"Oh no," said Hoodie, "it didn't hurt her--not a bit--she just thought a fly had tickled her eyes, and she winkled them, and the witch said to her, 'You may come out of bed now, my dear. The ogre won't be coming to-night.' And so the little girl got out of bed, and when she came up to the witch, the witch looked at her and laughed, and the little girl couldn't think what she was laughing at, and she never knowed about the goblins being in her eyes till one day when her little brother was playing with her, he peeped in her face and said, 'I see two goblins in your eyes.'" "That was me," exclaimed Duke. "It was one day I looked in Hoodie's eyes and I saw two goblings in 'zem, I did. Hoodie's made the story about me." "I hasn't," said Hoodie, indignantly. "I've got stories enough without making them about silly little boys like you. Of course you saw the goblins in mine eyes--there's goblins in every little girl's eyes ever since the witch put them into her little girl's. It's comed to be the fashion, and now you know how it was, and that's the end of the story." "Thank you for telling it, Hoodie," said Magdalen. "We're all very much obliged to you, and another day I hope you'll tell us some more. Now Duke and Hec, are your stories ready?" Hec looked exceedingly solemn. "I only know one," he said; "Duke knows lots." "Well, which of you is going to begin?" "Hec," said Duke. "Duke," said Hec. "Mine isn't ready," said Duke. "Hec, you begin. If you only know one it must be always ready." "Mine's only about a little dog," began Hec, modestly. "It was a little dog that had only three legs." "Only three legs!" exclaimed Magdalen. "My dear Hec, are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"