A hoarse, rasping chuckle was the answer, apparently coming from the open window. Bob turned his eyes in that direction and blinked and stared, and blinked again; for there upon the sill, distinctly visible in the streaming white moonlight, stood the oddest, most grotesque figure the boy had ever beheld. Was it a dwarfed and deformed bit of humanity, or a gigantic frog masquerading in the garb of a man? Bob could not tell; so he ventured the very natural query: “What are you?” “I’m a goblin,” his nocturnal visitor made reply, in a harsh strident, parrot-like voice. “A goblin?” Bob questioned. “Yes.” “Well, what’s a goblin?” “Don’t you know?” in evident surprise. “No.” “Why, boy—boy! Your education has been sadly amiss.” “I know it,” Bob replied with unction, his school grievances returning in full force to his mind. “But what is a goblin? Anything like a gobbler?” “Stuff!” his visitor exclaimed in a tone of deep disgust. “Anything like a gobbler! Bob, you ought to be ashamed. Do I look anything like a turkey?” “No, you look like a frog,” the boy laughed. “Shut up!” the goblin croaked. “I won’t!” snapped the boy. “Look here!” cried the goblin. “Surely you know what goblins are. You’ve read of ’em—you’ve seen their pictures in books, haven’t you?” “I think I have,” Bob said reflectively, “but I don’t know just what they are.” “You know what a man is, don’t you?” the goblin queried. “Of course.” “Well, what _is_ a man?” “Huh?” the lad cried sharply. “What is a man?” “Why, a man’s a—a—a _man_,” Bob answered, lamely. “Good—very good;” the goblin chuckled, interlocking his slim fingers over his protuberant abdomen and rocking himself to and fro upon his slender legs. “I see your schooling’s done you _some_ good. Yes, a man’s a man, and a goblin’s a goblin. Understand? It’s all as clear as muddy water, when you think it over. Hey?” “You explain things just like my teacher does,” the boy muttered peevishly. “How’s that?” the goblin inquired, seating himself upon the sill and drawing his knees up to his chin. “Why, when we ask him a question, he asks us one in return; and when we answer it, he tangles us all up and leaves us that way.” “Does he?” the goblin grinned. “Yes, he does,” sullenly. “He must be a good teacher.” “He is good—good for nothing,” snappishly. The goblin hugged his slim shanks and laughed silently. He was a diminutive fellow, not more than a foot in height. His head was large; his body was pursy. A pair of big, waggling ears, a broad, flat nose, two small, pop eyes and a wide mouth made up his features. His dress consisted of a brimless, peaked cap, cutaway coat, long waistcoat, tight fitting trousers and a pair of tiny shoes—all of a vivid green color. His was indeed an uncouth and queer figure! “Say!” Bob cried, suddenly. “Huh?” the goblin ejaculated, throwing back his head and nimbly scratching his chin with the toe of his shoe. “What are you called?”