As he spoke the door at the foot of the steps opened, and a small creature, for all the world like the goblin in Jimmieboy's fairy book, poked his head out. The goblin looked all about him, and then turning his eyes upward until they met those of the boy, he cried out:
"Hullo! Are you the toy peddler?"
"No," replied Jimmieboy.
"Then you are the milk broker, or the potato merchant, and we don't want any milk or any potatoes."
The goblin slammed the door when he had said this, and with such a bang that all the little people in the pictures ran to the edge of the frame and peered out to see what was the matter. One poor little fellow, who had been tending sheep in a picture half-way up the stairs, leaned out so far that he lost his balance and tumbled out head over heels. The sheep scampered over the hill and disappeared in the background of the painting.
"Poor little shepherd boy!" said Jimmieboy. "I hope you are not hurt!"
The shepherd boy looked up gratefully at the speaker, and said he wasn't, except in his feelings.
"Is there any way for me to get in there?" asked Jimmieboy.
"No, sir," said the shepherd boy. "That is, not all of you. Part of you can come in."