ted and the
cleverest of his torture machines rusting from lack of use.

At last he could stand it no longer, and he went back to his private
chambers. Telling his valet that he was not to be disturbed, he locked
the door and took a sleeping potion gauged for a century.

* * * * *

Boom! Boom! Boom!

I. B. Devil awoke and tried to stretch himself, but he was so stiff he
could hardly move. Cold, icy cold penetrated his very bones. He managed
at last to sit up on the edge of his couch, and then the chamber door
fell in before the battering ram of the last of his faithful followers.
Six shivering demons piled into the chamber--the six grateful firemen to
whom he had given the extra souls.

"The last of the fires are out, Your Majesty, and all the others have
deserted."

"But why," demanded the Devil, "did you not keep my private furnace
fired? We shall all freeze to death."

"But, Your Majesty, there is no one to work the mines. Do you not
remember that you arranged for them to be worked by the souls of scabs
who were to be killed by strikers?"

"Another blunder," sighed the Devil. "Well, there is a grate and in that
case yonder is my private stock of smoking brimstone. Light it, for I
must get thawed out so I can think."

The two-souled firemen hastened to obey and the seven of them were soon
sitting around the spluttering blue flames and inhaling the delicious
vapors.

The Devil got out a set of heavy, asbestos furs, smiling as he recalled
for whom he had ordered them. He had intended to keep her in his private
chamber to light his pipe and brew his tea--and he had chuckled many a
time at the thought of her in summer furs.

He laid the furs on a chair and went to his desk and wrote busily for a
few minutes.

"Now, boys," he said, "here are your passes for mortality, and remember
you have two souls."

The firemen vanished and the Devil was alone in Hell.

He drew on the furs and wrapped his own travelling cape about them. Then
he went into the outer chamber. Across the room the windows, into which
usually shone the cheery redness of roaring flames, were now frosted
with weird designs, and the fireproof platinum fittings on the great
door were hoary white.

Slowly the Devil trudged across the chill chamber and, with a fur-clad
hand, grasped the frosted handle, swung open the great door, and stepped
out on the balcony.

For a moment he was blinded by the dazzling, sparkli