“You must be making a mistake,” said the merchant. “You are in the wrong house. I never had any cases altered and I don’t need any altered now. Go away, please, I do not know you.”
“Yet I made you,” said the Entity.
“Pooh! pooh! nonsense,” said the merchant, “you must be a stranger hereabouts; everyone knows I am a self-made man.”
“A self-made fool,” said the Entity, “your memory is short and your vanity great. Do you remember the strike that took place when you were in the undershirt and trousers period of your life?”
“Yes,” slowly replied the merchant, a little flurried to hear a stranger go back so far into his history.
“Well I made that strike case, and only for that case you would have starved to death. You became a scab workman by taking advantage of me.”
“Really,” said the merchant.
“Now,” continued the Entity, “you remember your quick promotion; how you rose to be foreman?”
“Yes,” quickly interrupted the merchant, “but you know that I was eminently fit for the position.”
“Of course you were fit,” answered the Entity, “but ’twas I who made you fit and I made the case. What good would your fitness have been without the case?”