“I know; I’ve thought it all over, Fitz.” “And yet you wish to return home?” “Yes, I do.” Fitz Mee laughed gleefully, uproariously, irrationally, laughed till the tears coursed down his cheeks and his fat features were all a-quiver. “Ho, ho!” he gasped at last. “Roberty-Boberty, you’re not the same boy you were, not at all; you’re not half as high and mighty. What’s come over you, hey?” “I’ve—I’ve learned something, I—I guess, Fitz.” “Oh, you have!” “Uh-huh.” “What?” “I’m not going to say,” replied Bob, grinning sheepishly; “but I think I know what you brought me to Goblinland for.” “What for?” “W-e-ll, to—to teach me what I’ve learned. Didn’t you?” “I’m not going to say,” mimicked the goblin. Then both tittered. “And you’re bound to go back home, Bob?” Fitz pursued. The boy nodded. [Illustration: “If you’re rested now, we’ll resume our sight-seeing.” (See page 168.)] “You’re a pretty looking thing to go back to Yankeeland—a little mite of a human like you!” sneeringly. “Oh, Fitz!” the lad wailed. “Can’t I be made a real boy again?” The goblin impressively shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “You see you’ve taken so many gob-tabs it’s very doubtful whether you can be changed back into a boy at all.” “Oh, Fitz, don’t say that!”—greatly distressed. “Of course, if you were put on human diet for a long time, you might come out all right,”—reflectively. “But can’t I take something that will change me quick—right away?” Again the goblin shook his head. “I doubt it,” he murmured. “Giant-tabs would make a giant of you; and you don’t want to be a giant.” “No, I don’t.” “Well, I guess, then, if you want to go back home right away, you’ll have to go just as you are.” “Oh, Fitz!” almost blubbering. “I don’t want to go back home this way; I just can’t! Can’t you give me something that will—will stretch me and swell me to boy size—just to boy size? Can’t you—can’t you?” “I don’t know,”—with a gloomy shake of the head; “I never heard of such a drug or chemical, but it’s barely possible our chemists may know of something of the kind. I’ll see about it. But here’s a difficulty.” “What? What, Fitz?” “Why, as you know, there’s no means of getting out of Goblinland except by balloon; and I doubt if my balloon will carry you at full and normal weight.” “But can’t you get a bigger one?” “I might have one made; I don’t—” “Oh, no—no, Fitz!” the boy interrupted frantically. “Don’t think of doing that; I can’t wait. Can’t you borrow a bigger one?” “There are no bigger ones, except the mayor’s state balloon. It has two feather beds lashed together for a bag, and a very large car.” “Can’t you get it—can’t you get it, Fitz?” “I don’t know, indeed. Then, here’s another difficulty, Bob, and a greater one to my mind.” “Oh, Fitz!” the boy moaned, wringing his hands. “You don’t mean it!”