The goblin continued to grin and bat his pop eyes—saucily, perversely. Daylight was just breaking.
“When—when did you get back?” Bob inquired, embarrassed by his comrade’s manner.
“Just got back, my friend,” Fitz croaked hoarsely; “and a time I’ve had getting you awake. I called and called from the ground, but you slept on. So I had to climb the tree; and then yell at you—and yell again and again, and shake you, and pinch you. You must have been greatly worried over my disappearance and danger! Oh, yes! Sure! You couldn’t sleep at all, you were so worried!”
“Fitz, I was worried,” the boy replied sheepishly.
“Of course!” the goblin sneered. “That’s what I said—you were so worried you couldn’t sleep!”
“You may say what you please,” Bob insisted, “but I was worried—worried like everything. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“And no doubt you searched for me, seeking to rescue me from my perilous position!” Fitz continued sarcastically. “Why, to be sure you did! Oh, my!—yes, indeed!”
“No, I didn’t hunt for you,” Bob returned thickly, a hint of tears in his voice.
“You didn’t?” snappishly.