# Davy and the Goblin/Chapter XIV

When Davy sat up and looked around him he found himself in a beautiful meadow, with the sun shining brightly on the grass and the wild flowers. The air was filled with dainty-colored insects, darting about in the warm sunshine, and chirping cheerily as they flew, and at a little distance the Goblin was sitting on the grass, attentively examining a great, struggling creature that he was holding down by its wings.
“I suppose,” said the Goblin, as if Davy’s sudden appearance was the most ordinary thing in the world,—“I suppose that this is about the funniest bug that flies.”
“What is it?” said Davy, cautiously edging away.
“It’s a Cricket-Bat,” said the Goblin, rapping familiarly with his knuckles on its hard shell. “His body is like a boot-jack, and his wings are like a pair of umbrellas.”
“But, you know, a Cricket-Bat is something to play with!” said Davy, surprised at the Goblin’s ignorance.
“Well, you may play with it if you like. I don’t want to,” said the Goblin, carelessly tossing the great creature over to Davy, and walking away.
The Cricket-Bat made a swoop at Davy, knocking him over like a feather, and then, with a loud snort, flew away across the meadow. It dashed here and there at flying things of every kind, and, turning on its side, knocked them, one after another, quite out of sight, until, to Davy’s delight, the Cockalorum came into view, flying across the meadow in his usual blundering fashion. At sight of him the Cricket-Bat gave another triumphant snort, and with a wild plunge at the great creature knocked him floundering into the tall grass, and with a loud, whirring sound disappeared in a distant wood.
Davy ran to the spot where the Cockalorum had fallen, and found him sitting helplessly in the grass, looking dreadfully rumpled, and staring about confusedly, as if wondering what had happened to him. As Davy came running up he murmured, in a reproachful way, “Oh! it’s you, is it? Well, then, I don’t want any more of it.”
“Upon my word I didn’t do it,” cried Davy, trying to keep from laughing. “It was the Cricket-Bat.”
“And what did he want?” murmured the Cockalorum, very sadly.
“Oh! he was only having a game of cricket with you,” said Davy, soothingly. “You were the ball, you know.”
The Cockalorum pondered over this for a moment, and then murmuring, “I prefer croquet,” floundered away through the waving grass. Davy, who for once felt sorry for the ridiculous old creature, was just setting off after him, when a voice cried, “Come on! Come on!” and Davy, looking across the meadow, saw the Goblin beckoning vigorously to him, apparently in great excitement.
“What’s the matter?” cried Davy, pushing his way through the thick grass.
“Oh, my! oh, my!” shrieked the Goblin, who was almost bursting with laughter. “Here’s that literary hack again!”
Davy peered through a clump of bushes, and discovered a large red animal, with white spots on its sides, clumsily rummaging about in the tall grass and weeds. Its appearance was so formidable that he was just about whispering to the Goblin, “Let’s run!” when the monster raised its head, and, after gazing about for an instant, gave a loud, triumphant whistle.
“Why, it’s Ribsy!” cried Davy, running forward. “It’s Ribsy, only he’s grown enormously fat.”
It was Ribsy, indeed, eating with all his might, and with his skin so stretched by his extreme fatness that the hair stood straight up all over it like a brush. The name on his side was twisted about beyond all hope of making it out, and his collar had quite disappeared in a deep crease about his neck. In fact, his whole appearance was so alarming that Davy anxiously inquired of him what he had been eating.
“Everything!” said Ribsy, enthusiastically,—“grass, nuts, bugs, birds, and berries! All of ’em taste good. I could eat both of you easily,” he added, glaring hungrily down upon Davy and the Goblin.
“Try that fellow first,” said the Goblin, pointing to a large, round insect that went flying by, humming like a top. Ribsy snapped at it, and swallowed it, and the next instant disappeared with a tremendous explosion in a great cloud of smoke.
“What was that?” said Davy, in a terrified whisper.
“A Hum Bug,” said the Goblin, calmly. “When a cab-horse on a vacation talks about eating you, a Hum Bug is a pretty good thing to take the conceit out of him. They’re loaded, you see, and they go booming along as innocently as you please; but if you touch ’em—why, ‘There you aren’t!’ as the Hole-keeper says.”
“The Hole-keeper isn’t himself any more,” said Davy, mournfully.
“Not altogether himself, but somewhat,” said a voice; and Davy, looking around, was astonished to find the Hole-keeper standing beside him. He was a most extraordinary-looking object, being nothing but Davy’s parcel marked, “Confexionry,” with arms and legs and a head to it. At the sight of him the Goblin fell flat on his back, and covered his face with his hands.
“I’m quite aware that my appearance is not prepossessing,” said the Hole-keeper, with a scornful look at the Goblin. “In fact, I’m nothing but a quarter of a pound of ‘plain,’ and the price isn’t worth mentioning.”
“But how did you ever come to be alive again, at all?” said Davy.
