`` The colour hurts my eyes , '' she said . The colour ? Ah , poor Tiny Tim ! `` They 're better now again , '' said Cratchit 's wife . `` It makes them weak by candle-light ; and I would n't show weak eyes to your father , when he comes home , for the world . It must be near his time . '' `` Past it rather , '' Peter answered , shutting up his book . `` But I think he has walked a little slower than he used , these few last evenings , mother . '' They were very quiet again . At last she said , and in a steady , cheerful voice , that only faltered once : `` I have known him walk with -- I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder very fast indeed . '' `` And so have I , '' cried Peter . `` Often . '' `` And so have I , '' exclaimed another . So had all . `` But he was very light to carry , '' she resumed , intent upon her work , `` and his father loved him so , that it was no trouble : no trouble . And there is your father at the door ! '' She hurried out to meet him ; and little Bob in his comforter -- he had need of it , poor fellow -- came in . His tea was ready for him on the hob , and they all tried who should help him to it most . Then the two young Cratchits got upon his knees , and laid , each child , a little cheek against his face , as if they said , `` Do n't mind it , father . Do n't be grieved ! ''
Bob was very cheerful with them , and spoke pleasantly XXXXX all the family .
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