DISAPPEARING
“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.) “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 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 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.
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 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 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.