And now Mrs. Dove, rising gently from her knees, came up to him and laid her hand on his arm.
“God bless you, Mr. Pitt!” she said, in clear sweet tones—“He will bless you!—be sure of that! What you lend to us is more than given, because you have such a friendly sympathy with us, and sympathy is greater than gold! I will not even try to thank you——”
“No, don’t!” interrupted Pitt, hastily, pressing her hand hard—“It’s—it’s all right! Dove and I will arrange our business matters, and I’ll see the doctor to-morrow, even though it is Christmas Day!”
“I’ll pay it all back!” said Dove, excitedly—“I can work well still—I’ve got all my wits about me—and I have a fine offer from a firm to undertake some affairs for them immediately if I can only pull up my strength. And I think I shall manage—now!”
Pitt here drew a chair to the fire opposite the sick man and sat down.
“It’s a curious thing,”—he said—“how the possession of enormous wealth hardens some people, and makes them not only difficult to deal with, but often positively cruel to themselves and to others! Now if one is to judge by outward looks, Mr. McNason, though a multi-millionaire, is just about one of the most miserable men alive!”
The Goblin chuckled, and gave Josiah a nudge with its sharp elbow.
“Hear that, McNason!” it said—“It’ll do you good to learn what other folks think of you!”
“So old, so feeble and so lonely!” went on Mr. Pitt, almost pathetically—“When he refused to do anything for your assistance, Dove, I was inclined to be very plain-spoken and give him a bit of my mind, even at the risk of offending him,—but seeing what a forlorn old wreck he seemed, with his shrivelled body and wrinkled face, I thought it was no use being angry with him,—especially at Christmas-time! He’s not long for this world!”
Again the Goblin nudged Josiah’s arm and its fiery eyes glowed with railway-signal brilliancy.