“Ah! And without assistance?” queried the Goblin--“Without trampling any poor person down? Without ‘sweating’ labour? Without cheating anybody less ‘sharp’ than yourself?” McNason was silent. “You _haven’t_ made your own way in the world!”--went on the Goblin relentlessly--“The men who have worked for you have made it! And you’ve screwed their lives down, McNason!--screwed them down hard and fast to pittance wages in order to wrest every penny you could for yourself out of their labour! And you’ve made a pile of money! Too big a pile by far, McNason! No man in the world makes such a pile without having wronged his fellow-men in some way or other! He has tried to tip the balance of justice falsely--but there’s one thing about that balance, McNason--it always rights itself! When a man is too rich--when a man has gotten his money through close-fistedness, harshness and avarice, then WE come in! We of Hell’s United Empire Club! We give a bloated millionaire fits, I can tell you! When he has got enough gold to gorge himself with expensive food and wine every day in the week if he likes, we take away his digestion! That’s capital fun! We take away his digestion, and the doctors come and limit him to milk and soda! Oh, hoo-roo!” And the Goblin doubled itself up in a writhing tangle of delight,--“And when he marries for Money _only_ and gets an heir to Money _only_, we take away the heir! And then by and bye he finds he can neither eat nor sleep, and that his Money isn’t such a valuable commodity as he thought it was, not even though it _can_ buy a Peerage! And when he is harsh and unkind and uncharitable, we sk--k--in his soul!” “I’m _not_ uncharitable!” cried Josiah, goaded almost to frenzy by the darting menace of the terrible eyes that glared fixedly into his own--“Not even YOU can say that! I’ve given hundreds and hundreds of pounds away in charity----” “On subscription lists--yes! I know you have!” and “Professor” Goblin nodded sagaciously--“I’ve seen your name writ large along with the names of a lot of other bounders who want the world to see how much they’ve given to a hospital! But that’s not charity!” “Not charity!” echoed Josiah. “Then what is charity?” “Shall I tell you?” said the Goblin. “You’ve heard, but you’ve forgotten!” And it repeated in a low, almost gentle voice--“‘Charity suffereth long and is kind, charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.’ That’s as unlike _your_ charity, McNason, as Heaven is unlike Hell!” “Any devil can quote Scripture!” said McNason, contemptuously--“I hear all that in Church!” “You hear, but you don’t listen,”--said the Goblin--“You go to Church every Sunday?” “I do! My clergyman relies very much on my assistance.”