'I'm Peter's son.'

'Who's Peter?'

'Peter the miner.'

'I don't know him.'
'I'm his son, though.'

'And why should the goblins mind you, pray?'

'Because I don't mind them. I'm used to them.'

'What difference does that make?'

'If you're not afraid of them, they're afraid of you. I'm not
afraid of them. That's all. But it's all that's wanted - up here,
that is. It's a different thing down there. They won't always
mind that song even, down there. And if anyone sings it, they
stand grinning at him awfully; and if he gets frightened, and
misses a word, or says a wrong one, they - oh! don't they give it
him!'
'What do they do to him?' asked Irene, with a trembling voice.

'Don't go frightening the princess,' said the nurse.

'The princess!' repeated the little miner, taking off his curious
cap. 'I beg your pardon; but you oughtn't to be out so late.
Everybody knows that's against the law.'