tened himself up and looked for his
patron.

He could not see him, but he did perceive two balls of fire close to
him--the red eyes were still upon him.

Nick was thankful even for this, as any companionship at that moment
was better than none. The silence was at length broken by the Goblin
remarking, "You must have passed a fearful ordeal during the last few
moments."

"Has the time been so short?" inquired Nick; "it seemed almost an age
to me. This is not the first occasion, however, that I have passed
through it, and I fear the time may come when nature will break down,
and then I shall either do myself an injury or harm some one else--I
know it."

"I hope not," said the wizard. "Good-bye, I must go."

"Do not leave," implored the half-frightened Baba, "but remain with me
until I have quite finished my work. I believe I am growing to be a
coward, for I dare not be alone to-night. You are such an odd-looking
manikin," continued Nick, "and have spoken so fearlessly to me, that I
am beginning to like you. Do stay."

"Well," consented the Goblin, "I will remain as long as you wish; my
time is of no value; beside, if I can persuade you to reform and be a
sober man, it will be worth an eternity of waiting."

Nick said, "Thank you, I will try," and went on with his work.

Neither spoke for some time, when Baba suddenly exclaimed, "There,
they are finished at last, and are as good a pair of shoes as man ever
trod in. I suppose now that I may occupy this den for a while longer."

"Baba, my good man," solicited Nick's friend, "as we are about to
part, will you give me your promise never to drink rum again? You will
then be happy, I am sure."

Hesitatingly the cobbler agreed that he would not taste the accursed
stuff again; but made it a condition that his new-found friend should
accompany him as far as where he lived in such wretchedness.

"I have no objection," replied the Goblin, "if you will not walk too
fast, for I cannot keep pace with you."

"Why, I will carry you," said the grateful Nick, and seizing the
little conjuror in his arms, walked off with him easily.

When they had proceeded about half the length of the street, at the
other end of which Nick lived, they came to the village dram-shop.
Forgetting all that had passed, the willing shoemaker stopped and
listened. He could hear the clinking sound of glasses ringing on the
night air, mingled with the maudlin shouts and songs of his boon
companions. T