Father said, “Okay, but it sounds as if you’ll miss out on quite an adventure with us.”
“Don’t worry,” Elliot said. “I’m sure I’ll have an adventure of my own.” As soon as his family left, Elliot sat down with Mr. Willimaker in the woods. “How many Brownies can come here?”
Mr. Willimaker sighed. “I can’t get them to come. What Fudd told you before was true. I am a joke in Burrowsville. The last time I tried to warn everyone of danger, it turned out to be nothing but a little mouse. They won’t listen to me this time.”
Elliot leaned in to Mr. Willimaker. “You have to make them listen. Maybe you were a joke before, but now you have a message straight from the king. I know you can do this.”
Mr. Willimaker smiled. “You’re right. I can do it. I will do it.” He began counting on his fingers. “A few will need to stay behind and l
ook after the young ones. I suppose we might close the shops early and that will spare some more.” He looked up at Elliot. “Would a couple hundred Brownies be enough?”
Elliot smiled. “Yes, but I need them right away. We have a lot to do before dark. Tell everyone to wear work clothes.”
Mr. Willimaker straightened his back, making him at least a half-inch taller, which is a lot for a Brownie. He stuck out his chest and said, “Work clothes are a Brownies’ only clothes. Even if I lose my voice, I won’t stop talking until they agree to come.”
“I also need to meet with my royal advisors,” Elliot said, then added, “Do I have any royal advisors?”
“Just Fudd Fartwick, I suppose,” Mr. Willimaker said. “He was Queen Bipsy’s closest advisor.”
“I want to speak with him, then,” Elliot said. “And you as well. You have been my closest advisor.”
Mr. Willimaker bowed very low and then poofed himself gone. While he waited, Elliot sat down on the ground to think about his plan. He hadn’t done so much thinking since learning double-digit multiplication. This thinking was so much work that Elliot didn’t hear the footsteps creep up behind him.
A hand grabbed Elliot’s shoulder. He heard Tubs Lawless snarling at him in his usual mean voice, “Okay, Penster, now you’re gonna get what’s coming to you!”
When Tubs Lawless tells a kid he’s going to get what’s coming to him, that’s usually a sign that the kid will need several bandages. But Elliot’s bandages were somewhere in the blown-up house, so all he could do was turn around slowly and hope he didn’t end up wishing he had been in the blown-up house.
Tubs stretched out his hands toward Elliot, but in them was something Elliot hadn’t expected. A lemon pie.
“My mom said that we have to bring this to you, since your house blew up,” Tubs said. “I hope you’re happy. This was supposed to be my dessert tonight.”
“Er, thanks.” Elliot kept waiting for Tubs to do whatever he’d really come to do, like push the pie in Elliot’s face and laugh, or run away when Elliot reached for it.
“Do you want the pie or not?” Tubs asked.
Elliot shrugged and took it. “Smells good.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been able to smell anything since I was five years old and shoved a bunch of chocolate candies up my nose.”
Maybe the candies had worked their way up to Tubs’s brain. It would explain a lot. But Elliot only said, “Well, tell your mom thanks.”
Tubs began walking away but then turned back and said, “You know, since you just took my family’s dessert, I should probably take something from you too.”
Elliot waved his hand toward the pile of his blown-up house. “Take whatever you want.” It didn’t matter to him.
Tubs kicked around a few wooden boards and then pointed to a trunk. It wasn’t just any trunk. This one had been in Elliot’s room until the other night when it started making noises again. Elliot had dragged it into the hallway so he could sleep. The trunk was dented from the explosion and one of the handles had come off, but it was still in one piece. “I’m going to take that.”
It had been making noise because it still had three Goblins in it. “Not that trunk,” Elliot said, jumping up. “I meant you could take anything else.”
Tubs held up a fist. Elliot had seen that fist up close plenty of times and stopped in place.
“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t take of yours,” Tubs said. “Enjoy my mom’s pie—or else!” With that, he picked up the trunk and dragged it behind him, huffing and puffing.
Elliot started to go after him but was stopped by Mr. Willimaker returning with Fudd Fartwick.
“Will the Goblins hurt Tubs?” Elliot asked.
Mr. Willimaker stared after Tubs. “Hard to say. They’ll either be so happy to get out of the trunk that they’ll barely hurt him at all. Or they’ll be so mad about having been locked in the trunk that they’ll chew his arms off.” Mr. Willimaker shrugged. “He’ll probably be fine.”