“I’m laughing to think what a mess the miners will find themselves in—somewhere before this day ten years.”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Oh, yes, you do mean something. You always do mean something.”
“It’s more than you do, then, wife.”
“That may be; but it’s not more than I find out, you know.”
“Ha! ha! You’re a sharp one. What a mother you’ve got, Helfer!”
“Yes, father.”
“Well, I suppose I must tell you. They’re all at the palace consulting about it tonight; and as soon as we’ve got away from this thin place I’m going there to hear what night they fix upon. I should like to see that young ruffian there on the other side, struggling in the agonies of—”
He dropped his voice so low that Curdie could hear only a growl. The growl went on in the low bass for a good while, as inarticulate as if the goblin’s tongue had been a sausage; and it was not until his wife spoke again that it rose to its former pitch.
“But what shall we do when you are at the palace?” she asked.
“I will see you safe in the new house I’ve been digging for you for the last two months. Podge, you mind the table and chairs. I commit them to your care. The table has seven legs—each chair three. I shall require them all at your hands.”
After this arose a confused conversation about the various household goods and their transport; and Curdie heard nothing more that was of any importance.