“Oh, hoo-roo!” it blubbered--“When I was a Churchwarden people were all so respectful to me! I had a country seat--such as you have, McNason!--and a whole parish bowed down to me! Think of that! Farmers doffed their caps, and farmers’ wives curtsied to me! The clergyman spoke of me as his ‘high-minded and generous neighbour!’ Oh, hoo-roo! I was so proud of myself!--as proud as a Scotch landlord!--and nothing’s prouder than that! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo! Those happy humbug days! I gave myself such airs!--such touch-me-not airs, McNason! I might have been an up-to-date Highland chief in a kilt, my airs were so superior! You know what an up-to-date Highland chief is, McNason?--a man who lets his ‘dear native home,’ and his ‘beloved’ moors and forests for all he can get, and lives a gay life in London on the profits! A proud and pompous creature, McNason!--and I was just such a one! I was really! Talk of patriotism and love of country! I had it all!--I was as parochial as a town clerk! I had such a grand manner!--so stand-offish! And now--and now----” Here it beat a dreary tattoo on its expressive Paunch--“Oh, hoo-roo!--I shall never be a Churchwarden any more!” A clammy perspiration bedewed Josiah’s brow. That hollow drumming sound was dreadful!--if the horrible Creature would only stop it!---- “Don’t do that!”--he muttered, feebly, “I--I can’t bear it!” “Can’t bear what?” demanded the Goblin, quite briskly. “That sound you make on--on----” “On my Tum-Tum? Oh, Beelzebub! You oughtn’t to mind that! Tum-Tums are what all you men live for nowadays! One of your dramatists has made a play out of a Tum-Tum. Poor old Shakespeare! He was never as clever as that! I always lived for my Tum-Tum--and of course it’s now the largest part of me. I have to tell it everything,--and when I beat it, it knows what I mean!” Josiah huddled himself back into the depths of his easy chair and closed his eyes,--if he could only swoon away, he thought!--if he could but lose his sight and hearing in a merciful unconsciousness!--