At this threat the miserable mortal prostrated himself, a tardy confession being wrung from him.
"Oh! pardon. Thou knowest my poverty and my distress. I want riches, and—and"—
"Good!" said the demon, with a horrible smile. "'Tis what ye are ever hankering after. Every child of Adam doth cry with insatiate thirst, 'Give—give!' But hark thee! 'tis thine own fault if thou art not rich, and that speedily. I will grant thee three wishes: use them as thou wilt."
Now the rogue was glad when he heard this gracious speech, and in the fulness of his joy exclaimed—
"Bodikins! but I know what my first wish will be; and I'se not want other two."
"How knowest thou that?" said the demon, with a look of contumely and scorn so wild and withering that Michael started back in great terror.
"Before this favour is granted though," continued the fiend, "there is a small matter by way of preliminary to be settled."
"What is that?" inquired the trembling novice with increasing disquietude and alarm.
"A contract must be signed, and delivered too."
"A contract! Dear me; and for what?"