“Well,” said the Hole-keeper, “the truth of the matter is, that after you went away the Cockalorum fell to reading the Vacuum; and, if you’ll believe it, there wasn’t a word in it about my going back into the raw material.”
“I do believe that,” said Davy; but the Hole-keeper, without noticing the interruption, went on:—
“Then, of course, I got up and came away. Meanwhile the Cockalorum is gorging himself with information.
“I saw him just now,” said Davy, laughing, “and he didn’t act as if he had learned anything very lately. I don’t think he’ll find much in your book;” and here he went off into another fit of laughter.
“Ah! but just think of the lots and lots of things he won’t find,” exclaimed the Hole-keeper. “Everything he doesn’t find in it is something worth knowing. By the way, your friend seems to be having some sort of a fit. Give him some dubbygrums;” and with this the Hole-keeper stalked pompously away.
“The smell of sugar always gives me the craw-craws,” said the Goblin, in a stifled voice, rolling on the ground and keeping his hands over his face. “Get me some water.”
“I haven’t anything to get it in,” said Davy, helplessly.
“There’s a buttercup behind you,” groaned the Goblin, and Davy, turning, saw a buttercup growing on a stem almost as tall as he was himself. He picked it, and hurried away across the meadow to look for water, the buttercup, meanwhile, growing in his hand in a surprising manner, until it became a full-sized teacup, with a handle conveniently growing on one side. Davy, however, had become so accustomed to this sort of thing that he would not have been greatly surprised if a saucer had also made its appearance.
Presently he came upon a sparkling little spring, gently bubbling up in a marshy place, with high, sedgy grass growing about it, and being a very neat little boy he took off his shoes and stockings, and carefully picked his way over the oozy ground to the edge of the spring itself. He was just bending over to dip the cup into the spring, when the ground under his feet began trembling like jelly, and then, giving itself a convulsive shake, threw him head-foremost into the water.
For a moment Davy had a very curious sensation, as though his head and his arms and his legs were all trying to get inside of his jacket, and then he came sputtering to the top of the water and scrambled ashore. To his astonishment he saw that the spring had spread itself out into a little lake, and that the sedge-grass had grown to an enormous height, and was waving far above his head. Then he was startled by a tremendous roar of laughter, and, looking around, he saw the Goblin, who was now apparently at least twenty feet high, standing beside the spring.
“Oh, lor! Oh, lor!” cried the Goblin, in an uncontrollable fit of merriment. “Another minute and you wouldn’t have been bigger than a peanut!”
“What’s the matter with me?” said Davy, not knowing what to make of it all.
“Matter?” cried the Goblin. “Why, you’ve been and gone and fallen into an Elastic Spring, that’s all. If you’d got in at stretch tide, early in the morning, you’d have been a perfect giraffe; but you got in at shrink tide and—oh, my! oh, my!” and here he went off into another fit of laughter.
“I don’t think it’s anything to laugh at,” cried Davy, with the tears starting to his eyes, “and I’m sure I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Oh! don’t worry,” said the Goblin, good-naturedly. “I’ll take a dip myself, just to be companionable, and tomorrow morning we can get back to any size you like.”
“I wish you’d take these things in with you,” said Davy, pointing to his shoes and stockings. “They’re big enough now for Badorful.”
“All right!” cried the Goblin. “Here we go;” and, taking the shoes and stockings in his hand, he plunged into the spring, and a moment afterward scrambled out exactly Davy’s size.
“Now, that’s what I call a nice, tidy size,” said the Goblin, complacently, while Davy was squeezing his feet into his wet shoes. “What do you say to a ride on a field-mouse?”
“That will be glorious!” said Davy.
“Well, there goes the sun,” said the Goblin; “it will be moonlight presently, and moonlight is the time for mouse-back riding;” and as he spoke, the sun went down with a boom like a distant gun, and left them in the dark. The next moment the moon rose above the trees and beamed down pleasantly upon them, and the Goblin, taking Davy by the hand, led him into the wood. •••••••• “Freckles,” said the Goblin, “what time is it?”
They were now in the densest part of the wood, where the moon was shining brightly on a little pool with rushes growing about it, and the Goblin was speaking to a large Toad.
“Forty croaks,” said the Toad, in a husky whisper; and then, as a frog croaked in the pool, he added, “That makes it forty-one. The Snoopers have come in, and Thimbletoes is shaking in his boots.” And with these words the Toad coughed, and then hopped heavily away.
“What does he mean?” whispered Davy.
“He means that the fairies are here, and that means that we won’t get our ride,” said the Goblin, rather sulkily.
“And who is Thimbletoes?” said Davy.
“He’s the Prime Minister,” said the Goblin. “You see, if any one of the Snoopers finds out something the Queen didn’t know before, out goes the Prime Minister, and the Snooper pops into his boots. Thimbletoes doesn’t fancy that, you know, because the Prime Minister has all the honey he wants, by way of a salary. Now, here’s the mouse-stable, and don’t you speak a word—mind!”
