As the days passed Bob became more and more disgruntled, more and more dissatisfied with things in Goblinville. The bare thought of food-tablets and drink-pellets disgusted and nauseated him; and he could hardly swallow them at all. The young goblins would not, could not, play the games he liked to play. They were too small for one reason; and, then, as it did not please them to do so, they were not permitted to do so. And the boy was without youthful companionship. The only associates he had were his faithful companion Fitz Mee and the officers of the town, who were always at his elbow to see that he did what pleased him. This constant espionage became simply unbearable; and the lad grew peevish, gloomy; desperate. At last he broke down and tearfully confessed to his comrade: “Fitz, I want to go back home; I do—I do! I can’t stand it here any longer. It isn’t at all what I thought it would be like; and I’m homesick!” Fitz Mee did not laugh; he did not smile, even. On the contrary he looked very grave—and a little sad. “So you’re homesick, Bob—eh?” he said. “Yes, I am, Fitz.” “And you desire to go home?” “Uh-huh.” “You don’t like things here in Goblinville?” “No, I don’t.” “What is it you object to?” “Oh, everything!” “But especially?” “Well, the—the pills, I guess.” “Oh!” joyfully. “Is that all, Bob? We can fix that all right. I’ll get a special permit from the mayor—he’s a political friend of mine,—to let me prepare you food like you’ve been accustomed to. Then you’ll be as happy as a clam, won’t you?” “I—I don’t hardly know, Fitz; no, I don’t think I will.” “What!” “Uk-uh.” “Well, what else is wrong, then?” The goblin’s pop eyes were dancing with mischief. “I don’t like to be compelled to do what pleases me,” Bob confessed shamefacedly. “Ho, ho!” laughed Fitz Mee. “Oh, you can laugh!” the boy cried, in weak irritation. “But I don’t!” “You said it would just suit you, Bob—before you came here,” Fitz chuckled hoarsely, holding his sides and rocking to and fro. “I know I did; but I’d never tried it.” “And you don’t like it?” “No, indeed,” Bob answered very earnestly. “And you’re homesick, and want to go home?” The boy nodded, his eyes downcast. “All the goblins’ll laugh at you, if you go to leave Goblinville.” “Well, let ’em; I don’t care.” “And your people and your schoolmates will laugh at you, when you return home.” Bob was silent, deeply pondering. “Don’t you care?” Fitz Mee asked, cackling explosively. “Yes, I do! But I’ve got to go, anyhow; I’ll die here.” “Oh, no, you won’t, Bob,” said the goblin, teasingly. “I will, too,” said Bob, desperately in earnest; “I know.” “You’ll have to go to school, if you return home.” “I don’t mind that; I’ll have other boys to play with, anyhow.” “Yes, but you’ll have to obey the teacher.” “I know.” “And you’ll have to do what pleases your parents.” “I know that, too.” “And you won’t be permitted to do what pleases yourself.”