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“Don’t be afraid, little goblin,” said I, “it is
only me. Don’t run away, and I will show you
what is inside that gold box you were so
interested in. It can ring a bell as they do in church
on Sundays.”
He stopped short and looked at me with his
small, kind eyes.
“I cannot make it out,” said the goblin, “I
thought I smelt a child in this room or I would
never have come in, and you look like a big man.
Well, I never . . .” he exclaimed hoisting
himself up on the chair by the bed. “Well, I never
heard of such good luck as to find you here in this
far-away place. You are just the same child as
when I saw you last time in the nursery of your
old home or you could never have seen me
to-night sitting on the table. Don’t you recognize
me? It was I who came to your nursery every
night when the whole house was asleep to put
things straight for you and smooth away all
your worries of the day. It was to me you always
brought a slice of your birthday cake and all those
walnuts, raisins and sweets from the Christmas
tree and you never forgot to bring me my bowl of
porridge. Why did you ever leave your old home
in the midst of the big forest? You were always
smiling then, why do you look so sad now?”
“Because I have no rest in my head, I cannot
stay anywhere, I cannot forget, I cannot sleep.”
“That is like your father. How often have I
not watched him wandering up and down in his
room the whole night!”
“Tell me something about my father, I
remember so little of him.”
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