She wanted to call her mother to see him; but he said:
“Oh! no; we are having such a nice time together, and she’s busy, you know.”
So the little girl did not call; and the mother, who was making a dress of fine lace for her darling, did not dream that a goblin was in the little white room.
The goblin did not make any noise, you know, for he tiptoed all the time, as if he were afraid; and if he heard a sound he would jump. But he was a merry goblin, and he amused the little girl so much that she did not notice the change in her dear room.
The curtains grew dingy, the floor dusty, and the ceiling looked as if it might have been made of a rain cloud; but the child played on, and got out all her treasures to show to her visitor.
The pansies drooped and faded, the white dove hid its head beneath its wing and moaned; and the last pearl on the precious string grew dark when the goblin touched it with his smutty fingers.
“Oh, dear me,” said the little girl when she saw this, “I must call my mother; for these are the pearls that I must wear to the king’s court when he sends for me.”
“Never mind,” said the goblin, “we can wash it, and if it isn’t just as white as before, what difference does it make about one pearl?”
“But mother says that they all must be as fair as the morning,” insisted the little girl, ready to cry. “And what will she say when she sees this one?”
“You shut the door, then,” said the goblin, pointing to the door that had never been closed, “and I’ll wash the pearl.”