“On subscription lists—yes! I know you have!” and “Professor” Goblin nodded sagaciously—“I’ve seen your name writ large along with the names of a lot of other bounders who want the world to see how much they’ve given to a hospital! But that’s not charity!”
“Not charity!” echoed Josiah. “Then what is charity?”
“Shall I tell you?” said the Goblin. “You’ve heard, but you’ve forgotten!” And it repeated in a low, almost gentle voice—“‘Charity suffereth long and is kind, charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.’ That’s as unlike your charity, McNason, as Heaven is unlike Hell!”
“Any devil can quote Scripture!” said McNason, contemptuously—“I hear all that in Church!”
“You hear, but you don’t listen,”—said the Goblin—“You go to Church every Sunday?”
“I do! My clergyman relies very much on my assistance.”
“Does he now?” and the Goblin put its head questioningly on one side—“Financial assistance, of course?”
McNason gave a short laugh.
“That’s the only kind of assistance he ever asks for!”
“Good man!” said the Goblin, thoughtfully—“And you help him?”