The school had begun to take in new students to replace the ones who had disappeared. Mrs Weaver searched the garden regularly, but had been unable to find any other goblins. She wondered if the two that she had caught had been outliers, who had strayed far from their home, wherever that was. One day another of Mrs Weaver’s students, named Hirum, was kicking his football on the lawn, when he accidentally kicked it into the garden where Stanley used to spend his lunch hours in seclusion.
This particular lunch hour had only been going for five minutes. Hirum crawled into the garden and found his football. Then he noticed some food wrapping and unwrapped it. Pleased to have discovered some cake, he ate it and then suddenly found himself shrinking.
He had no idea how it had been possible, but it had. He was now the most minute boy in the school. He wandered through the garden until he heard footsteps on the grass and a familiar voice:
“If you goblins are hiding in there, I’m still going to find you and eat you.”
It was Mrs Weaver!
“She thinks there are goblins in here,” he thought, “Maybe they left this shrinking cake behind. Maybe it’s what keeps them small, but now it’s made me small too. I’d better hide.”
He did his best to stay concealed, but he had to stay on the move, to avoid Mrs Weaver’s continued searching tactics. Before long, she discovered him, and stepped in to cut off his escape. She reached down and grabbed him.
“I’ve had one of you for lunch and one for dinner. I think you’ll make an excellent afternoon tea.”
“But Mrs Weaver, it’s me, Hirum. I ate some cake and shrank,” he said.
Mrs Weaver took a close look at him.
“Then why did you hide from me for so long, Hirum?”
“I don’t know,” he stammered.
“I think you do know, Hirum. I think you ran and hid, because you knew very well that I would enjoy eating a tiny student just as much as I enjoyed eating the goblins.”
Hirum realised that she was right. She had been his teacher for months, but would now treat him as her captive to be eaten.
“Is this what happened to all the naughty boys?” he asked.
“In a way,” said Mrs Weaver.
“But I’ve always been good,” said Hirum.
“And again I point out that you only ran and hid because you knew that it wouldn’t make any difference to me,” said Mrs Weaver.
“It’s true,” said Hirum, “Will you be gentle with me, when I’m in your nice looking mouth?”
“I always am, but your days in my class are over. You’re a mouthful of meat now, Hirum. I’ll put you in my desk during afternoon classes, and then you’ll have to be my afternoon tea.”
“Alright,” said Hirum, unable to prevent it.
He waited the afternoon in her desk and then saw the light coming in again and Mrs Weaver’s towering face.
“It’s afternoon tea time, Hirum,” she said, lifted him out of the desk and tilted her head back and held him over her gaping maw.
“Oh Mrs Weaver, it looks so pretty and so dangerous in there,” he said.
“I’m really not concerned. Goodbye Hirum,” said Mrs Weaver mercilessly and lowered him into her mouth and swallowed him.
As she was riding her cart home, she began recalling the events of that lunch hour, and began to wonder about the day that Stanley had disappeared. She had found and eaten a polite goblin that day. The more she thought of it, the more she realised that there had been something familiar about that goblin boy. She wondered if Stanley had also eaten the cake, and whether or not she had eaten Stanley.