“About the same as he has always said,” replied Dove, resignedly--“That an operation would not only relieve, but cure me, and that he should like to perform it here in my own house, and get a good surgical nurse to attend upon me, with my wife’s assistance. For my wife is a capital nurse, aren’t you, Jennie?” He caressed the bent head again and went on--“He thinks me of too nervous a temperament to do well away from home.” There followed a silence. Presently Pitt spoke again in determined accents. “I tell you what it is, Dove,” he said, “_I’ll_ lend you the money!” Dove started. “_You_, Mr. Pitt?” “Yes, I!” and Pitt, smiling, drew himself up with an air of resolution--“I can’t afford it a bit--but I’ll risk it! I’ll risk it because--well!--because it’s Christmas-time!--Now don’t try to get up!” for Dove raising himself in his chair with some difficulty, caught at Pitt’s hand and grasped it hard, while tears stood in his eyes. “And don’t thank me, because I can’t bear to be thanked! It’s Christmas-time, as I’ve said--and I’ve always had ‘old-fashioned’ ideas of Christmas. My mother taught them to me--God bless her!--I think”--and his voice sank a little--“that perhaps we ought to spare a little ‘gold, frankincense and myrrh’ just at this season--and this loan to you will be my thank-offering--though it’s a poor thing at best, for you see I can’t _give_ you the money, Willie! McNason could have given it and never have missed it, but I can’t. I wish I could! However, if you’ll take the will for the deed----” And now Mrs. Dove, rising gently from her knees, came up to him and laid her hand on his arm. “God bless you, Mr. Pitt!” she said, in clear sweet tones--“He _will_ bless you!--be sure of that! What you lend to us is more than given, because you have such a friendly sympathy with us, and sympathy is greater than gold! I will not even try to thank you----” “No, don’t!” interrupted Pitt, hastily, pressing her hand hard--“It’s--it’s all right! Dove and I will arrange our business matters, and I’ll see the doctor to-morrow, even though it _is_ Christmas Day!” “I’ll pay it all back!” said Dove, excitedly--“I can work well still--I’ve got all my wits about me--and I have a fine offer from a firm to undertake some affairs for them immediately if I can only pull up my strength. And I think I shall manage--now!” Pitt here drew a chair to the fire opposite the sick man and sat down. “It’s a curious thing,”--he said--“how the possession of enormous wealth hardens some people, and makes them not only difficult to deal with, but often positively cruel to themselves and to others! Now if one is to judge by outward looks, Mr. McNason, though a multi-millionaire, is just about one of the most miserable men alive!” The Goblin chuckled, and gave Josiah a nudge with its sharp elbow. “Hear that, McNason!” it said--“It’ll do you good to learn what other folks think of you!”