ng into it, it vanished from the eyes of
Tricksey-Wee, buried in the folds of a white stocking like a cloud in
the sky, which Mrs. Giant was busy darning. For it was Saturday night,
and her husband would wear nothing but white stockings on Sunday. To be
sure he did eat little children, but only _very_ little ones; and if
ever it crossed his mind that it was wrong to do so, he always said to
himself that he wore whiter stockings on Sunday than any other giant in
all Giantland.

At the same instant Tricksey-Wee heard a sound like the wind in a tree
full of leaves, and could not think what it could be; till, looking up,
she found that it was the giantess whispering to her; and when she
tried very hard she could hear what she said well enough.

"Run away, dear little girl," she said, "as fast as you can; for my
husband will be home in a few minutes."

"But I've never been naughty to your husband," said Tricksey-Wee,
looking up in the giantess's face.

"That doesn't matter. You had better go. He is fond of little children,
particularly little girls."

"Oh, then he won't hurt me."

"I am not sure of that. He is so fond of them that he eats them up; and
I am afraid he couldn't help hurting you a little. He's a very good man
though."

"Oh! then--" began Tricksey-Wee, feeling rather frightened; but before
she could finish her sentence she heard the sound of footsteps very far
apart and very heavy. The next moment, who should come running towards
her, full speed, and as pale as death, but Buffy-Bob. She held out her
arms, and he ran into them. But when she tried to kiss him, she only
kissed the back of his head; for his white face and round eyes were
turned to the door.

"Run, children; run and hide!" said the giantess.

"Come, Buffy," said Tricksey; "yonder's a great brake; we'll hide in
it."

The brake was a big broom; and they had just got into the bristles of
it when they heard the door open with a sound of thunder, and in
stalked the giant. You would have thought you saw the whole earth
through the door when he opened it, so wide was it; and when he closed
it, it was like nightfall.

"Where is that little boy?" he cried, with a voice like the bellowing
of a cannon. "He looked a very nice boy indeed. I am almost sure he
crept through the mousehole at the bottom of the door. Where is he, my
dear?"

"I don't know," answered the giantess.

"But you know it is wicked to tell lies; don't you, my dear?" retorted