A squad of rotund and husky goblins, in blue police uniforms and armed with maces, came forcing in their way through the packed crowd. Immediately behind them was the mayor, a pursy, wrinkled old fellow wearing a long robe of purple velvet. The officers cleared a space for him, and he advanced and said pompously: [Illustration] “Welcome, Fitz Mee, known the world over as the Little Green Goblin of Goblinville. I proclaim you the bravest, if not the speediest, messenger and minister Goblinland has ever known. Again, welcome home; and welcome to your friend and comrade, Master Robert Taylor of Yankeeland. I trust that he will find his stay among us pleasant, and that he will in no way cause us to regret that we have made the experiment of admitting a human being—and a boy at that!—to the sacred precincts of Goblinville. The freedom of the country and the keys of the city shall be his. Once more, a sincere and cordial welcome.” Then to the officers: “Disperse the populace, and two of you escort the Honorable Fitz Mee and his companion to their dwelling-place, that they may seek the rest they greatly need after so arduous a journey.” The officers promptly and energetically carried out the orders of their chief. When Fitz and Bob were alone in the former’s house, the latter remarked: “Fitz, I believe I’ll like to live in Goblinville.” “I—I hope you will, Bob,” was the rather disappointing reply. “Hope I will? Don’t you think I will, Fitz?” “I don’t know; boys are curious animals.” “Well, I think I will. You know you said I could do as I pleased here.” “Yes.” “Say, Fitz?” “Well.” “How does it come that you goblins speak my language?” “We speak any language—all languages.” “You do?” “Yes.” “Why, how do you learn so many?” “We don’t have to learn ’em; we just know ’em naturally—as we know everything else we know at all.” “My, that’s great! You don’t have to go to school, not study, nor anything, do you?” “No.” “I wish I was a goblin.” “But you’re not,” laughed Fitz Mee; “and you never will be.” “But I’ll be a man some day, and that will be better.” “Maybe you will.” “Maybe?” “You’ll never be a man if you stay in Goblinland.” “I won’t?” “No.” “Won’t I ever grow any?” “Not as long as you stay in Goblinland—and eat our kind of food.” “Well, I’ll get older, and then I’ll be a man, or a goblin, or something—won’t I?” “You’ll still be a boy.” “Pshaw!” Bob pouted. “I don’t like that. You told me I could be what I pleased in Goblinland.” “No, I didn’t,” Fitz Mee returned quietly but firmly. “I told you that in our country boys—meaning goblin boys, of course—were compelled to do what pleased them and were not permitted to do what pleased others. That law or custom is still in effect; and you, as a human boy, will be subject to it.” “And I can do anything that pleases me?” “You can’t do anything else.”