“Why?” Fitz Mee jerked out.
“It’s so awful hot and smelly,” the boy explained; “and I’m—I’m a little afraid of all that hot metal.”
“No matter; you must go through here.”
“I must?” Bob cried indignantly.
“Certainly. You said you’d be pleased to go through our factories; so now you must go through—through every apartment. Boys in Goblinville, you know, must do what pleases ’em.”
“But it doesn’t please me to go through this fiery furnace, Fitz.”
“Well, boys’re not allowed to change their minds every few minutes in Goblinville. Come on.”
“I won’t!” Bob said obstinately.
“You’ll get into trouble, Bob.”
“I don’t care.”