it only on occasions when he shared his deepest confidences
with his old houseman.

"Well, the line goes, 'Soft may the worms about him creep,' sir."

A slight shudder seemed to run through McMasters' body. Then after a
tomb-like silence, "Good reason for building the mausoleum."

"Yes, sir, I think so, sir."

"Well," with an apparent effort, "when they exhumed my grandfather's
remains to place them in the new vault, the casket was opened, and----"

"Oh, sir," cried Biggs, throwing out a trembling, expostulating hand,
but the banker went on, relentlessly.

"----the body was turned over, on its side, with the left knee drawn up
part-way."

"That's the way he always slept--in life." Biggs' voice was a hollow
whisper.

"And that's the reason my father, after building himself a mausoleum,
insisted that his body be cremated," said McMasters. "He took no
chances."

Biggs' horrified eyes traveled dully to the massive urn over the great
fireplace and rested there, fascinated.

"Hiram, where is heaven?"

Biggs' eyes flitted back to rest in surprize upon the questioner.

"Why, up there, sir," pointing toward the ceiling.

"Do you believe that the earth rotates on its axis?"

"That's what I was taught in school, sir."

"If that hypothesis is true, we are rolling through space at the rate of
about sixteen miles a minute," figured the banker. "Now you say heaven
is up there."

"Yes, sir."

"Biggs, what time is it?"

The servant glanced at the great clock in the corner.

"Ah, it's twelve o'clock, sir, and time for your medicine," in a voice
full of relief.

"Never mind the drugs," commanded McMasters, "until we finish our
problem in higher mathematics. Now, if I ask you where heaven is at
midnight, 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