“Oh, you think you’re smart!” the lad pouted, tears in his eyes, his lips quivering. “Old Fits! Old Spasms! Old Convulsions! Yeah! Yeah!” “Here—here!” cried the goblin, springing to his feet and frowning darkly. “You mustn’t call me such names, boy.” “I will!” sturdily. “If you do, I’ll go away and leave you, just as you are.” “I don’t care.” “You don’t?” “No, I don’t.” “What’re you mad about?” “You played a mean trick on me, and then laughed at me—that’s what.” “I didn’t play any trick on you.” “You did, too. You coaxed me to take that pill.” “Tablet, you mean.” “Well, tablet. What’s the difference?” “I persuaded you to take it.” “It’s all the same.” “And I forgot you didn’t have your clothes on. Now you’ll have to put ’em on and take another tablet to shrink them.” “I won’t take it.” “Why won’t you?” “’Cause I won’t—that’s why. Think I want to _live_ on pills? I don’t like ’em.” “Are you afraid to take it?” “No, I—I’m not. But it wouldn’t shrink my clothes, if I did take it.” “Yes, it will. Look at your night-gown.” Bob picked up his discarded night-robe and closely examined it. It was not larger than a doll’s dress. The lad grinned sheepishly, and began to hustle into his garments. They were a world too large for him, and hung upon his shrunken limbs in a baggy and outlandish fashion. His shoes were ten sizes too big; his cap rested upon his shoulders. “Huh!” he muttered in disgust; “I look like a scarecrow.” “Here!” the goblin said, soberly. “Take another tablet.” Bob shook his head. “What’s the matter, now?” asked Fitz. “I’m afraid to take it,” the boy replied. “What’re you afraid of?” “I’m afraid it will shrink me all away to nothing.” “No, it won’t.” “You’re sure?” “Yes. These are goblin tablets; gob-tabs we Call ’em for short. They just shrink a person to goblin size; you can’t shrink any more. Take it now; it’ll just shrink your clothes.” “W-e-ll, I—I don’t know; I can’t remain in this fix, though.” Then in sudden desperation:—“Give it to me; I’ll take it!” The lad swallowed the tablet. Barely had he done so, when his clothes shrank to fit him—skin tight. “Say!” he giggled gleefully, closely examining himself. “Those tablets are great.” “Sure!” winked the goblin. “Now are you ready to go?” “Why—why,” Bob faltered, “I’d like to bid my folks good-bye—especially mamma.” “You’re in nice shape to bid your folks good-bye, now, aren’t you?” sneered the goblin. “That’s so,” the boy muttered, sadly shaking his head. “But I do hate to leave ’em without saying anything about it—especially mamma.” “Huh!” the goblin grunted, contemptuously. “You tell your mother of your intention and she won’t let you go.” “Yes, that’s so.” “Well, let’s be off; we’re losing too much time.” “I—I can come back sometime, can’t I?” “Pshaw;” snapped the goblin. “I guess you’re satisfied with things here and don’t want to go at all.” “Yes, I do want to go.”