall love it as long as I live ! '' cried Scrooge , patting it with his hand . `` I scarcely ever looked at it before . What an honest expression it has in its face ! It 's a wonderful knocker ! -- Here 's the Turkey . Hallo ! Whoop ! How are you ? Merry Christmas ! '' It was a Turkey ! He never could have stood upon his legs , that bird .
He would have snapped 'em short off XXXXX a minute , like sticks of sealing-wax .
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