“‘Coals of fire,’ eh?” said the Goblin--“A trifle scorching, even on a thick skull like yours, McNason! So you’d forgotten Willie Dove, had you? Curious! He was always a very excellent fellow, though, and one of the best men in your employ. The honour of the firm was the first thing with him at all times, and you owe to his hard work and straight principles more than you have the honesty to acknowledge! But it’s no use trying to tip the balance of things, McNason! That balance always rights itself! Good is good, and evil is evil,--you can’t make one out to be the other, however much you try! If you’re spiteful, if you’re mean, if you’re unthankful for the blessings bestowed on you--and more than all, if you refuse to help those who have helped _you_, you are punished! You are, really! And a good sound flogging you get, I can tell you! Oh Beelzebub!--don’t _I_ know this! When I was a Churchwarden----” “_Will_ you do as I ask you?” implored Josiah, desperately, “Get me out of this! I want to go home!” “Poor old baby! Wants to go home, does it!” jeered the Goblin--“Oh, but it mustn’t be naughty! It must go where its nursey takes it! Just another little ridey-pidey in its coachy-poachy!” And rising aloft on its skeleton toes, the Goblin grew larger and more threatening of aspect, while its bat-wings, slowly unfurling, seemed spreading out so darkly and interminably that Josiah fell on his knees in terror--“Just another taste of the ‘supernatural,’ McNason! Just another little experience of Hell’s United Empire Club!” “No, no!” gasped the trembling millionaire--“Let me get home! Give me a chance to--to----” His voice gurgled away into a faint tremolo. “Chance! You’ve had a thousand chances!” retorted the Goblin, scornfully, “And you’ve thrown them all away! Now you’re asking for _one_ chance! Oh, hoo-roo! Come and see how Christians love one another! With a love that perhaps you may appreciate, because it is so like hate! Come and hear an ‘ordained’ clerical Judas deny his Master! YOU and such men as YOU--gorged with gold, and diseased with Self,--are chiefly to blame for the wicked blasphemies which to-day brand the Christian world with infamy! Come--come! Blasphemy will suit you! You have aided it and abetted it many a time, even though you _are_ a ‘churchwarden.’ Oh, hoo-roo, hoo-roo! Come in the spirit of One Timothy Two! Come!--come! COME!” And like a great phantom of black Night descending, the Goblin swooped upon Josiah once more;--the little quiet room,--where Willie Dove, his wife and friend were all cheerily drinking “A Merry Christmas,”--was blotted from his sight, and again limitless space enshrouded and enveloped him in darkness. * * * * *