which will be twelve hours from now, where will you point," triumphantly.
"Why, up there," replied the bewildered servant, again indicating the ceiling.
"Then," cried McMasters, "you will be pointing directly opposite from the place you indicated a moment ago; for by midnight the earth will have turned approximately upside down. Do you get my point?"
"Yes, sir," replied poor Biggs, thoroughly befuddled.
"Then where will heaven be at six o'clock this evening?" fairly shouted the sick man.
"Out there," replied the servant, hopelessly, pointing toward the window.
"And where will heaven be at six o'clock in the morning?"
"Over there." And Biggs pointed a trembling finger at the fireplace. Then, "Oh, sir, let's not—the doctor"
"Hang the doctor," interrupted McMasters testily. "I've been thinking this thing over, and I've got to talk about it to someone."
"But don't you believe in a hereafter?" queried Biggs, a horrible note of fear in his pitiful voice.
For a moment the banker was silent; the massive clock ticked solemnly on. A coal toppled with a sputter and flare in the fireplace.
"Yes, Hiram," in a thoughtful voice, "I suppose I do."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," cried Biggs in very evident relief.
"Ah, if you could but tell me," continued the banker, "from whence we come, and whither we go?"
"If I knew, sir, I'd be equal with the Creator," answered Biggs with reverence.
"That's well said, Hiram, but it doesn't satisfy me. I've made my place in the world by getting to the root of things. Ah, if I could only get a peek behind the curtain, before I go—back-stage, you know—mayhap I would not be afraid to die," and his voice fell almost to a whisper.
"The Great Director does not permit the audience behind the footlights, unless he calls them," answered Biggs whimsically, the ghost of a smile lighting up his troubled features.
"Another thing, Biggs, do you believe those stories about Jonah, and Lazarus, and the fellow they let down through a hole in the roof to be healed?"
"I do, sir," with conviction.
"Do you understand how it was done?" testily.
"Of course not, sir, being only a human."
"Then tell me, Hiram, when you cannot see through it, how can you swallow all this theology?"
"My faith, sir," answered Biggs, simply, raising his eyes with reverence.
At this, a quizzical smile came over the sick man's face.
"In looking up, Hiram, don't forget, since it is twelve-thirty, that we have swung around four hundred and eighty miles from the spot you originally designated as the location of the Pearly Gates."
"Oh, sir, I beg of you," remonstrated the servant, "I cannot bear to have you jest on such a—why, master!" he broke off with a little cry, rushing to his bedside.
The quizzical smile on the banker's face had suddenly faded, and his head had fallen feebly back upon the pillow.
"Oh, why did he waste his strength so?" cried Biggs, piteously, as with trembling hands and tear-blurred eyes he searched the little table for the smelling-salts.
After a few breaths, the patient sighed and opened his eyes wearily.
"My medicine, Hiram, and then I must rest."
