"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking around.
"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits; for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from church, and had come home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.
Martha, Bob Cratchit's daughter, is prominent in only this scene of the novel. She is obviously the oldest of his children, since she works outside the Cratchit household. She is participating in a joke on Bob here, but simply can't stand to upset her father. It is a homecoming scene, Bob relishing the return of his daughter on Christmas Day.
This morning, I'm going to pick my daughter up from summer camp. She's been gone a whole week, and, while I enjoyed the quiet for the first few days, I have missed her a great deal. I know she's going to be exhausted today. She's a kid that needs her sleep, and summer camp is not a place where you rest very much. Her giggling cabin mates have probably driven her crazy at night. Thus, I'm prepared to have a very crabby little girl at home for the next few days.
It's getting near the time to leave. It takes about a half hour to get there. It's located on the shores of a beautiful inland lake. On Monday, I have to go back to the camp to play with Underground Praise, the band I'm a part of. I'm hoping the rain will hold off today until I get my daughter in the car. Then it can pour as far as I'm concerned.
Saint Marty is ready to collect his Martha.
Confessions of Saint Marty