As the Goblin said this they came upon a little thatched building, about the size of a baby-house, standing just beyond the pool; and the Goblin, cautiously pushing open the door, stole noiselessly in, with Davy following at his heels, trembling with excitement.
The little building was curiously lighted up by a vast number of fire-flies, hung from the ceiling by loops of cobweb; and Davy could see several spiders hurrying about among them and stirring them up when the light grew dim. The field-mice were stabled in little stalls on either side, each one with his tail neatly tied in a bow-knot to a ring at one side; and, at the farther end of the stable was a buzzing throng of fairies, with their shining clothes and gauzy wings sparkling beautifully in the soft light. Just beyond them Davy saw the Queen sitting on a raised throne, with a little mullen-stalk for a sceptre, and beside her was the Prime Minister, in a terrible state of agitation.
“Now, here’s this Bandybug,” the Prime Minister was saying. “What does he know about untying the knots in a cord of wood?”
“Nothing!” said the Queen, positively. “Absolutely nothing!”
“And then,” continued the Prime Minister, “the idea of his presuming to tell your Gossamer Majesty that he can hear the bark of the dogwood trees”—
“Bosh!” cried the Queen. “Paint him with raspberry jam, and put him to bed in a bee-hive. That’ll make him smart, at all events.”
Here the Prime Minister began dancing about in an ecstasy, until the Queen knocked him over with the mullen-stalk, and shouted, “Silence! and plenty of it, too. Bring in Berrylegs.”
Berrylegs, who proved to be a wiry little Fairy, with a silver coat and tight, cherry-colored trousers, was immediately brought in. His little wings fairly bristled with defiance, and his manner, as he stood before the Queen, was so impudent, that Davy felt morally certain there was going to be a scene.
“May it please your Transparent Highness,”—began Berrylegs.
“Skip all that!” interrupted the Queen, flourishing her mullen-stalk.
“Skip, yourself!” said Berrylegs, boldly, in reply. “Don’t you suppose I know how to talk to a Queen?”
The Queen turned very pale, and, after a hurried consultation with the Prime Minister, said faintly, “Have it your own way;” and Berrylegs began again.
“May it please your Transparent Highness, I’ve found out how the needles get into the haystacks.”
As Berrylegs said this a terrible commotion arose at once among the fairies. The Prime Minister cried out, “Oh, come, I say! That’s not fair, you know,” and the Queen became so agitated that she began taking great bites off the end of the mullen-stalk in a dazed sort of way; and Davy noticed that the Goblin, in his excitement, was trying to climb up on one of the mouse-stalls, so as to get a better view of what was going on. At last the Queen, whose mouth was now quite filled with bits of the mullen-stalk, mumbled, “Get to the point.”
“It ought to be a sharp one, being about needles,” said the Prime Minister, attempting a joke, with a feeble laugh, but no one paid the slightest attention to him; and Berrylegs, who was now positively swelling with importance, called out, in a loud voice, “It comes from using sewing-machines when they sow the hay-seed!”
The Prime Minister gave a shriek, and fell flat on his face, and the Queen began jumping frantically up and down, and beating about on all sides of her with the end of the mullen-stalk, when suddenly a large Cat walked into the stable, and the fairies fled in all directions. There was no mistaking the Cat, and Davy, forgetting entirely the Goblin’s caution, exclaimed, “Why! it’s Solomon!”
The next instant the lights disappeared, and Davy found himself in total darkness, with Solomon’s eyes shining at him like two balls of fire. There was a confused sound of sobs and cries and the squeaking of mice, among which could be heard the Goblin’s voice, crying, “Davy! Davy!” in a reproachful way; then the eyes disappeared, and a moment afterward the stable was lifted off the ground and violently shaken.
“That’s Solomon, trying to get at the mice,” thought Davy. “I wish the old thing had stayed away,” he added aloud, and as he said this the little stable was broken all to bits, and he found himself sitting on the ground in the forest.
The moon had disappeared, and snow was falling rapidly, and the sound of distant chimes reminded Davy that it must be past midnight, and that Christmas-day had come. Solomon’s eyes were shining in the darkness like a pair of coach-lamps, and, as Davy sat looking at them, a ruddy light began to glow between them, and presently the figure of the Goblin appeared, dressed in scarlet, as when he had first come. The reddish light was shining through his stomach again, as though the coals had been fanned into life once more, and as Davy gazed at him it grew brighter and stronger, and finally burst into a blaze. Then Solomon’s eyes gradually took the form of great brass balls, and presently the figure of the long-lost Colonel came into view just above them, affectionately hugging his clock. He was gazing mournfully down upon the poor Goblin, who was now blazing like a dry chip, and as the light of the fire grew brighter and stronger the trees about slowly took the shape of an old-fashioned fireplace with a high mantel-shelf above it, and then Davy found himself curled up in the big easy-chair, with his dear old grandmother bending over him, and saying gently, “Davy! Davy! Come and have some dinner, my dear!”
In fact, the Believing Voyage was ended.