“Now, I’ll telephone to Goblinland that we’re coming, that we’ll arrive there to-morrow.” He drew forth his wireless telephone, rang the tiny bell, and waited. Bob stood at his comrade’s side, alertly observant. Presently he saw the goblin give a start and heard him saying:
“Hello! Hello! Is this Goblinland? It is, you say? All right. This is Fitz Mee. Yes, Fitz Mee. Yes, the Little Green Goblin. Uh-huh. Well, give me the mayor’s office. Yes—yes! the mayor’s office.”
There was a momentary pause; and then:
“Hello! Is this the mayor’s office in Goblinland? What? Huh? Is this the mayor’s office in Goblinland, I say? You can’t hear me? Well, I can’t hear you. I want to know if this is the mayor’s office in Goblinland. You say it is? Huh? Oh! All right. Well, is the mayor there? How’s that? Well, I want to speak to him, please.”
Another momentary pause; and then:
“Hello! Hel-lo, Hel-lo! Is this his honor, the mayor of Goblinland? It is? How’s that? It isn’t? How’s that? What? Huh?” Bob began to snicker. “Oh! All right. Well, mayor, this is Fitz Mee. Fitz Mee, I say. No—no! Fitz Mee. No! Not Swiss cheese!”—Bob laughed outright; and the goblin scowled darkly. “F-i-t-z M-e-e, Fitz Mee. Oh! You understand now, do you? Well, I’ve got the boy. Yes. Why, I’ve been delayed by storms and misadventures. Yes. Yes, bad storms. We’ll get in to-morrow morning, I think. Hey? I—I know; but I hope your honor will pardon—what? Well, mayor, you don’t know what an awful time I’ve had with this boy.” Bob rolled upon the ground and roared. “Well, I’m very sorry. You’ll what—your honor? Please don’t say that! Oh! don’t say that!” The goblin’s face had gone white, Bob observed; and the boy wondered what was the matter. “Yes, to—morrow morning. Good-bye.”
Fitz Mee rang off, returned the instrument to his pocket, and dropped upon the ground, pale and panting.
“What is it, what’s the matter, Fitz?” Bob inquired kindly.
The goblin drew his knees up to his chin and rolled his pop eyes and waggled his big head; but made no answer.