“Ah, then--let me see--we’ll give him a couple of ulcers. Mercury, just look in at the Punishment Department, and order a couple of large ulcers to be sent to number one hundred and two, and look sharp back. Next, please.” “Number one hundred and three. Living and prosperous. Regular in his righteousness. Further details at the Virtue Record Department.” “We ought to give that man some other reward,” said Zeus, who sometimes suffered from a slight twinge of justice in damp weather. “I’m not so sure of that,” said Co., who was very healthy, and never got a touch of justice in any weather. “I hate a man who does everything right. It’s so infernally hypocritical. Besides, it shows a commercial mind. He only does it in order to get something by it. I hate a commercial mind. I’ll guarantee he doesn’t do it out of affection for us.” Zeus sniggered. “Well, well,” he said, “affection, you know, affection----” But here he was interrupted by the arrival of Mercury. “Just look in at the Virtue Record,” said Co., “and bring the detailed list for number one hundred and three.” Mercury was back again in a minute. “The Virtue Record office is shut, sir, nobody ever virtuous after lunch, sir--shuts at one, sir. The clerk’s gone home and taken the keys.” “Well,” said Co., “it doesn’t matter. The man is obviously a hypocrite, and he’s got no business to try and make bargains with us. I don’t mind it so much myself, Zeus, but it _is_ such an insult to _your_ dignity.” “Do you think so?” said Zeus quickly. “Then he shall repent it. I’ll teach him to call ME a pettifogging huckster. I’ll teach him to try to bribe ME. I’ll give him a lesson. Pass me those thunderbolts. I’ll scorch, and blight, and blast----” “Gently, gently,” said Co. “We may just as well try and get a little fun out of it. We’ll see who can torture best--killing barred. You shall go first.” So Zeus, who had plenty of force but very little skill, went to work in the old-fashioned way. He killed the man’s relations, burned down his house, destroyed his crops, wrecked his ships, reduced him to poverty, and afflicted him with the most distressing disease that the Punishment Department had in stock. And yet the man continued cheerful, saying that the gods were just and would yet send him prosperity. “Oh, this is sickening,” said Zeus; “I can’t do anything with him. Now, Co., you try.” “You’ve not left me much to work on,” said Co.; “you’ve taken away all the man has, except his baby son and his belief in us. I will give him something--a little accident--fever--cerebral disorder. See? Then he kills his child--you observe?--the child whom he loves more than himself. Then I restore him to his senses again. Pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes,” said Zeus, a little sulkily, “you’ve won, Co. What made you think of that?” “I don’t know,” said Co. modestly. “It was just an idea. He could not be tortured any worse than that?”