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Updated: May 21, 2025
"A-and who might your worship be?" asked Bartlemy, with a cold shudder; for he felt desperately afraid that he had got hold of Old Boguey or Old Nick it was not much matter which. "That's none of your business," said the being; "but if you must know, I am Snippinbitz, the patron of the tailors." "O lord, your worship, you don't say so!" stammered Bartlemy. "That's a fact!" returned the goblin.
At last, as he paused under the old tree, he heard a familiar croaking laugh, and found himself unexpectedly in the presence of Snippinbitz, the friendly goblin. "Well, Bartlemy," croaked the being; "and how have you prospered with the Gold Stone?" "Marvellously well, your worship!" replied Bartlemy, in a joyous tone.
The goblin burst into a discordant laugh on hearing this; then, suddenly becoming serious, he said: "Well, that's a sensible request, Bartlemy, and a modest one, considering the circumstances. Never mind, I have taken a fancy to you; your wish shall be accomplished. See here." With these words Snippinbitz put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a magnificent jewel, as it seemed to Bartlemy.
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