“He’s—he’s a friend of mine!” said Peggy bravely. She suddenly felt very sorry for the Giant, for though he was so extremely big he seemed somehow now just like a helpless baby. “He’s come to tea, Nannie, because it’s my birfday.” (Peggy still talked baby language when she got excited.)[10] “And he’s brought a lovely bit of cake like you said people had before the War,” she went on, pressing the ring tightly, and wondering when Nurse would speak. But the unfortunate woman continued to sit on the floor, glaring wildly at the Giant, and opening and shutting her mouth without a sound coming out of it. “Oh dear, I wish something would happen,” at last came from Peggy desperately.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she felt the Giant tuck her under his arm and walk straight out of the window with her!
They went right over the garden and fields, the Giant striding along through the air with the greatest ease, and at such a pace that often the birds they met had no time to fly out of their way, and flew full tilt against them.
“Phew! that was a narrow shave!” said the Giant, stepping down at last into the middle of a great wood. He put Peggy down on some soft green moss, and leant against an oak tree, panting. “And after all, we left the tea and cake behind!” he added.
Peggy looked up at him. His head was right up above the branches, but she could see his long brown beard among the twigs.
“You squashed them both with your foot,” she said plaintively. “And I don’t understand anyfing! Why did you come at all? Though I like you very much,” she continued quickly. And indeed she had, from the very first moment. For he had such a kind face—though it was not what you would call a clever one exactly—and he was so different from every one else, and looked as though he would play games nicely.
“I came because you wished,” said the Giant. “That’s a Fairy Ring, that is. But it’s not once in a hundred years[11] any children find it—or, when they do, think of putting it on their thumb and wishing. By the way, where was it this time?”
“In a cracker,” said Peggy.
“Ah, I know those crackers,” said the Giant. “One Fairy one to ten million common ones is the average. Let me congratulate you! You’ll be allowed six visits from me, and six wishes each time, before the Ring disappears again. Very liberal, I call it.”
“Do you mean you can let me have everything I wish for, like what happens in the Fairy stories?” asked Peggy in a state of great excitement, and she began to jump about in a very un-grown-up way. “Oh, I wish—I wish this tree was made of chocolate!” she screamed. (You must remember she was rather over-excited, as it was her birthday.)
The Giant immediately handed her down a chocolate cream from one of the boughs; and Peggy noticed a bright shade of brown creeping all over the trunk and branches.
“Wish number three gone,” said the Giant with a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, that wasn’t difficult. But I’m sorry to tell you I’ve grown rusty, very rusty indeed! It’s so many years since I’ve had anything of this sort to do, that I’ve forgotten how to manage the simplest things.” He sighed deeply till the branches clashed together over Peggy’s head. “I can see by your eye,” he went on gloomily, “that there’s something not quite up to date enough about your dress. And you must have noticed in the nursery that I’d quite forgotten how to disappear quickly. I shall lose my nerve at this rate, I know I shall!” and a large tear dropped at Peggy’s feet.
“Oh, no, you won’t!” said Peggy, putting her arms as far round one of his ankles as they would go, and hugging it. (The chocolate cream had been delicious, and she was in very[12] good spirits.) “I’d have hated you to disappear without me just now! Nannie would have been angry anyhow at my dress—and you managed beautifully after! But you shall practise disappearing now if you want to. We’ve lots of time, haven’t we? Go on. Try.”
So the Giant tried and tried—and then he rested—and then he tried and tried again, but it wasn’t the slightest good; he remained just as big and brown and there as ever. At last, with a stupendous effort, he almost succeeded, though he still showed a bit where the sun shone down against the trunk, whilst one of his huge boots remained quite visible, standing forlornly on the grass beside Peggy.
“It’s no good,” he remarked, reappearing again with startling suddenness. “There, I’m back again, you see, and I didn’t mean to be. Do use one of your wishes on it! Perhaps if I’d only disappeared once in the proper way, I should get into the hang of it all again. You’d better turn the Ring besides wishing, to make it more certain.”
