Joe (automatically). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not the pleasure.
Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
The Demon (quietly). My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation—fiend.
Joe, (cowering limply on his chair). O Mr. Fiend, I know it's very wrong of me!
Demon (politely). Don't mention it—but please to come "along of" me?
Joe (imploringly). Do let me off this once,—ha! you're relenting,
You smile——
Demon (grimly). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
[Catches Joe's ankle, and assists him to descend.
Joe. You'll drive me mad!
Demon (carelessly). I may—before I've done with you!
Joe. What do you want?