“And don’t you have anything else in Goblinland?”
“No, of course not.”
“Oh, dear!” wailed the boy. “I wish I was back home! Nothing to eat but pills! Golly!”
“There, there, Bob!” the goblin said soothingly, kindly even. “You don’t wish you were back home; you’re just hungry and nervous. Take these tablets and you’ll be all right in a jiffy.”
Bob silently held out his hand, his face a picture of lugubrious woe, and silently took the tablets and swallowed them.
Fitz Mee idly fingered the tiny bottles in the case for a minute or two, mumbling over the names upon the labels. Then he looked up and asked:
“Feel better, Bob?”
“Yes,” the lad admitted rather reluctantly, “I feel stronger and better, but I’m still awful empty.”
“But you’re not hungry?”
“No; just hollow-like.”