“One hundred twenty-one, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-three…” Scrooge muttered, his thin lips pursed as he stacked the last coin. He paused, squinting at the desk with rheumy eyes. Last time he counted, there had been 124.
“Who stole my sovereign?” he thundered, slamming
“Uh, Harmony?”
Harmony dropped her ukulele with a clatter and glanced at the owl perched nearby. “Yes, Aldo?”
“You have an”—he tilted his head, blinking slowly—“an interesting visitor.”
Harmony leapt up. “Ooh, splendid! I adore the interesting ones.” She skipped to the oval door and flung it open. “Well, hello th—what
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