Peggy did so, giving the Ring an extra turn in her zeal, and the Giant rolled completely up, and disappeared in a twinkling, to her great satisfaction. “That was splendid!” she cried. “You see it was quite easy! Now come back and do it again by yourself”—but the Giant didn’t answer at all.
A little cold wind blew right through the wood and rustled all the chocolate oak leaves above Peggy’s head, and a squirrel up in the branches threw a chocolate cream down on her, and then another, and they both squashed on her striped silk dress. Peggy was not easily frightened, but it all felt very lonely and queer, particularly as she didn’t know in the least where she was. She jumped to her feet and began running about the wood, shouting for the Giant as loudly as she could.
[13]It was only when she had been doing this for quite a long time, and getting no answer at all, that she remembered that she had not wished or turned the Ring. She at once did both, and, “Don’t tread on me for goodness’ sake!” said a squeaky voice near her foot.
Peggy looked down, and there amongst the leaves stood a tiny little figure reaching no higher than her instep. It was only when she had picked him up and peered closely into his face that she recognised the features of the Giant, distorted with rage.
“Oh dear,” she cried, “what has happened?”
“You should learn to manage your Ring better, before you treat me like this!” said the tiny Giant in an exceedingly cross voice. “Put me on a blade of grass at once, please,—thank you. I don’t like being held round the middle like that. Why did you turn the Ring more than once? I’ve never disappeared so uncomfortably fast before. And now look at the size I am! This is all I can manage after such a shock!”
“Well, it’s not my fault,” said Peggy with some spirit. “You ought to know the Ring better than I do. I only did what you told me!”
“I have got a broad outline of how the thing should be run,” said the Giant. “But I can’t fill in the details. You will have to learn by experience, I suppose.”
“What grand words you use,” said Peggy respectfully, but the Giant didn’t look mollified at all.
“Now we’ve used up the five wishes (not counting the failure) so you’d better wish yourself back in the nursery,” he said. “I don’t see that you’ve had much fun, and I know I haven’t. Goodness knows how I shall get back to my house!”
“Oh, but I want to do lots more,” said Peggy. “I[14] haven’t played at being grown up at all yet, and I haven’t had any more chocolates!”
“Never mind, there’s no time left—wish yourself home,” said the Giant. “Quick, now!”
He sounded so like Nurse at her crossest that Peggy hurriedly obeyed,—and the next instant she found herself standing alone in the nursery in her petticoat, and in the act of putting her ring into the toy cupboard.
“You must be cold!” said Nurse, coming in. “I thought I’d never find your old frock, and leaning over the drawer made me feel quite faint-like! There! now have a nice game with your dolls,” and she bustled over to draw the curtain.
“All the same I wish he hadn’t seemed so cross,” said Peggy to her Golliwog. “The only really nice part was the chocolate cream.”
“What are you grumbling about?” asked Nurse. “A chocolate cream, indeed, at this time of night! I think, if you ask me, that it’s time all little girls were in bed!” (She was that sort of Nurse.)
“All right,” said Peggy, jumping up at once. She even began to unbutton her frock and pull off her hair ribbon to Nurse’s great surprise; who, of course, couldn’t know that all Peggy wanted was for the next day to come quickly, so that she could see the Giant again.
“We’ll really find out the right way to manage the wishing to-morrow,” she thought as she cuddled down into bed. “It isn’t the dear old Giant’s fault if he’s forgotten things a little bit. It was really very clever of him to think of that dress at all! It’s the sort great-great-grandmother is wearing in the picture in the hall. Perhaps she was one of the little girls he played with. Fancy him remembering all that time ago, clever old thing!” She turned her head[15] and stared up at the ceiling, all golden with the firelight, and crossed with black crinkly bars from the reflection of the guard. “All the same I wish he hadn’t looked so cross,” she murmured, as she fell asleep.