Bob was much amused at their cries and antics and just a little frightened at their exuberant friendliness. Fitz Mee shook hands with all comers, and chuckled and giggled good-naturedly.
“Out of the way!” blustered a hoarse voice. “Out of the way for his honor, the mayor!”
A squad of rotund and husky goblins, in blue police uniforms and armed with maces, came forcing in their way through the packed crowd. Immediately behind them was the mayor, a pursy, wrinkled old fellow wearing a long robe of purple velvet. The officers cleared a space for him, and he advanced and said pompously:
“Welcome, Fitz Mee, known the world over as the Little Green Goblin of Goblinville. I proclaim you the bravest, if not the speediest, messenger and minister Goblinland has ever known. Again, welcome home; and welcome to your friend and comrade, Master Robert Taylor of Yankeeland. I trust that he will find his stay among us pleasant, and that he will in no way cause us to regret that we have made the experiment of admitting a human being—and a boy at that!—to the sacred precincts of Goblinville. The freedom of the country and the keys of the city shall be his. Once more, a sincere and cordial welcome.”
Then to the officers: “Disperse the populace, and two of you escort the Honorable Fitz Mee and his companion to their dwelling-place, that they may seek the rest they greatly need after so arduous a journey.”
The officers promptly and energetically carried out the orders of their chief.
When Fitz and Bob were alone in the former’s house, the latter remarked:
“Fitz, I believe I’ll like to live in Goblinville.”
“I—I hope you will, Bob,” was the rather disappointing reply.