"Exactly," said Madison. "It's their move every minute--make them feel
that if they don't get what they're after it's their own fault--that
it's their own lack of faith that's to blame. And the longer they have
to wait to see the Patriarch, the more they become impressed that faith
is necessary, and--oh, well, psychology is the greatest jollier of them
all."

"Eh?" inquired the Flopper. "I ain't on dere, Doc."

"It's very simple," smiled Madison, "They'll want to convince themselves
that they _have_ got faith, that it's all bottled up and ready to have
the cork drawn when called for, and they'll prove it to themselves by
laying an offering upon the shrine as evidence of faith _before_ the
goods are delivered."

"I gotcher!" said the Flopper enthusiastically. "Why say, Doc, dat's de
way I'd do meself--swipe me, if I wouldn't!"

"That's the way nearly everybody would do," said Madison, laughing.
"There's at least a few similar kinks common to our noble race--we're
busy most of the time trying to fool ourselves one way or another. Well,
that's about all. I can't lay out a programme for every minute of the
day--you and Helena have got to use your heads and work along that
general idea. You play up your gratitude strong. And, oh yes--keep the
altar box well baited. Let Helena put some of her near-diamond rings and
joujabs in until we collect some genuine ones--and then keep the genuine
ones going--change every day for variety, you know. And take the silver
money out every time you see any in--not that we scorn it in the great
aggregate, far from it--it's just psychology again, Flopper. I went to
church once and sat beside a duck with a white waistcoat and chop