However, they were soon to know, for a few seconds later, the scratching and scrambling having continued until it sounded close underneath where the children were crouching, the goblin popped its head up through a hole just beside Jack’s right foot. The Goblin studied the sole of Jacks shoe attentively for a moment, then his gaze travelled to Jack, whom he eyed with mild astonishment. Then he caught sight of Molly, and transferred his attention to her. The children remained silent, not knowing what to say. They could tell nothing of the Goblin’s attitude toward them from his surprised face. Then he spoke. His voice sounded very small and far away, but the children were glad to find that they could understand what he said. “Are you real?” asked the Goblin. “Of course we are,” said Jack. “What are you?” was the next question. Molly started to explain, but she soon noticed that the Goblin was shaking his head, so she stopped. “No ... there isn’t really a place called the Impossible World, which you can reach through a tree in a forest,” he said, as if confiding to them a sad truth. “It’s only a story—a make-believe place—like Dreamland.” Molly was taken aback. “Oh, but there _is_ such a place,” she affirmed. “We know there is—because we have come from there.” “I like to hear you say that—but I don’t believe you,” said the Goblin, candidly. “I wish I could. And I wish you _were_ real, indeed I do.” “We _are_ real,” said Jack, warmly. “We’re as real as anything. Why, it’s you that is only—that people say are not—I mean——” “What do you think we are, then, if you don’t believe we are real people?” asked Molly, quickly, giving Jack a warning glance. “Well, you may be only an optical illusion—I may think I see you, but you may not really be there,” suggested the Goblin blandly, wagging his quaint little head from side to side. His head and two little hands clutching the edge of the hole were still the only parts visible of him. The children gazed down at him. An optical illusion! This was indeed a horrible thought, and made Molly pinch herself to make sure she was really there. Then she laughed. “We are as real as you are,” she said. Then she had an inspiration. “As real as Old Nancy,” she added, watching the Goblin closely. His expression changed immediately, and a look of glad surprise crossed his face. “Why, do you know her?” he asked quickly. “Rather,” said Jack. “She’s a friend of ours.” “Then I am a friend of yours,” said the Goblin, climbing out of the hole and standing beside the children. “Whether you are real—or—or—whatever you are.”